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It was the hat. He looked sweet in the hat. How could a man in a fuzzy blue hat have used human bones to pave his roads?
Jennifer Egan
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Jennifer Egan
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 7
Novelist
Writer
Chicago
Illinois
Looked
Sweet
Used
Pave
Human
Fuzzy
Humans
Roads
Men
Hats
Bones
Blue
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th blu nyt th stRs u can't c th hum tht nevr gOs awy
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This is the music business. 'Five years is five hundred years' - your words.
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No one is waiting for me. In this story, I'm the girl no one is waiting for.
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The world is full of shitheads, Rhea. Don’t listen to them—listen to me. And I know that Lou is one of those shitheads. But I listen.
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The bottom line is that I like my first drafts to be blind, unconscious, messy efforts that's what gets me the best material.
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I had this idea that I could hire myself out as a person to go on archeological digs and dig, without any training! I actually wrote to a number of archeology departments and offered up my services.
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I’m like America ” he said. Stephanie swung around to look at him unnerved. “What are you talking about ” she said. “Are you off your meds ” “Our hands are dirty ” Jules said.
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We lie. That's what we do. You're selling me a line of bullshit and you want me to sell you a line of bullshit back so you can write a major line of bullshit and be paid for it.
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If you don't have people that the reader cares about and stories that are gripping, you've got nothing.
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We're [writers] all afraid of writing badly, and there are psychological reasons, like the bad interior of ourselves is somehow being revealed, but we all fear that, and you can't write well if you're not willing to write badly. That's why you have to make writing a habit, so it feels normal and not strange.
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Everyone we've lost, we'll find. Or they'll find us.
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I don't really know where my ideas come from. I start with a time and a place. That's what I need to get started, and an intellectual question.
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Sure, everything is ending, Jules said, but not yet.
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I am at my worst trying to write about things that overlap with my life.
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There's something very strange about associating me with that prize. I had hoped for it in a more directed way as a journalist. Somehow as a journalist you know there are Pulitzers out there and you can work hard and get one. To win it for Fiction seems unbelievable.
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Stu walked Bennie over to Chris in the chair and parted his hair to reveal some tan little creatures the size of poppy seeds moving around on his scalp. Bennie felt himself grow faint.'Lice' the barber whispered.'They get it at school'. 'But he goes to private school' Bernie had blurted.'In Crandale,New York!
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Americans are less selfish than some of our politicians believe and will respond with reason and resilience to passionate clarity.
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Rich children are always blond, Jocelyn goes. It has to do with vitamins.
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It's finished. Everything went past, without me.
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I don’t want to fade away, I want to flame away - I want my death to be an attraction, a spectacle, a mystery. A work of art.
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