Books come from within.

I like small, domestic stories.

Everyone has something interesting to say.

He couldn’t help but give in to the occasional temptation to replay past events in his mind, altering them, changing them from cruel to comfortable, from sad to happy, from unfair to accommodating. Anything was possible in his imagination. Any ending. If only thinking it could make it so.

Sometimes I think as adults we think of them as – because they’re small in size that they’re small in all ways – and they’re not. They have big feelings, and they have big eyes, they see things, they hear things, they’re living life just the way an adult does and I think sometimes as adults we forget that.

But this was the first time someone he loved would be gone forever. He didn’t like to think about the forever part. But when he did, which was often, the only place he wanted to be was home.

When I’m looking for an idea, I’ll do anything – clean the closet, mow the lawn, work in the garden.

The glittery feeling. She’d named it because it felt to her as if her skin and everything beneath it briefly became shiny and jumpy and bubbly, as if glitter materialized inside her, then rose quickly through the layers of tissue that comprised her, momentarily sparkling all over the surface of her skin before dissipating into the air. Martha.

Didn’t it make sense that after something horrible happens, something better should follow?

Try drawing or painting a scene you’re working on. Often this will help free up you imagination.