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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
Effectively
Bizarre
Writes
Page
Pages
Policy
Hate
Exclusion
Writing
Protective

More quotes by Sara Gruen

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I look after those who look after me. He smacks his lips, stares at me, and adds, I also look after those who don't. - Sara Gruen (Water for Elephants)
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Although, pretending not to notice is almost worse than noticing.
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I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.
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You do right by me, I'll show you a life most suckers can't even dream of.
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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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I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.
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Being the survivor stinks.
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...if you expect people to try to do things your way, you're going to have to give some hints as to what that way is.
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I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.
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Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.
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Although there are times I'd give anything to have her back, I'm glad she went first. Losing her was like being cleft down the middle. It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to go through that.
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I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
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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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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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I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
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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 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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It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here
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Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?
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I have to convince myself that this is not a pointless life, even the body is telling me so.
Sara Gruen