I think there's something about a writer's disposition, that is, even if unaware, always slightly in a witness state.

As a writer we are our own instruments; we need to protect our instrument, because no one will protect it if we don't.

How do we live the writer's life? There's only one simple answer: 'we write.'

The truth is in the present moment.

I don't know why this is, but I really believe that things don't happen when we're trying to will them into being. They don't happen when we're waiting for the phone to ring, or the email to pop up in our in box. They don't happen when we're gripping too tightly. They happen - if they happen at all - when we've fully let go of the results. And, perhaps, when we're ready.

Let me tell you something about hypochondria: It's a pernicious, undermining little demon. It won't kill you, but it will sap the color from your life so that in the loveliest moments, the moments of grace, you are hit with that whisper in your ear that takes it all away. I'm sick, I'm dying - I just don't know it yet.

Our pain is a part of who we authentically are.