Tonight, I told Bret Easton Ellis my story, and asked him if there was something he wished he’d known twenty-five years ago when he was in his early twenties and on the verge of publishing. First, he congratulated me. Then, he told me he used to be nervous when he was young, too.  He said I needed to sleep, and to drink a glass of wine every night.  ”But it’s out of your hands, so just relax.  No one cares about your madness but you.  Just relax.”

Thank you for more than you realize, Mr. Ellis.