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Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.

Aimee Bender

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Aimee Bender
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: June 28
Novelist
Writer
the United States of America
Lighter
Meadows
Lovely
Large
Write
Feelings
Writing
Picnics
Make
Lighters

More quotes by Aimee Bender

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I peeled the skin off a grape in slippery little triangles, and I understood then that I would be undressing every item of food I could because my clothes would be staying on.
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Light is good company, when alone I took my comfort where I found it, and the warmest yellow bulb in the living-room lamp had become a kind of radiant babysitter all its own.
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I am the drying meadow you the unspoken apology he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son she is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.
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and I get refill number three or four and the wine is making my bones loose and it's giving my hair a red sheen and my breasts are blooming and my eyes feel sultry and wise and the dress is water.
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I was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
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Mom flipped through the magazines like the pages needed to be slapped.
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I don't think so, I don't agree. The most unbearable thing I think by far, she said, is hope.
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We hit the sidewalk, and dropped hands. How I wished, right then, that the whole world was a street.
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Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn't love me - I felt the wash of her love every day, pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter Joseph was her it.
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Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn't appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
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While she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave, the most so far, because she found the saddest thing of all to be the simple truth of her capacity to move on.
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You try, you seem totally nuts, you go underground.
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My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen. — Aimee Bender (Willful Creatures: Stories)
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As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
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It is all about numbers. It is all about sequence. It's the mathematical logic of being alive. If everything kept to its normal progression, we would live with the sadness-cry and then walk-but what really breaks us cleanest are the losses that happen out of order.
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The writing I tend to think of as 'good' is good because it's mysterious.
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I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.
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It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
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Not getting bored of my own story and/or character is one of the main struggles I have had with novel writing, and I have put to bed big chunks of work that just didn't sustain my interest.
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You can ruin anything if you focus at it.
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