I consider myself foremost a novelist with the intent of crafting stories that people will remember.

I hadn't done any of the things that I normally did with girls, yet somehow I'd fallen in love.

Throughout it all, I loved her as much as I always had, and I found myself aching for those simpler times of the past. I knew what was happening, of course. As we were drifting apart, I was becoming more desperate to save what we once had shared; like a vicious circle, however, my desperation made us drift apart even further.

In another place, in another time, she would have felt the majesty of the beauty around her, but as she stood on the beach, she realized that she didn't feel anything at all. In a way, she felt as if she weren't really here, as if the whole thing was nothing but a dream.

Don't take my advice. Or anyone's advice. Trust yourself. For good or for bad, happy or unhappy, it's your life, and what you do with it has always been entirely up to you.

write what readers want to read, which isn’t necessarily what you want to write.

Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can.