Nineteen Eighty Is Almost Here, Thank God.

Her Only Thought Was Of Getting Away, As If She Were Carrying A Live Grenade From Inside The House, So That When It Exploded, It Would Destroy Just Herself.

At Night, The House Thick With Sleep, She Would Peer Out Her Bedroom Window At The Trees And Sky And Feel The Presence Of A Mystery. Some Possibility That Included Her--separate From Her Present Life And Without Its Limitations. A Secret. Riding In The Car With Her Father, She Would Look Out At Other Cars Full Of People She'd Never Seen, Any One Of Whom She Might Someday Meet And Love, And Would Feel The World Holding Her Making Its Secret Plans.

Reading Is The Nourishment That Lets You Do Interesting Work.

Be Willing And Unafraid To Write Badly, Because Often The Bad Stuff...forms A Base On Which To Build Something Better.

I've Never Been That Confident. I Don't Tend To Think, Swaggeringly, I'm Going To Ace This. It's Just Not Who I Am.