The ego being shattered is not what frightens me - that can be useful for writing - but the ego being inflated is sort of like it dying of gout.

At 14 and 15, I was sort of my town's resident beatnik.

I'm not confident in my own ability to resist the titanic force of my own ego.

A funny thing happened post-diagnosis. They put him on drugs, things went up and down, but he lived. He lived. It was like a waiting room where they kept not calling your name.

When I get online, there's this cycle of anxiety and narcissism that takes over, which is the part of me that I like the least.

I think several generations of my family had novels in the drawer. You know the montage in 'The Royal Tenenbaums' where each character has produced some sort of minor work? It was like having a magician in the household.