She didn't see him at first. She was watching the dancers. Her color was high, and there were deep dimples at the corners of her mouth. She looked nine miles out of place, but he had never loved her more. This was Willa on the edge of a smile.
Stephen KingOnce I start work on a project, I donโt stop and I donโt slow down unless I absolutely have to. If I donโt write every day, the characters begin to stale off in my mind โ they begin to seem like characters instead of real people. The taleโs narrative cutting edge starts to rust and I begin to lose my hold on the storyโs plot and pace. Worst of all, the excitement of spinning something new begins to fade. The work starts to feel like work, and for most writers that is the smooch of death.
Stephen King