Like Most Hearts, It Was Complicated, Shaded

I Journal For About Half An Hour, And By The Time That's Done, The Business Day On The East Coast Has Begun. The Phone Starts To Ring, And The Rest Of The Day Is Spent Dealing With The Business Of Writing. My Workday Is Done At About 3:00.

Rob Horton, The Main Character Of The Tiger Rising, Was A Secondary Character In An Adult Short Story I Wrote, And He Wouldn't Go Away After I'd Finished The Short Story. I Couldn't Figure Out What He Wanted, So I Wrote To Find Out.

He Was Weeping. Although 'weeping' Really Is To Small A Word For The Activity The Kind Had Undertaken. Tears Were Cascading From His Eyes. A Small Puddle Had Formed At His Feet. I Am Not Exaggerating. The King, It Seemed, Was Intent On Crying Himself A River.

What Was It Like...to Have Someone Who Knew You Would Always Return And Who Welcomed You With Open Arms?

It Seems To Be That Way With Most Things. No One To Do The Really Disagreeable Jobs Except Oneself.