Ask the Author: Caroline Leavitt
Answered Questions (10)
Caroline Leavitt
The Glass Hotel by Emily st. John mandel. Writers and Lovers by Lily King! What are on yours?
Caroline Leavitt
As always, I woke up alone. Except I heard breathing beside me.
Caroline Leavitt
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Caroline Leavitt
Aurora, email me! carleavitt@hotmail.com. I will send you a copy. And thanks for wanting it~
Caroline Leavitt
I rewrite something that I've already written and think is okay. That usually unlocks stuff. Or I outline. Then it goes away!
Caroline Leavitt
You get to make up stories! You get to live other lives! It is the best feeling in the world.
Caroline Leavitt
Never ever give up. I had many failed novels and I thought my career was over. No one knew who I was and I had no sales. Then Algonquin snapped up a novel of mine that had been rejected by my then publisher as "not being special enough." They turned it into a New York Times and USA Today Bestseller the month it came out!
Also, write what haunts you. Write the novel that can change your life, and it will change others' lives, as well. Honest.
Also, write what haunts you. Write the novel that can change your life, and it will change others' lives, as well. Honest.
Caroline Leavitt
I sold another novel to Algonquin based on the first 70 pages. Now I have to write the rest, which is scary and thrilling both.
Caroline Leavitt
I always say that writing is like my Valium. I live a happy, goofy life, but my novels are all dark. I have a physical need to write!
Caroline Leavitt
When I was 17, a friend of mine, who was engaged to a much older man who was controlling, was murdered by her fiance because she wanted to break up. I was haunted. Ten years later, my own fiance died suddenly and I was heartstruck with grief. I felt the only way to get out of it was to plunge into a relationship. I plunged into the wrong one, with a soft=spoken guy who assured me he loved me over and over, even as he was telling me I was a little too heavy (I was 95 pounds), I dressed wrongly, and I had bad friends. I began to believe him, and it wasn't until he destroyed a chapter of my novel in progress and replaced it with Groucho Marx jokes, that I reacted. "There is no you," he told me gently. "There is just me." That's when I knew I had to leave, and when I realized I had been emotionally abused.
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