There's always something uncool about what I do.
In the U.S. we have the mentality that you can make it on your own.
I feel like the more serious a life event is that you share on social media, the more ridiculous it sort of becomes, the more you sort of self-trivialize.
What was so comforting was that the more I started being honest on my blog, the more people responded.
I know people think that having a regular publisher is more prestigious, there is even this idea that self-publishing is a result of being snubbed. But self-publishing really appeals to me.
The idea that my life would be something I shared with the public wasn't just something that I assumed - it was something that I actively wanted. I still want it.
With everything that's happened since I was exposed as a scammer, I can't lie, it's been good for business. Now I can sell my story for way more than my original book deal ever was.
I am more respectful of the parasocial relationship of myself and my fans than anything Damien Hirst does between himself and his collectors.
I love fame. I love being written about. I don't really mind if people think I'm a bad writer, if they don't understand my weird Instagram performance art or they find my long captions annoying. That's part of the package of being in the public eye, and honestly I find it exhilarating.
I wanted to create art that fit the Pinterest interior aesthetic, because that is so of the internet age and my platform, my celebrity.
It's not that I don't experience absolute sadness, which is very unentertaining, but I think - when I'm being really honest about myself - I think there's, like, a really performative streak in my personality.