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For Feel-good Fiction To Work, There Has To Be An Element Of Darkness.

-Marian Keyes

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For Feel-good Fiction To

Marian Keyes

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For Feel-good Fiction To Work, There Has To Be An Element Of Darkness.

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Love And Kindness Go Hand In Hand.

Love And Kindness

For All Of My Life It Was The Size Of My Rear That Caused Me The Most Hand-wringing, But In This Nearly-50 Zone It Is My Stomach That Is The Problem. It Seems To Have Broken Free From Its Moorings And There Is No Knowing How Far It Will Roam.

You Will Go On And Meet Someone Else And I'll Just Be A Chapter In Your Tale, But For Me, You Were, You Are And You Always Will Be, The Whole Story.

In An Unpredictable And Unpleasant World It Was Both Unusual And Very Pleasant To Hear What I Wanted To Hear.

I'm Proud Of What I Write And Feel Endorsed By My Readers.

I Know Of People Who Don't Believe It, But Depression Is An Illness, But Unlike, Say, A Broken Leg, You Don't Know When It'll Get Better.

My Mother Is The Best Storyteller. And Her Mother Was Too.

I'm Quite Introverted But I'm Not Shy.

I've Always Been Melancholic. At A Party, Everyone Would Be Looking At The Glittering Chandeliers And I'd Be Looking At The Waitress's Cracked Shoes.

So I'm Back Again To The Eternal Question, The One That Has Plagued Me All My Life: How Do Other People Do It? How Come They Were Given Life's Rule Book And I Missed Out? Where Was I When God Was Dispensing Capability And Cop On? Looking At Shoes, Probably.

I Sighed. "what Is Life But Fleeting Moments Of Happiness Strung Together On Necklace Of Despair?

Some Think Love Can Be Measured By The Amount Of Butterflies In Their Tummy. Others Think Love Can Be Measured In Bunches Of Flowers, Or By Using The Words 'for Ever.' But Love Can Only Truly Be Measured By Actions. It Can Be A Small Thing, Such As Peeling An Orange For A Person You Love Because You Know They Don't Like Doing It.

Do I Mind Being Called A Chick-lit Writer? Well, It's Not The Worst Thing That Could Happen.

You Know What It's Like. Sometimes, You Meet A Wonderful Person, But It's Only For A Brief Instant. Maybe On Vacation Or On A Train Or Maybe Even In A Bus Line. And They Touch Your Life For A Moment, But In A Special Way. And Instead Of Mourning Because They Can't Be With You For Longer, Or Because You Don't Get The Chance To Know Them Better, Isn't It Better To Be Glad That You Met Them At All?

Nothing Sinister. Just Getting Exercise. Although Some Might Consider That Sinister.

Although Will Never Love Anyone Again, Don't Want To Become Bitter. Or Creative.

Waiting To Be 'better' Is The Wrong Approach. It's Learning To Live With It.

As You Know, I Don't Believe In Fear, Just An Invention By Men So They Get All The Money And Good Jobs.

Besides, I'd Seen A Really Nice Pair Of Shoes Yesterday In The Mall And I Wanted Them For My Own. I Can't Describe The Feeling Of Immediate Familiarity That Rushed Between Us. The Moment I Clapped Eyes On Them I Felt Like I Already Owned Them. I Could Only Suppose That We Were Together In A Former Life. That They Were My Shoes When I Was A Serving Maid In Medieval Britain Or When I Was A Princess In Ancient Egypt. Or Perhaps They Were The Princess And I Was The Shoes. Who's To Know? Either Way I Knew That We Were Meant To Be Together.

I'd Rather Dig A Ditch Than Go To A Dinner Party With People I Don't Know.

Hen Nights Should Be Banned. You're Honour-bound To Behave Atrociously, Then Feel Terribly Ashamed Afterwards. (this Charming Man)

Minsk! How Pissed-off That Sounded! It Was Great. You Could Scare The Bejayzus Out Of Someone If You Said It Right.

There's No Doubt That Relationships Do Suffer When Circumstances Change Profoundly.

He Seemed Wild And Dangerous And Carefree--well, He Would, Would'nt He? What Were Motorcycles And Black Leather Pants If Not The Uniform Of A Wild, Dangerous And Carefree Man?

Political Correctness Is A Minefield

Political Correctness

I Still Get Awful Depression. It's Who I Am.

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Funnier.

