You Save Yourself Or You Remain Unsaved.

It Was Buckley, As My Father And Sister Joined The Group And Listened To Grandma Lynn’s Countless Toasts, Who Saw Me. He Saw Me Standing Under The Rustic Colonial Clock And Stared. He Was Drinking Champagne. There Were Strings Coming Out From All Around Me, Reaching Out, Waving In The Air. Someone Passed Him A Brownie. He Held It In His Hand But Did Not Eat. He Saw My Shape And Face, Which Had Not Changed-the Hair Still Parted Down The Middle, The Chest Still Flat And Hips Undeveloped-and Wanted To Call Out My Name. It Was Only A Moment, And Then I Was Gone.

She No Longer Believed In Talk. It Never Rescued Anything.

I Like Gardening - It's A Place Where I Find Myself When I Need To Lose Myself.

I Mean, If I Went Into My Closet, I Could Find A Previous Draft And Try To Figure That Out, But It Takes A Long Time For Me To Find The Voice To Tell A Story In. I Was Working From Other Points Of View For A Couple Years There.

Depending On Where I Am In The Process, Sometimes I Have A Page Count And Sometimes I Don't. Sometimes I Have An Hour Count; Sometimes I'm Just Happy To String A Few Words Together. I Do Keep Pretty Rigorous Hours, Because Otherwise You Never Get Anything Done.