Time will wait until I am done doubting and grieving to resume its work.
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I cannot believe that some stories are better than other stories, or that some writers are better than other writers.
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Of all the things I can do, writing looks and feels the least like doing.
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To be allowed in to this party, I can’t complain about it or want it to be different; I have to just accept it, accept all of it, including that part of it called Me.
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Ideas always arrived when you were quiet, when you weren’t trying, when you weren’t worried, when you weren’t doubting.
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Once you see something as a choice, it’s power over you dissolves.
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I do love stories, but I have to tell the ones I actually want to hear.
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For all our ceaseless dreaming, humans spend a lot of time telling one another what is impossible.
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Tell a story from that part of yourself that is deeper than your age, or your gender, or your history, or your family, or your race.
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Sometimes people marry for the same wrong reasons they start books, loving not so much the person or the idea but the safety they hope will be provided to them.
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The only way to get out of The Hole is by doing nothing.
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