Indefinite Plans Get Dubious Results.

I Told All Kinds Of Stories About Going To Japan, About Playing Ball With My Father... I Wanted To Record My Life In Case It Was Going To End Soon. So, I Wrote That And It Was Very Comforting To Have That Practice In The Afternoons In My Living Room. I Just Wrote About My Life.

As Writers We Live Life Twice, Like A Cow That Eats Its Food Once And Then Regurgitates It To Chew And Digest It Again. We Have A Second Chance At Biting Into Our Experience And Examining It. ...this Is Our Life And It's Not Going To Last Forever. There Isn't Time To Talk About Someday Writing That Short Story Or Poem Or Novel. Slow Down Now, Touch What Is Around You, And Out Of Care And Compassion For Each Moment And Detail, Put Pen To Paper And Begin To Write.

Play Around. Dive Into Absurdity And Write. Take Chances. You Will Succeed If You Are Fearless Of Failure.

The Odd Thing Is, That I Wrote The Great Spring While I Had Cancer And It's Not About Cancer. It Was After I Was Done With Cancer That I Wrote A Book About It.

I Write Because I Am Alone And Move Through The World Alone. No One Will Know What Has Passed Through Me... I Write Because There Are Stories That People Have Forgotten To Tell, Because I Am A Woman Trying To Stand Up In My Life... I Write Out Of Hurt And How To Make Hurt Okay; How To Make Myself Strong And Come Home, And It May Be The Only Real Home I'll Ever Have.