My sister Tiffany told me years ago, ‘You can never write about me.’ Then she called six months ago and said she wanted to be in a story. She was worried people thought I didn’t like her.
I’ve never gone on Facebook and am not sure I understand it. The same goes for Twitter. I have someone sending tweets and pretending to be me, but I don’t know why.
When you read comic material and people aren’t laughing how do you know they’re listening.
To say that a humorist exaggerates to get big laughs, I don’t see how that’s big news.
Because I’ve always been a fairly nervous person.
I don’t like to read anything on the radio for the very first time, because I don’t have any notion of a reaction. When I read it out loud, then I get an idea of that, and more of an idea of how to read.
There are lots of things that happen to me that I don’t write about.
It’s hard to love a place that’s outlawed smoking but finds it perfectly acceptable to serve raw fish in a bath of chocolate.
I always knew I wanted it to be illustrated.
People ask me, ‘Have you ever considered doing stand-up?’ To me it would be less offensive if someone asked me, ‘Have you ever considered dental implants?’
Usually, if I think something is really funny, it doesn’t get any reaction whatsoever.
Write relentlessly, until you find your voice. Then, use it.
No one writes dialect better than Flannery O’Connor. No one should even try.
My boyfriend got me a computer three years ago. I’ll admit it does make things a lot easier. When I was working on a typewriter and I whited out a line, often I would choose a word to go in the space just because it fit. Now I don’t have to do that.
Each one of us is left to choose our own quality of life and take pleasure where we find it with the understanding that, like Mom used to say, sooner or later something’s gonna get you.
I like to reserve the right to write about whatever I like.
I just think that the people who say: ‘That’s not true’ when someone tells a story at dinner are the people who didn’t get any laughs when they told their story.
Faced with an exciting question, science tended to provide the dullest possible answer. Ions might charge the air but they fell flat when it came to charging the imagination – my imagination, anyway.
In my dream world gay people in America would get the right to marry, and not a one of them would use that right.
I’ve always been very upfront about the way I write, and I’ve always used the tools humorists use, such as exaggeration.