Failed Relationships Can Be Described As So Much Wasted Makeup. Forget The Laughs, Forget The Fights, Forget The Sex, Forget The Jealousy. But Take Off Your Hat And Observe A Moment's Silence For The Legions Of Unknown Tubes Of Foundation, Mascara, Eyeliner, Blusher And Lipstick Who Died That It Might All Have Been Possible. But Who Died In Vain.

For Feel-good Fiction To Work, There Has To Be An Element Of Darkness.

One Day We'll All Be Dead, And None Of This Will Matter" -the Brightest Star In The Sky.

Medically Speaking, There Is No Such Thing As A Nervous Breakdown. Which Is Very Annoying To Discover When You're Right In The Middle Of One.

Optimism Can Be Relearnt.

Every Day I Wake Up Afraid That I Won't Be Able To Write, That Today Is The Day It Has Left Me.

Today Is The Day

Chick Lit Uses Humor To Reflect Life Back To Us. It's A Very Comforting Genre, And It's The First Time Our Generation Has Had A Voice. It's A Very Important Genre For All Of Those Reasons.

They Say The Path Of True Love Never Runs Smooth. Well, Luke And My True Love's Path Didn't Run At All, It Limped Along In New Boots That Were Chafing Its Heels. Blistered And Cut, Red And Raw, Every Hopping, Lopsided Step, A Little Slice Of Agony.

I've Never Made A Secret Of The Fact That I'd Have Loved To Have Children.

I Rang My Mother To Thank Her For Giving Birth To Me And She Said, "what Choice Had I? You Were In There, How Else Were You Going To Get Out?

Relationship Gurus Always Said That An Attraction Based On Friendship And Mutual Respect Was Far More Likely To Stay The Course - And The Bastards Were Right.

The Best Anyone Can Do Is Breathe In, Breathe Out And Wait For It To Pass.

No More Humiliation For Me, Thanks Very Much. No More Swallowing My Anger. Honestly, I Couldn't Manage Another Mouthful. But It Was Delicious. Did You Make It Yourself?

My Friend Kathy Is The Only Person Who'll Be Halfway Honest With Me. 'did You Ever See A Cowboy Film, Where Someone Has Been Caught By The Indians And Tied Between Two Wild Stallions, Each Pulling In Opposite Directions?' She Asked.i Nodded Mutely.'that's A Bit What Giving Birth Is Like.

When Happiness Makes A Guest Appearance In One's Life,it's Important To Make The Most Of It.it May Not Stay Around For Long And When It Has Gone Wouldn't It Be Terrible To Think That All The Time One Could Have Been Happy Was Wasted Worrying When The Happiness Would Be Taken Away.

The Back Windows Looked Out Over The Fields, Then The Atlantic, Maybe A Hundred Yards Away. Actually, I'm Just Making That Bit Up. I Had No Idea How Far Away The Sea Was. Only Men Could Do Things Like That. "half A Mile." "fifty Yards." Giving Directions, That Sort Of Thing. I Could Look At A Woman And Say "thirty-six C." Or "let's Try It In The Next Size Up." But I Had No Idea How Far Away Tim's Sea Was Except That I Wouldn't Want To Walk To It In High Heels.

... I Am More Of An Ambler. I Once Overheard My Old Boss In Dublin Describe Me As Very "hello Trees, Hello Flowers." It Was Intended As An Insult And It Fulfilled Its Brief; I Was Insulted. I Had Little Interest In Greeting Trees And Flowers But Nor Did I Treat Life As A Treadmill, On Which It Was Vital To Keep Fleeing Forward In Order To Avoid Being Sucked Off The Back And Out Of The Game.

My Truth Is That What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Weaker Rather Than Stronger, Although It Makes You Wiser.

I Am Prone To Despair. We Are All Born With A Particular Personality. I Get Afraid And Then I Don't Want To Leave The House.

It's Not Like You Take The Right Turning And You Get Everlasting Happiness And You Take The Wrong One And Your Life's A Disaster. In Real Life It's Often Impossible To Tell Which Decision Is The One You Should Make Because What You Stand To Gain And What You Stand To Lose Are Sometimes-often-neck And Neck.

When God Closes One Door, He Slams Another In Your Face

The Feel Of Them (books) And The Smell Of Them. A Bookshop Was Like An Aladdin's Cave For Me. Entire Worlds And Lives Can Be Found Just Behind That Glossy Cover. All You Had To Do Was Look." Claire (watermelon)

I'd Rather Eat Nothing Than Eat A Carrot.

