If You Have A Body, You Are

You Keep Working On Your Piece Over And Over, Trying To Get The Sections And Paragraphs And Sentences And The Whole Just Right, But There's A Point At Which You Can Tell You've Begun Hurting The Work With Your Perfectionism. Then You Have To Release The Work To New Eyes.

My Idea Of Absolute Happiness Is To Be In Bed On A Rainy Day, With My Blankie, My Cat, And My Dog.

If The Present Is Really All We Have, Then The Present Lasts Forever.

Everybody Thinks Their Opinion Is The Right One. If They Didn't, They Would Get A New One.

Everything Takes Me Forever. It's All Lurch, Flail. I Hope That Is Good News To You Writers.