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I was working for Vogue. They'd already created the cover line: "Self-Respect--Its Source, Its Power." The piece was assigned, and it didn't come in, so I was assigned to write it. It was totally made up as I went along. We did a lot of cover lines for pieces that never came in that I wrote. One was called "Jealousy: Is It a Curable Illness?" I don't remember the answer.
Do you feel you still can write?
I feel right now as if I can't grab hold of what I want to write. All I have to do is work harder, force myself to ignore the fact that I don't physically feel very good, stop feeling sorry for myself and start another book. I know I can do it.
In the book, your nephew Griffin tells you that friends and family are worried about you. How do you feel when you hear that?
I feel furious. I can't deal with everybody's idea of what's best for me. I don't need supporting. At this point, what would be most helpful for me is to just get some work done.