The Same Way That Some

I Get Some Of My Ideas From Watching My Three Daughters, But Most Of Them Come From My Own Memories Of Growing Up. I Can Remember How Romantic I Was, Not Just About Love, But Romance In The Classic Sense - The Romantic Ideals: Of Honor And Truth, Of Loyalty, Sacrifice And Fairness. Those Were The Elements That Made A Story Satisfying To Me.

Ella's Supersonic Voice Followed Her All The Way To Bleecker Street And Then Dissolved Amid The Noisy Profusion Of Shops, Cafes, And Restaurants And The Crush Of People That Made The West Village Of Manhattan Unique In The World. In A Single Block You Could Buy Fertility Statues From Tanzania, Rare Amazonian Orchids, A Pawned Brass Tuba, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, Or The Best, Most Expensive Cup Of Coffee You Ever Tasted. It Was The Doughnuts, Incidentally, That Attracted Gaia.

Roger Collins Wasn't The Most Popular Teacher At School Only Because He Was Interesting In Class. In Fact, Most Of The Girls Would Have Loved A Little After-class Attention From This Teacher.

But The Way I See It, Dying Without Knowing Love Would Be A Tragedy.

Ella Was Vapid And Worthless At Least Nine-tenths Of The Time, But When She Got Really Mad, Her Face Became Sharp And Purposeful. Almost Vicious. Like If Barbie Were Suddenly Possessed By Atilla The Hun.