But, how do you know if an ending is truly good for the characters unless you've traveled with them through every page?
Writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.
I think the only way to get through this life is laughing hard and constantly, mostly at myself.
The rewrites are a struggle right now. Sometimes I wish writing a book could just be easy for me at last. But when I think about it practically, I am glad it's a struggle. I am (as usual) attempting to write a book that's too hard for me. I'm telling a story I'm not smart enough to tell. The risk of failure is huge. But I prefer it this way. I'm forced to learn, forced to smarten myself up, forced to wrestle. And if it works, then I'll have written something that is better than I am.
Many times I have learned that, you never judge a book by its cover. Like people, it is the inside that counts.
Even the jerks earn some of our affection. We can be glad they're gone and yet still mourn the good parts.
... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
Look no farther than your hand, Make a choice and take a stand.
Mama used to say, you have to know someone a thousand days before you can glimpse her soul.
Truth is when your mind and your gut agree.
You are my butterfly and refuse to set you free.
I do like the world quite a lot.
My ma says a rock lasts forever, but people don’t, and that’s what makes them more precious.
You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king. There is no such thing as royal blood. I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.
The book smelled dusty and old but also carried a sweet tang, a hint of something inviting. She opened to the first page and started to read, pronouncing the words in a reverent whisper.
I, Geric-Sinath of Gerhard, declare that you're beautiful and you're perfect and I'll slay any man who tries to take you from my side. Goose girl, may I kiss you?
Being a writer is a good, good thing.
I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.
For Colin Firth: You're a really great guy, but I'm married, so I think we should just be friends.
Throwing herself into learning helped Miri ignore the painful chill of solitude around her.
All I've ever wanted was to be near you.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a thirty-something woman in possession of a satisfying career and fabulous hairdo must be in want of very little
Will you accompany me in this dance?” he said, bowing and holding out his hand. “No, thank you.” Miri smiled. The prince frowned and looked and the chief delegate as if for assistance. Miri laughed self consciously. “I, uh, I was teasing.
I was sorry to lose it, and if you make me another one, I promise not to get taken captive by bandits and have to use it to save my life.
Clearly she was expected to say something, but panic at having to speak stole the thoughts from her head.
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