I Was So Thrilled That I Was

You, Have This Whole Tall, Dark Stranger Thing Going On. Not To Mention The Tortured Artist Bit. And You, Have That Whole Blonde Cool And Collected Perfect Smart Thing Going On. You're The Boy All The Girls Want To Rebel With. You, Are The Unattainable Girl In Homeroom Who Never Gives A Guy The Time Of Day.

But God!who Could Live Like This , Anyway, With The Kind Of Guesswork That Was Enough To Make A Person Crazy, Just Sailing Along, Taking Bumps Here And There, No Course Navigated Whatsoever, With Any Big Wave Capable Of Just Tipping And Sinking You Entirely. It Was Madness, Stipidity, And- (then I Saw Him)

Because It Is So Hard, In Any Life, To Believe In What You Can’t Fully Understand.

The Thing Is, You Can’t Always Have The Best Of Everything. Because For A Life To Be Real, You Need It All: Good And Bad, Beach And Concrete, The Familiar And The Unknown, Big Talkers And Small Towns.

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!