Isn't it funny how the people least impacted by tragedy are the most eager to move on?
There's nothing particularly dark in my past... I live in the light. My disposition is basically happy. I have a good life.
Today something interesting happened. I died.
It's strange how memory gets twisted and pulled like taffy in its retelling, how a single event can mean something different to everyone present.
anyone who used the word hip probably wasn't.
I definitely feel that plot flows from character. I dont believe that you can construct a plot and insert people into it.