Guy In Your MFA

It's not our fault that every memoir written by a man is introspective and interesting and every memoir written by a woman is an attention-seeking beach readhttps://twitter.com/DanaSchwartzzz/status/1002654255822454784 …

The narrator of this short story is actually the concept of Time itself

Considering getting my doctorate in 18th century literature from Oxford. I don't know. Maybe I'll just wait until I'm the author of an acclaimed novel and they invite me to guest-lecture

terrible, shameless self-promotion. real artists promote their work the way I do: by leaving copies of my unpublished manuscript at coffee shop tables for strangers to findhttps://twitter.com/DanaSchwartzzz/status/1001104635380154369 …

Sean Penn is a hack. I had the idea of writing an experimental novel about a white man who wants to do violence and fantasizes about having sex YEARS ago.

"Her tongue was silver and perfume. Her hair—long, fiery red—twisted itself around my fantasies. She was herself, and no one else."

Glad to see Sean Penn took my advice to turn his talents to the literary world.

(I admit, my charitable intentions became intertwined with thoughts of her legs extended on my mattress on the floor, her Red Vine-colored lips and the moans that might escape them. Too soon, too soon. Text her, make sure she isn't one of those snobby college girls first.)

No, this was a girl who was unpretentious. Smart, hopefully but still—working in a movie theater. No genius. There is so much left for her to learn. I can help her, guide her.

The concession stand girl—for she was, truly, only a girl—had the bored, languorous posture of someone who wished someone would come and talk to them. She was pretty but not intimidatingly so, not the type of girl who'd spend hours on makeup or hairspray-tight curls.

If only someone had written Cat Person from Robert's perspective. Sigh, the mantle must fall to me, yet again

"Cat Person" was a middling work of dull autobiography (presumably). I expected better from The New Yorker than something so appealing to the masses

Los Angeles. Always 75 and sunny. Like the whole city is a soundstage. Artificially perfect, like everything here.

we all know time only runs in one direction. But what if.... it didn't

story idea: a man visits a prostitute. a week later, she dies and it's very hard for the man to deal with