I think of every book as a single entity, and some have later gone on to become a series, often at the request of readers.

Genius disregards the boundaries of propriety. Genius is permitted to shout if shouting is productive.

Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?

What if they were allowed to choose their own mate? And chose wrong?

It's hard to give up the being together with someone.

It's a funny thing about names, how they become a part of someone.

Writing is hard work, and fun, and requires you to keep your backside in a chair when you would sometimes like to put it elsewhere. So the only wisdom is the advice to keep at it, I guess.