So It Just Wasn't In My House.

My Dad Is A Retired Shakespeare Professor, My Mother A Retired Classicist. Suffice To Say I Grew Up In A House Full Of Books, Where Reading Was Encouraged If Not Required.

Usually When I Finish The Draft Of A Book, I'm Sure I'll Never Write Another One. I'm Just That Tired And Sick Of Myself. But Then Another Idea Starts Percolating. It Usually Begins With The Narrator's Name, Then Some Idea That Intrigues Me About Her Life Or Situation. I Try To Ignore It As Long As I Can, Because I Know When I Start Writing, I'll Be Right Back Into It, Every Single Day. But Eventually, I Just Have To. It's A Compulsion!

You Knew The Truth All Along, Colie. That's All Matters. You Knew.

In Those First Few Hours Officially Single Again The World Seems Like It Expands, Suddenly Bigger And More Vast Now That You Have To Get Through It Alone.

People Get Mad Annabel. Its Not The End Of The World.