You Can't Doubt So Much, Psyche

L.a. Kills People.' Jacaranda Said. 'you're Lucky You're Leaving. You'll Be Able To Write.' She Looked Paler, Going Through Another Depression, Smoking In Bed In Her Lilac Room. The Walls Were The Color Of Her Veins. She Was Getting Too Thin, Even For The Modeling. . .jacaranda Died Last Winter When The Flowering Trees Were Bare. You Couldn't Even Tell Which Ones Once Cried The Purple Blossoms She Named Herself After.

Maybe Any Love We Ever Have Is An Angel In Whatever Form.

Write With Abandon And No Constraints For First Draft. Cut Brutally And Save In Separate Files On Second Draft. Add Conflict; Don't Be Afraid To Make Your Characters Suffer. Read What You Love. Write What You Love. Love.

Sometimes She Has Imagined What It Would Be Like To Fly, To Live In The River, To Run Like A Horse. She Has Dreamed Of That Freedom, That Power, And Fears The Wildness In Herself That Wants To Live As Beasts Live, Moved Purely By Need And Desire. She Has Felt Torn Between The Heat Of Her Limbs And The Thoughts In Her Mind Telling Her To Be Careful And Good And Always Calm. Don't Scream Or Cry, Don't Run To Him And Throw Yourself At His Feet, Pleading For Him To Take You In His Arms, Don't Strip Off Your Clothes And Run Naked To The Water, Wild With Wanting.

I Didn't Tell Him That What I Was Most Scared Of, Most Haunted By, Was Something I Didn't Understand And Could Never Run Away From. It Was Myself.