I’ve been meaning to write about the Rolling Stones, but I am the furthest thing from a hipster rock journalist.
The one thing I have found about Hollywood is it’s a town full of people who believe in themselves, often to a degree where they’re what you would call “delusional.”
People are more interested in being visible than they are in loving other people.
My boyfriend is Italian and from New Jersey, so naturally he was thrilled to meet Joe Pesci.
Let it be said that the makeup artist at ‘90210’ made me look better for the fake red carpet than I’ve ever looked on an actual red carpet.
I’m a pessimist by nature. I don’t think things are ever going to work out, I’m not particularly ambitious.
Judy Blume excels at describing how it feels to be invisible. So how poetic is it that Blume herself is suddenly everywhere?
It’s possible that I’ve matured as a writer, and I hope I’ve matured emotionally, but I always find myself revisiting these adolescent scenes.
It’s actually much harder to develop a TV show than I had anticipated.
The things that I write are autobiographical in a surreal sense, like when you have a dream and you go to the doctor’s office, but then you turn around and it’s actually your childhood home and the doctor has turned into Ryan Reynolds.
In the past, I’ll admit, I’ve enjoyed being compared to the protagonists in my screenplays.
I’ve come to find more satisfaction and enjoyment in writing screenplays over the years because that’s what I do primarily now.
And I think I’m an adrenaline junkie, and there’s nothing that will spike your adrenaline more than sitting in a theater and listen to an audience react to something you’ve written.
The stuff I write isn’t strictly autobiographical, but it’s personal, if that makes any sense. It draws all these little incidents and people out of my life and then contorts them.
The fact is, when I wrote ‘Juno’ – and I think this is part of its charm and appeal – I didn’t know how to write a movie. And I also had no idea it was going to get made!
I myself identify as a recovering Blockhead. You’d be surprised how many twenty- and thirty-something hipster chicks have the NKOTB skeleton in their closet, albeit artfully concealed by stacks of Ksubi skinny jeans and ironic Judas Priest T-shirts.
People don’t have these tidy little redemption arcs in reality the way they do in movies.
The public’s appetite for frothy, flippant blondes has waned, but Paris Hilton still fascinates me.
Los Angeles is often described as the nadir of vapidity, a smog-choked space cradle.
I think it’s great when writers get recognition; it doesn’t happen very often. I just don’t want that writer to be me. Let it be Aaron Sorkin or, you know, somebody good.