Suppose I lay down on the pavement and you run over me a few times with my own car...just for old times.

I don't want my readers slowed down by long passages of narrative.

Omygod, I haven’t got years. I’ll have to hide in the Bat Cave.” “Once you go to the Bat Cave it’s forever, babe.” Eeek.

Happens to me all the time...People are always underestimating my dumbness.

Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli. "No. Were discussing." "Are you sure?" "Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?" "No." "The were not fighting.

When I was painting, I was painting stories I was telling myself. When I look back at it, moving to writing was a very natural progression for me.

These are desparate times." - Stephanie Plum