I Am Clumsy, A Late

I Think I Know What It's Like To Have A Family That The Outside World Sees As Peculiar Or Lacking.

I've Been In A Long And Happy Relationship For 22 Years And It's Never Inspired Me To Write Anything. It's Too Good - Nothing To Say. Problems, Conflict, That's What Makes For Good Stories.

I Found Motherhood A Crash Course In Existentialism (what Is My Purpose In Life, Am I Mistress Or Slave Of My Destiny, When The Hell Do I Get Some Sleep?) And [the Book] Room Was The Result.

The Sound Of The Pages Turning Was The Sound Of Magic. The Dry Liquid Feel Of Paper Under Fingertips Was What Magic Felt Like.

So Much As I Enjoy Big Novels Of Epic Sweep, I Often Find, Say, If They Follow Several Generations, By The Third Generation, I'm Not Caring About The People Anymore.