If The World Held Magic Powerful Enough

I Have Been Loved Said Edward To The Stars

Miracles And Magic Pervade The Things That I've Written, But Yet There Are No Miracles And There Is No Magic.

A Typical Day For Me Is I Get Up At 6:00, The Coffeemaker Goes On Automatically And The Computer Gets Turned On. I Pour A Cup Of Coffee, Listen To Garrison Keillor's The Writer's Almanac, And Then I Write.

We Were 15 Minutes Into It And Nothing Was Happening; I Thought, Well, That's Not Going To Work. Then All Of A Sudden Everything Clicked. I Don't Know How Long It Took Us, But I Would Just Show Up At Alison's [mcghee] Office. She Would Type And We'd Just Kick It Back And Forth. Writing Is So Scary For Me, Such A Lonely Endeavor, And It Became A Wonderful Thing To Show Up And Have Somebody Else Go Through It With Me. It Was Actually A Wonderful Experience.

There Are Those Hearts, Reader, That Never Mend Again Once They Are Broken. Or If They Do Mend, They Heal Themselves In A Crooked And Lopsided Way, As If Sewn Together By A Careless Craftsman. Such Was The Fate Of Chiaroscuro. His Heart Was Broken. Picking Up The Spoon And Placing It On His Head, Speaking Of Revenge, These Things Helped Him To Put His Heart Together Again. But It Was, Alas, Put Together Wrong.