Gillian Flynn
Gillian Flynn
Gillian Schieber Flynnis an American author, screenwriter, comic book writer and former television critic for Entertainment Weekly. Flynn's three published novels are the thrillers Sharp Objects, Dark Places, and Gone Girl, the latter of which she adapted for the screen in the 2014 film of the same name directed by David Fincher...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth24 February 1971
CityKansas City, MO
CountryUnited States of America
Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them.
Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.
A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.
To spend a life in dreams, that sounded too lovely.
I just think some women aren't made to be mothers. And some women aren't made to be daughters.
Problems always start long before you really, really see them.
People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.
People say children from broken homes have it hard, but the children of charmed marriages have their own particular challenges.
I feel myself trying to be charming, and then I realize I’m obviously trying to be charming, and then I try to be even more charming to make up for the fake charm, and then I’ve basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I’m dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me. There’s a bowler and jazz hands and lots of teeth.
She’s easy to like. I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment - that just anyone could like you.
Because isn’t that the point of every relationship: to be known by someone else, to be understood? He gets me. She gets me. Isn’t that the simple magic phrase?
Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.
I waited patiently - years - for the pendulum to swing the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, learn how to knit, pretend to love cosmos, organize scrapbook parties, and make out with each other while we leer. And then we'd say, Yeah, he's a Cool Guy.
I don't understand the point of being together if you're not the happiest.