We Need The Skeletons Of Other Stories

Childhood Is Such A Delicate Tissue; What They Had Done This Morning Could Snag Somewhere In The Little Ones, Make A Dull, Small Pain That Will Circle Back Again And Again, And Hurt Them In Small Ways For The Rest Of Their Lives.

A Lot Of My Work Comes From A Place Of Despair Or Fear. I Often Write In Order To Gain Some Sort Of Control Over Aspects Of My Life Or The World That Seem Too Dark To Look At Directly.

Who, In The Midst Of Passion, Is Vigilant Against Illness? Who Listens To The Reports Of Recently Decimated Populations In Spain, India, Bora Bora, When New Lips, Tongues And Poems Fill The World?

I Love Writing From Enclosed Spaces: You Really Learn About Your Characters When They Have Tight Walls To Push Against.

And She, The New Mother Of A Daughter, Felt A Fierceness Come Over Her That Seized At Her Heart, That Made Her Feel As If Her Bones Were Turned To Steel, As If She Could Turn Herself Into A Weapon To Keep This Daughter Of Hers From Having To Be Hurt By The World Outside The Ring Of Her Arms.