We're All Blessed And We're All Blighted,

A Good Journalist, As You Know, Is A Great Listener. And So's A Good Writer. And I Got To Listen To People For Almost 20 Years. That Serves Me Well, I Hope, When I Try To Understand How A Character Might Be Feeling, Or How They Might React.

The Women In The Room Chatted About Love, About Childhood, About Losing Parents, About Mr. Spock, About Good Books They'd Read. They Mothered Each Other.

But There Was No Hiding From Conscience. Not In New Homes And New Cars. In Travel. In Meditation Or Frantic Activity. In Children, In Good Works. On Tiptoes Or Bended Knee. In A Big Career. Or A Small Cabin. It Would Find You. The Past Always Did. Which Was Why... It Was Vital To Be Aware Of Actions In The Present. Because The Present Became The Past, And The Past Grew. And Got Up, And Followed You. And Found You... Who Wouldn't Be Afraid Of This?

I've Seen Enough Successful Writers Who No Longer Seem To Care When They Are Recognized With An Award, And I Think That's Just Tragic.

What Did Falling In Love Do For You? Can You Ever Really Explain It? It Filled Empty Spaces I Never Knew Were Empty. It Cured A Loneliness I Never Knew I Had. It Gave Me Joy. And Freedom. I Think That Was The Most Amazing Part. I Suddenly Felt Both Embraced And Freed At The Same Time.