Jill Felt An Emptiness Open Inside Of

I'm Not Sure That It's Possible To Write A Novel About People Who Don't Transgress Or Stumble, People Who Don't Surprise Themselves With The Things They Do, People Who Can Explain All Their Actions With Perfect Logical Consistency. At Least It's Not Possible For Me To Write That Sort Of Novel.

Jill Felt An Emptiness Open Inside Of Her As She Lifted Her Arm, A Sense That Something Vital Was Being Subtracted From Her Life. It Was Always Like That When Somebody You Cared About Went Away, Even When You Knew It Was Inevitable, And It Probably Wasn't Your Fault.

The Interesting Part About The Writing Process Is That You Can Never See All The Way To The End, Not If Something Is Happening Over The Course Of A Year And A Half, Or Two Years.

They Both Seemed To Understand That Describing It Was Beyond Their Powers, The Gratitude That Spreads Through Your Body When A Burden Gets Lifted, And The Sense Of Homecoming That Follows, When You Suddenly Remember What It Feels Like To Be Yourself.

Once You'd Broken Through That Invisible Barrier That Separates One Person From Another, You Were Connected Forever, Whether You Liked It Or Not.