You Know You're Screwed When A Western

When My Husband First Read A Draft, He Said, "you Spend Too Much Time Describing The Characters' Outfits." He Was Right. I Removed Much Of The Clothes Talk, But Quite A Bit Remained.

I Surround Myself With Women Who Inspire Me To Be More Ambitious, And Who Constantly Astonish Me With Their Magnetism, Style, And Smarts.

We're Not Saints, Any Of Us. Maybe Somebody Is, But I Don't Know Those People. But We All Know People Who Behave Very Smugly And Are Very Egotistical And Put You Down As A Manner Of Improving Their Own Place In The World Or Improving Their Own Place In The World.

If, At Some Future Point, My Face Collapses Around My Eyes, I'd Probably Do Something About It. My Eyes Are Where I Live, And If People Couldn't See Them, No One Would Know Me.

I Have A Daughter Who, When Younger, Possessed No Barrier Between Her Emotional Self And The Outside World. Her Emotional Insides Spilled Out All Over, And, Especially When I Was Sleep-deprived And Probably A Little Paranoid, This Really Threatened Me. It Was As If She Were Embodying And Expressing The Insecurities And Freaked-outedness I Never Express, And Which I've Learned Over The Years To Keep Hidden.