The fictional treatment of biographical material - a treatment that for me is essential - is full of traps.
Those who write need that "willing suspension of disbelief ", as Coleridge called it.
At most, I may write when I am disturbed by something. I have recently discovered the pleasure of finding written answers to written questions.
It's the people who love us or hate us - or both - who hold together the thousands of fragments we are made of.
My work stops at publication. If the books don't contain in themselves their reasons for being - questions and answers - it means I was wrong to have them published.
I think our sexuality is all yet to be recounted and that the rich male literary tradition constitutes a huge obstacle.
Competition between women is good only if it does not prevail; that is to say if it coexists with affinity, affection, with a real sense of being mutually indispensable, with sudden peaks of solidarity in spite of envy, jealousy and the whole inevitable cohort of bad feelings.
I no longer protect myself from the world I grew up in. Rather, today I try to protect the feelings I have for that world, the emotional space where my desire to write first took hold, and still grows.
Writing for me is a dragnet that carries everything away with it: expressions and figures of speech, postures, feelings, thoughts, troubles. In short, the lives of others.
I had to discover very quickly that class origins cannot be erased, regardless of whether we climb up or down the sociocultural ladder.
I don't have any special passion for politics, it being a never-ending merry-go-round of bosses big and small, all generally mediocre. I actually find it boring.
I have always paid careful attention to social and economic conflicts, to the dialectic - if we can call it that - between high and low. Maybe it's because I was not born or brought up in affluence.
In order not to cut out a large part of one's private life, the creative work should not swallow up every other form of self-expression. But that is the most complicated thing.
Women, in all fields - whether mothers or not - still encounter an extraordinary number of obstacles. They have to hold too many things together and often sacrifice their aspirations in the name of affections.
Climbing the economic ladder has been very hard for me; I still feel a great deal of guilt towards those I left behind.
Elena Ferrante is the author of several novels. There is nothing mysterious about her, given how she manifests herself - perhaps even too much - in her own writing, the place where her creative life transpires in absolute fullness.
Anonymity lets me concentrate exclusively on writing.
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