I listened to the wind bury winter; and when I tasted his grace, his grace had no name; only, night became something else in his presence, as though darkness had a soul, here, swaying to heartbeats roaring.

In real life, I knew that fandom was made up of women, and women of color, and women of all ages. But on the publishing side of comics, it was a lot of white, straight men. It was often jarring to me to be the only women at a meeting or at a panel at a comic-con. Fortunately I had mentors who were not blinded by my gender and who said, "Yes, we know you can write these books." That hasn't been the case for everyone. What gives me great hope is that in the eight to nine years since I've started, I've seen tremendous growth.

I am vulnerable, starved for kindness. And when I receive it, I lose my mind.

I've seen a tremendous shift especially in indie comics. I see all these young women who are out there creating. They're making these great web comics. Their graphic novels are getting published. They're making all this wonderful art. They're powerful. There's this vital energy about it that's really, really beautiful that years ago I knew existed but I didn't see so clearly.

I've got a black-belt in crazy, and I know where you live.

Moscow was, as some said, the most beautiful mistress a man could ever want, but never cross her: like any good woman, she might just cut off your balls for the hell of it.

He was a hot, hot former priest and she wanted to pull a Thorn Birds on his ass.