I made a very slatternly mother, notably unkeen on housework, unaware that homes need to be cleaned now and then, and too often to be found with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other.
I dated a guy and he liked me but I didn't like him. I went through his wardrobe and cleaned out his house and got him to get a new car. He said to me, 'If I give you $10,000, will you find me my wife because I want someone like you?' And within a year, he got married. That was the first match that led to me leaving my corporate job.
Let me back up a little and tell you why I prefer writing to real life: You can rewrite. A novel, for example, can be cleaned up, altered, trimmed, improved. Life, on the other hand, is one big messy rough draft.
