Writing Is A Job: You Must Show

I Came To Houston For A Job, The Reason Most People Move Halfway Across The Country With A First Grader And A Five-week-old. I Came Here To Teach At Rice.

Writing Is A Job: You Must Show Up.

We Live, We Die. Somewhere Along The Way, If We're Lucky, We May Find Someone To Help Lighten The Load.

It Had Never Occurred To Her That God Would Cry, But Of Course That Was Wrong. God Would Be Crying All The Time. He Would Cry And Cry And Never Stop.

A Baby Was A Fact. It Was A Being With A Mind And A Nature, And You Could Feel About It Any Way You Liked, But A Baby Wouldn't Care. Just By Existing, It Demanded That You Believe In A Future: The Future It Would Crawl In, Walk In, Live In. A Baby Was A Piece Of Time; It Was A Promise You Made That The World Made Back To You.