Memories Of Ice And Trent Surfaced, And

I’d Given Up On The White Picket Fence After Kisten Had Died—finding Out My Kids Would Be Demons Was The Nail In The Coffin.

I Turned Back To The Mirror, Seeing That There Were No Lines On It. It Was Empty. "what Happened To My Mirror?" I Said, Bewildered. Then Realizing That I Was Looking At The Back Of The Dumb Thing, I Swore And Turned It Over.

Don't Fall Into The Trap Of Having To Have Everything Perfect To Write Or Wait Until The Mood Strikes You. If You Want It As A Job, Treat It Like A Job, And Just As You Don't Go To Work Only When You Feel Like It, You Have To Condition Yourself To Sit And Write Even When The Ideas Don't Flow.

Though No One Had Been Buried Here For Almost Thirty Years, The Grass Was Mown By Yours Truly. I Felt A Tidy Graveyard Made A Happy Graveyard.

I Sat For A Moment, Figuring Things Out, Then Decided To Stay There. If I Was On The Floor, I Couldn't Fall Down.