Some stories stayed with you even when you wanted to forget them.

It was the sort of beauty you feel so deeply it becomes contagious and somehow makes you feel beautiful too.

I wasn't good company, that was true, and people avoided me, but that was all right. I was too busy dreaming.

I think love is a huge factor in fiction and in real life. Is there a risk? Always. In fiction and in life

Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it was a mistake for people like us to be tied to a place. If we weren't meant to be ready and willing to wander. If everything we needed was contained in who we were. And what we remember.

What else is there to write about than love and loss?

I wrote to find beauty and purpose, to know that love is possible and lasting and real.... Once I got to my desk, once I started writing, I still believed anything was possible.