No Fight Is Hopeless Till It Has

You Could Make A Poultice Out Of Mud To Cool A Fever. You Could Plant Seeds In Mud And Grow A Crop To Feed Your Children. Mud Would Nourish You, Where Fire Would Only Consume You, But Fools And Children And Young Girls Would Choose Fire Every Time.

Men Will Always Underestimate You, He Said, And Their Pride Will Make Them Want To Vanquish You Quickly, Lest It Be Said That A Woman Tried Them Sorely. Let Them Spend Their Strength In Furious Attacks, Whilst You Conserve Your Own. Wait And Watch, Girl, Wait And Watch.

There’s Part Of Me That Loves Words. But Sometimes It Feels Like You’re Trying To Drive Nails With Your Shoe.

I Am Not Going To Get Into It Myself, Except To Say (1) If I Am Writing "boy Fiction," Who Are All Those Boys With Breasts Who Keep Turning Up By The Hundreds At My Signings And Readings? And (2) Thank You, Geek Girls! I Love You All.

There Are No Happy Endings.