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I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.

Sara Gruen

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Sara Gruen
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Vancouver
British Columbia
Policy
Hate
Exclusion
Writing
Protective
Effectively
Bizarre
Writes
Page
Pages

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The only thing that makes me crazier than writing is not writing.
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I'm truly grateful for my microwave, which allows me to easily clarify butter, steam vegetables, and - when I am really lazy - feed my three kids in less than five minutes.
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How is it that everyone on this train has so much alcohol? We always head to Canada at the beginning of the season, she says taking her seat again. Their laws are much more civilized. Cheers.
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Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
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You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.
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Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of.
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When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.
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They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.
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I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.
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I am further back, surrounded on all sides by wailing men, their faces shiny with tears. Uncle Al promised three dollars and a bottle of Canadian whiskey to the man who puts on the best show. You've never seen such grief-- even the dogs were howling.
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Jacob: I've never seen so much manure. Wade: Baggage stock horses. They pack'em in 27 a car. Jacob: how do you stand the smell? Wade: what smell?
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Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
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Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
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He stares at me, and then leans back in his chair. He's ill, Jacob. I say nothing. He's a paragon schnitzophonic. He's what?! Paragon schnitzophonic, repeats Uncle Al. You mean paranoid schizophrenic? Sure. Whatever. But the bottom line is he's mad as a hatter.
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I roll onto my side and stare out the venetian blinds at the blue sky beyond. After a few minutes I'm lulled into a sort of peace. The sky, the sky--same as it always was.
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Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.
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Gorillas are in danger of being wiped out by the Ebola virus. I feel like we have limited time to get to know them and understand them and they're going to disappear - that's terrifically sad. Wouldn't it be great if we could stop that?
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I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
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But it all zipped by. One minute Marlena and I were up to our eyeballs, and the next thing we knew the kids were borrowing the car and fleeing the coop for college. And now, here I am. In my nineties and alone.
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Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.
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