An Idea Might Spark An Essay, But

Consolation Is A Beautiful Word. Everyone Skins His Knee-that Doesnt Make Yours Hurt Anyless.

I Probably Have Less Revision Than Those Who Have That Wonderful Rush Of Story To Tell - You Know, I Can't Wait To Tell You What Happened The Other Day. It Comes Tumbling Out And Maybe Then They Go Back And Refine. I Kind Of Envy That Way Of Working, But I Just Have Never Done It.

Just Once In My Life--oh, When Have I Ever Wanted Anything Just Once In My Life?

I Know When A Story Is Finished When There Is Not A Single Thing More I Can Think To Do To It. And Since I Know At The Start What The Last Line Will Be, I Know When I've Reached That Point As Logically As I Can That It's Finished. As For The Rewriting-it's Not Foolproof, Of Course, But If You're Honest About Having Thought Of Every Possibility And You Still Come Back To What You Have, What More Can You Do?

Then The Children Went To Bed, Or At Least Went Upstairs, And The Men Joined The Women For A Cigarette On The Porch, Absently Picking Ticks Engorged Like Grapes Off The Sleeping Dogs. And When The Men Kissed The Women Good Night, And Their Weekend Whiskers Scratched The Women's Cheeks, The Women Did Not Think Shave, They Thought Stay.