He stepped into my room with one graceful move, as if entering through bedroom windows was nothing out of the ordinary.

People have bad things to say about publishers, but I think they still have services, and I want to see what they are. And if they end up not being any good, I don't have to keep using them.

It's not my fault everybody wants me

I looked at him like he was an idiot, but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he got it so often, he thought that was how people looked at him.

What I told you before is still true. I want to know that when you're with me, it's because you want to be, not because you have to be.

Self-publishing is great, but I don't want to be an icon for it, or anything else.

You have so much going on. It comes off like a..." "Static?" I suggested. "Exactly!" He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "You need to tune it, get your frequencies in check, like a radio." "I would love to.Just tell me how." "It's not a matter of turning a dial. You have no on or off switch." He walked around in a large lazy circle. "It's something you have to practice. It's more like being potty-trained. You have to learn when to hold it and when to release." "That's a pretty sexy analogy," I said.