"Writers want recognition, audience, some corroboration that all those hours at the desk and in daydreams add up to something in the esteem of others."

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You deserve to die," I whisper, suddenly realizing Iv'e said the words aloud. "Excuse me?" "Nothing." "Not nothing. You just told me that I deserve to be maggot feed." "Not maggot feed, just-" "Dead!" "Forget it" "I don't know why I said that. Just daydreaming, I guess." "Daydreaming about my death?" "Forget it", I repeat. "Are you sure you aren't still mad that I wouldn't let you borrow my vintage fishnet leggings?" "More like I didn't want to borrow them.

— Laurie Faria Stolarz