The fact that people are already reading and loving something I wrote is still hard to believe.

The sensation reminds him of the first snow of winter, for those first few hours when everything is blanketed in white, soft and quiet.

“Nothing's impossible,” Poppet responds. She smiles at him and jumps, her red hair trailing out behind her as she falls.

And there are really never endings, happy or otherwise.

But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.

Widge can see the past." Poppet says suddenly. "That's why his stories are so good." "The past is easier," Widget says. "It's already there." "In the stars?" Bailey asks. "No." Widget says. "On people. The past stays on you the way powdered sugar stays on fingers. Some people can get rid of it but it's still there, the events and t hings that pushed you to where you are now.

Sometimes I write what I can't paint, and I paint what I can't write. I use a different part of the brain.