Which tent is your favourite?" he asks. "The Ice Garden," Celia answers, without even pausing to consider. "Why is that?" Marco asks. "Because of the way it feels," she says. "It's like walking into a dream. As though it is someplace else entirely and not simply another tent.

I don't always write in order, so composing multi-book stories could get complicated.

How are you managing to keep everyone from aging?” Celia asks after a while. “Very carefully,” Marco answers.

I paint very messy. I throw paint around. So when I let myself do the same sort of thing with my writing, and I would just write and write and write and revise, that's when I found my rhythm in writing.

The past stays on you the way powdered sugar stays on your fingers. Some people can get rid of it but it’s still there, the events and things that pushed you to where you are now.

Even the air feels different on Halloween, autumn-crisp and bright.

Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.