Q: Why was this you last writers conference?

A: I don't need to do it anymore.

I did it.

One person came.

That's insulting.

Q: Two people came. You asked one of them to leave.

A: The one I asked to leave was a buttinski.

He wanted to hear himself talk.

Q: I guess one is discouraging.

A: It isn't a question of discouraging.

On a cost-benefit basis, it takes more out of me than I get back.

I have to conserve my resources.

I don't like to leave my writing room.

I want to be a recluse.

What's the point of being the poor boy at the party. Don't go to the party.

Let them party on. Without you.

I'm not left out, so much as I eliminated myself.

I wrote the wrong books.

I want to go on writing the wrong books.

Do it, then.

Do what you want. Then pay for it.

Q: I think HOUSEHUSBAND: A CORREPONDENCE NOVEL describes your life pretty well, the life of a serious literary writer at the beginning of the 21st Century.

A: This is what it's like.

Are you man enough? Woman enough? Cripple , queer, freak.

The hippies were right. Nixon was wrong.

Colleges are teaching people how to cheat and steal in business school.

Business majors are creeps. They're selfish, insecure, and backwards, politically, artistically, and emotionally.

They would have been draft-dodgers in Vietnam.

Now they're editors and agents.

You see the literature we get.

We get what we deserve.