Mona knocked at the wrong time. “Uh…yeah…wait a minute, Mona -- ” Mona shouted through the door. “Room service, gentlemen. Just pull the covers up.” Michael grinned at Jon. “My roommate. Brace yourself.” Seconds later, Mona burst through the doorway with a tray of coffee and croissants. “Hi! I’m Nancy Drew! You must be the Hardy Boys!

I tend to prefer the shelter of fiction.

Don't listen when they scoff That you are too old and I am young, For I am old enough to know better And you are young enough not to care.

The world changes in direct proportion to the number of people willing to be honest about their lives.

I think many writers write because it's a convenient way to explain themselves to themselves. We take the chaos and the turmoil and the bullshit of our lives, and we make it into something that has a harmonious shape and sound.

Outing is a nasty word for telling the truth.

But it's amazing how many people think that gay men should slink off into the shadows when it comes to having friendships with children.