A writer, I said, when my social worker asked me what I planned to do when I got out of the hospital. I'm going to be a writer. That's a nice hobby, but how are you going to earn a living? My social worker and I did not like each other. I didn't like her because she didn't understand that this was me, and I was going to be a writer; I was not going to type term bills or sell au gratin bowls or do any other stupid things.
Girl, Interrupted (1994)