I write everything as a wake-up call to myself and others, to anyone who may have gotten tired of hitting the snooze button.

Needless to say, there was no one around remotely fitting the description of a normal person: I was at a writing conference.

I liked those ladies! They were helpers, and they danced.' These are the words I want on my gravestone: that I was a helper, and that I danced.

For me, Jesus is my cleft in the rock. He is my safest friend, my safe totally loving accepting big brother.

Very few writers really know what they are doing until they have done it.

Clutter and mess show us that life is being lived...Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation... Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist's true friend. What people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here.

Here are the two best prayers I know: 'Help me, help me, help me' and 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.