But You Could Also Look At It

This Was Always The Problem With My Mother And Me, I Suddenly Realized. There Were So Many Things We Thought We Agreed On, But Anythign Can Have Two Meanings. Like Sides Of A Coin, It Just Matters How It Falls.

Usually When I Finish The Draft Of A Book, I'm Sure I'll Never Write Another One. I'm Just That Tired And Sick Of Myself. But Then Another Idea Starts Percolating. It Usually Begins With The Narrator's Name, Then Some Idea That Intrigues Me About Her Life Or Situation. I Try To Ignore It As Long As I Can, Because I Know When I Start Writing, I'll Be Right Back Into It, Every Single Day. But Eventually, I Just Have To. It's A Compulsion!

It’s Funny How One Summer Can Change Everything.

I've Always Known Who I Am. I Might Not Work Perfectly, Or Be Like Them, But That's Okay. I Know I Work In My Own Way.

"which Is Completely Out-of-line Behavior. Then You Are Wholly Within Your Rights To Stomp On Their Foot." "no," Delia Said, Over Her Shoulder. "actually, You're Not. Just Excuse Yourself As Politely As Possible, And Get Out Of Arm's Reach." Kristy Looked At Me, Shaking Her Head. "stomp Them." She Said, Under Her Breath. "really."