One could get locked in by the Pulitzer, thinking, 'This is who I am.' Doors open with it, but doors in your mind could close.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
You have the feeling that if you get a Pulitzer, you're somehow set for life.
After I won the Pulitzer, there was this sense of, 'OK, that's enough for you. Now go away.' What I wanted was to keep writing, keep working. But no one would produce anything of mine they didn't think would be as big as 'night, Mother.'
I thought, after the Pulitzer, at least nothing will surprise me quite that much in my life. And another one happened. It was quite amazing.
When I feel there's a door open, you always walk through it.
The Pulitzer has nothing to do with me; it's more about people's perceptions of me, whatever they may be. I'm not being humble - I honestly do not and cannot think about that. It's a lovely piece of crystal on my bookcase, but that's all it is to me.
I see the poem or the novel ending with an open door.
A clever, imaginative, humorous request can open closed doors and closed minds.
My door is open.
The Pulitzer is a crapshoot. Your piece has to hit a few people the right way at the right moment.
The Pulitzer Prize is an idea; it's a vote of confidence. Like literature, it exists purely in the mind.