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Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

MaryJanice Davidson

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MaryJanice Davidson
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Communion
Burn
Holy
Water
Death
Pelt
Crucifix
Poke

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I could have gone to medical school, I said. Except for all the math and stuff.
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It never failed—I'd buy a new journal, write like a madwoman for ten pages, then lose total interest in the process. Three months later, I'd start the whole process all over again. I think I just liked buying new notebooks.
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She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.
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There's more than one way for a girl to Google a cat.
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Take your hands off her, Sinclair told the guy behind me, Or they'll write books about what I'll do to you.
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Wow, girlfriend, you're incompatible with life! And here I thought I was just incompatible with pink.
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I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.
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Did vampirism encourage Stockholm syndrome?
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I've got a folder full of rejection slips that I keep. Know why? Because those same editors are now calling my agent hoping I'll write a book or novella for them. Things change. A rejection slip today might mean a frantic call to your agent in six months.
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It's nice to see you again, Laura. Thank you, Mrs. T- No, no, no. Please, my name is- Mud, I suggested. Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short. ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy
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The vampire bible, bound in human skin, written in blood, and full of prophecies that were never wrong. Trouble was, if you read the thing too long, it drove you nuts. Not I'm having a bad day and feel bitchy nuts or PMS nuts. I think I'll commit felony assault on my friends and rape my boyfriend nuts.
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You have attained maturity display it for us, if you please.
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They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.
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I've always assumed he'd be around to be, you know, yelled at and taken for granted. And of course I was wrong. Nobody's going to put up with that forever.
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All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck.
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You don't scare me, Cadence Jones. I've lived with crazy, I've ridden with crazy, I've vacationed with crazy, I've visited crazy in various hospitals, I've sat in on therapy sessions with crazy. Frankly, I think women who don't have major emotional disorders are really very dull.
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We have souls. Sure we do. Otherwise we'd do bad things all the time. You know, like politicians.
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Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as— Put that thing down, I said impatiently. I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a damned maraca.
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