She kept watching the words.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

Competence was attractive.

Things always seem to glide away. They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.

It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.

Crowds of questions stream through me like lines of people exiting a soccer ground or a concert. They push and shove and trip. Some make their way around. Some remain in their seats, waiting for their opportunity.

It's insane to be a writer and not be a reader. When I'm writing I'm more likely to be reading four or five books at once, just in bits and pieces rather than subjecting myself to a really brilliant book and thinking, "Well what's the point of me writing anything?" I'm more likely to read a book through when I take a break from writing.