You are a real find and you keep me satisfied, up to a point. After all, I'm a malcontent and you can't change that.

At its best, fiction is not a diversion but a means of knowing the world.

Needing something is not the same thing as being interested in the thing itself.

In February, the overcast sky isn’t gloomy so much as neutral and vague. It’s a significant factor in the common experience of depression among the locals. The snow crunches under your boots and clings to your trousers, to the cuffs, and once you’re inside, the snow clings to you psyche, and eventually you have to go to the doctor. The past soaks into you in this weather because the present is missing almost entirely.

Before, I was always trying to make my relationships work by means of willpower and forced affability. This time I didn't have to strive for anything. A quality of ease spread over us.

As the poet says, all happy couples are alike, it's the unhappy ones who create the stories. I'm no longer a story. Happiness has made me fade into real life.

Try to get your characters into interesting trouble. Allow your characters to misbehave. Let them stay out after 11.