I Always Thought I Was Different.

I Am Coming To Terms With The Fact That Loving Someone Requires A Leap Of Faith, And That A Soft Landing Is Never Guaranteed.

In Midair, Dangling Lost Above The World.

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!

There Are Some Things In This World You Rely On, Like A Sure Bet. And When They Let You Down, Shifting From Where You've Carefully Placed Them, It Shakes Your Faith, Right Where You Stand.

What Happened To Goodbye?