I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple. Janet Fitch More Quotes by Janet Fitch More Quotes From Janet Fitch Who can judge another man's suffering? Janet Fitch judging suffering men The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me. Janet Fitch happy-birthday cake party She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad. Janet Fitch laughed sad One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright. Janet Fitch pain bears The writer is both a sadist and a masochist. We create people we love, and then we torture them. The more we love them, and the more cleverly we torture them along the lines of their greatest vulnerability and fear, the better the story. Sometimes we try to protect them from getting booboos that are too big. Don’t. This is your protagonist, not your kid. Janet Fitch trying kids people she’s not as pretty as you,” I said “But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered. Janet Fitch girl mother said What was beauty unless you intended to use it, like a hammer, or a key? It was just something for other people to use and admire, or envy, despise. To nail their dreams onto like a picture hanger on a blank wall. And so many girls saying, use me, dream me. Janet Fitch girl dream beauty I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners? Janet Fitch chains ashamed mother Only peons made excusses for themselves she taught me. Never apologize, never explain. Janet Fitch apologizing taught made You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem. Janet Fitch eye beautiful love A womans mistakes are different from a girls Janet Fitch girl different mistake It's not that he was going nowhere, it's that he'd already arrived. Janet Fitch without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life. Janet Fitch scar faces past I think that Oprah's on a mission to improve the lives of the average American in various ways. And one of them is to bring literature to people who would normally not be quite as demanding in their reading tastes, to show them writing that can be more than just entertainment. Janet Fitch reading writing thinking What is a scene? a) A scene starts and ends in one place at one time (the Aristotelian unities of time and place-this stuff goes waaaayyyy back). b) A scene starts in one place emotionally and ends in another place emotionally. Starts angry, ends embarrassed. Starts lovestruck, ends disgusted. c) Something happens in a scene, whereby the character cannot go back to the way things were before. Make sure to finish a scene before you go on to the next. Make something happen. Janet Fitch unity goes-on character I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me. Janet Fitch fishes swimming want I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children between friends family things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost more easily than anyone could imagine. Janet Fitch mother children thinking She’s never where she is,' I said. 'She’s only inside her head. Janet Fitch detachment numbness emptiness She was a beautiful woman dragging a crippled foot and I was that foot. I was bricks sewn into the hem of her clothes, I was a steel dress Janet Fitch clothes feet beautiful We have no home, she told me. I am your home. Janet Fitch home
