Amor Animi Arbitrio Sumitu, Non

Writing Is The Lonely Sport Of Sad Sacks.

It's More Like I Write Multiple First Drafts, Handwritten. So With My First Novel, I Wrote Whole Drafts From Different Points Of View. There Are Different Versions Of That Novel In A Drawer On Loose-leaf Sheets. I Won't Even Look At The First Draft While I'm Writing The Second, And I Won't Look At The Second Before Writing The Third.

And She, The New Mother Of A Daughter, Felt A Fierceness Come Over Her That Seized At Her Heart, That Made Her Feel As If Her Bones Were Turned To Steel, As If She Could Turn Herself Into A Weapon To Keep This Daughter Of Hers From Having To Be Hurt By The World Outside The Ring Of Her Arms.

When I Was Small And Easily Wounded Books Were My Carapace. If I Were Recalled To My Hurts In The Middle Of A Book They Somehow Mattered Less. My Corporeal Life Was Slight The Dazzling One In My Head Was What Really Mattered. Returning To Books Was Coming Home.

There Is Part Of Me That Longs To Have The Back-to-the-earth Life - Make My Own Bread, Grow My Own Wheat, Just Be Really Self-sufficient - But I Am Not, At The Moment, Willing To Give Up The Luxury Of Modern Life, And Amazing Schools For My Kids, And Things That I've Come To Rely On That Are Parts Of Society.