I Loved Being In My Own Head So Much, It Was Getting Harder And Harder Being With Other People.

You've Recognised A Fundamental Feature Of An Addict's Life. Maintaining Your Habit Is So Important You've No Real Interest In Anything Else.

It Was Only When The Salt Water Of My Tears Ran Into My Cuts And Made Them Sting That I Discovered I Was Crying.

I Wished There Was Some Kind Of Switch On My Brain. That I Could Turn It Off In The Same Way That I Could Turn Off The Television. Just Click It Off And Immediately Empty My Mind Of All These Images And Worrying Thoughts. And Simply Leave A Blank Screen. Or If I Could Just Remove My Head And Put It On The Bedside Table And Forget About It Until Morning. And Then Attach It Again When I Needed It.

Slasher Hathaway Marks His Territory By Spending Money. He Might As Well Have Pissed On Her. It Means Nothing.

I Never Wear Flats. My Shoes Are So High That Sometimes When I Step Out Of Them, People Look Around In Confusion And Ask, "where'd She Go?" And I Have To Say, "i'm Down Here.

People Get Sick And Sometimes They Get Better And Sometimes They Don't. And It Doesn't Matter If The Sickness Is Cancer Or If It's Depression. Sometimes The Drugs Work And Sometimes They Don't. Sometimes The Drugs Work For A While And Then They Stop. Sometimes The Alternative Stuff Works And Sometimes It Doesn't. And Sometimes You Wonder If No Outside Interference Makes Any Difference At All; If An Illness Is Like A Storm, If It Simply Has To Run Its Course And, At The End Of It, Depending On How Robust You Are, You Will Be Alive. Or You Will Be Dead.

Here's How It Is: I Feel Guilty About Every Single Bite Of Food That Goes Into My Mouth.

God! I Hated This Business Of Being Grown-up. I Hated Having To Make Decisions Where I Didn't Know What Was Behind The Door. I Wanted A World Where Heroes And Villains Were Clearly Labeled. Where Ominous Music Comes On-screen So You Can't Possibly Mistake Him. Where Someone Asks You To Choose Between Playing With The Beautiful Princess In The Fragrant Garden And Being Eaten By The Hideous Monster In The Foul-smelling Pit. Not Exactly A Difficult One, Now Is It? Not Something That You Would Agonize Over, Or That Would Make You Lose A Night's Sleep?

I Couldn’t Be With People And I Didn’t Want To Be Alone. Suddenly My Perspective Whooshed And I Was Far Out In Space, Watching The World. I Could See Millions And Millions Of People, All Slotted Into Their Lives; Then I Could See Me—i’d Lost My Place In The Universe. It Had Closed Up And There Was Nowhere For Me To Be. I Was More Lost Than I Had Known It Was Possible For Any Human Being To Be.

Why Do We Have Such A Finite Capacity For Pleasure But An Infinite One For Pain?

I Knew It, I Just Knew It! The Person Who Had The Job Of Writing My Life's Dialogue Used To Work On A Very Low Budget Soap Opera.

I Don't Like This Idea Of Division: That If You're A Clever Woman Then You've Got To Be A Particular Way. Because Men Don't. Men Please Themselves.

I Think Denial's Fascinating. It's A Jokey Word, But It Really Happens, And Sometimes In Enormous Ways.

How To Make God Laugh? Tell Him Your Plans.

Future Planning

I Used To Write In Bed, Starting When I Woke Up. I Believe That Creative Work Comes From Our Subconscious Mind, So I Try To Keep The Gap Between Sleep And Writing As Minimal As Possible.

Failed Relationships Can Be Described As So Much Wasted Make-up.

I Went Grey At 12, My Eyesight Went At 17. I've Been A Crock From Very Early On.

The Old Chinese Proverb Springs To Mind - No Pain, No Gain.

I Love Prada. Not So Much The Clothes, Which Are For Malnourished Thirteen-year-olds, But I Covet, With Covety Covetousness, The Shoes And Handbags. Like, I Love Them. If I Was Given A Choice Between World Peace And A Prada Handbag, I'd Dither. (i'm Not Proud Of This, I'm Only Saying.)

I Haven’t Had Botox Because My Face Is A Bit Lopsided And I Depend On Keeping Everything Animated So That People Don’t Notice.

I Had Spent My Whole Life Feeling Homesick. The Only Difference Between The Two Of Us Was That I Didn't Know What Or Where Home Was.

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