Writing A Novel Is Like Childbirth: Once

“in Truth,” I Said, “there Are No Rules Other Than You Have To Tell The Truth.” “how Do You Win?” He Asked. “that,” I Said, “is Such A Boy Question.

I Paused, Only Just Now Realizing That The Subject Was Hitting A Little Close To Home. "you Know, Getting Hurt. Putting Herself Out There, Opening Up To Someone." Yeah," He Said Adding Some Cheese Straws To The Cart, "but Risk Is Just Part Of Relationships. Sometimes They Work, Sometimes They Don't." I Picked Up A Box Of Cheese Straws, Examining It. "yeah," I Said. "but It's Not All About Chance, Either.

I Have So Many Books I Didn't Sell. Some My Agent Rejected Outright, Others Made It All The Way To My Editor To Be Turned Away. Not Everything Is A Winner, Which Is Tough When You've Devoted Eight Or Nine Months Of Your Life To Something.

'so,' He Said As We Turned Onto The Main Road, The Muffler Rattling, 'i've Been Thinking.' 'yeah?' He Nodded. 'you Really Need To Go Out With Me.' I Blinked. 'i'm Sorry?' 'you Know. You, Me. A Restaurant Or Movie. Together.' He Glanced Over, Shifting Gears. 'maybe It's A New Concept For You? If So, I'll Be Happy To Walk You Through It.' 'you Want To Take Me To A Movie?' I Asked. 'well, Not Really,' He Said. 'what I Really Want Is For You To Be My Girlfriend. But I Though Saying That Might Scare You Off.'

But When You're Alone In The World, Really Alone, You Have No Choice But To Be Open To Suggestions.