I Am Not Just What I Remember.

Unlike My Mother, My Father Does Not Cry Quietly. His Wails Roll Out Like A Wave Of Pain, And I Scramble To Roll Up My Window. My Mother Cannot Hear That. I Cannot Bear To Hear It Myself. I Am Not Used To My Father's Crying. I've Had No Time To Harden My Heart Against Him.

The Deadlines Are Much, Much Longer With Books. When I Was A Reporter, A Lot Of Times I'd Come In At 8:30 A.m., Get An Assignment Right Away, Interview Somebody, Turn The Story In By 9:30, And Have The Finished Story In The Paper That Landed On My Desk By Noon.

I Rise Up On My Tiptoes. He's Already Bending His Head Down, Moving His Lips Toward Mine. And Then, Well, I Haven't Exactly Studied This, But I'm Pretty Sure That Ours Is Not The Most Expert Kiss In Sualan History. It's A Little Hard To Figure Out How We Should Tilt Our Heads So Our Noses Don't Bump. But This Kiss Is A Promise, A Vow. Come To Think Of It, It Doesn't Really Matter That Ours Is Not The Most Expert Kiss In Sualan History. It's Still The Best.

After Ive Sent My Revised Draft To My Agent And Editor, They Suggest More Improvement Sand Again, This Revision Phase Can Take Anywhere From A Few Hours To A Few Months.

Sometimes I Can Spend As Long Revising A Manuscript As I Spent Writing It In The First Place.