She'd assumed she'd be married and have kids by this age, that she would be grooming her own daughter for this, as her friends were doing. She wanted it so much she would dream about it sometimes, and then she would wake up with the skin at her wrists and neck red from the scratchy lace of the wedding gown she'd dreamed of wearing. But she'd never felt anything for the men she'd dated, nothing beyond her own desperation. And her desire to marry wasn't strong enough, would never be strong enough, to allow her to marry a man she didn't love.

But relying on one person for your every need is so dangerous. One set of hands isn't enough to keep you from falling.

Everything had felt so precarious since her mother's death, like she was walking on a bridge made of paper.

My writing process is very organic. I start with an idea. I have the general story arc and the cast. But then I sit down to write, and things change.

Magic is what we invent when we want something we think we cant have.

For stubborn souls like Lisette, death was easier than the courage it took to actually change your life.

When you're happy for yourself, it fills you. When you're happy for someone else, it pours over.