I Left My Mark On That Man.

I Was The Girl He Had Chosen To Kiss. He Wanted, Somehow To Set Me Free. He Didn't Want To Burn My Photo Or Toss It Away, But He Didn't Want To Look At Me Anymore, Either.

I Think That If You're Somebody Who's A Control Freak, The Process Would Make You Crazy, But I'm Kind Of A Process Freak, So I'm Excited To See What He Does With It. I Know It's Not Going To Be My Book, So Just Starting With That Knowledge Frees Me From Having To Get All Freaked Out About It.

She Was Unaware That She Was Somewhat Of A Celebrity Up In Heaven. I Had Told People About Her, What She Did, How She Observed Moments Of Silence Up And Down The City And Wrote Small Individual Prayers In Her Journal, And The Story Had Travelled So Quickly That Women Lined Up To Know She Had Found Where They’d Been Killed. She Had Fans In Heaven..... Meanwhile, For Us, She Was Doing Important Work, Work That Most People On Earth Were Too Frightened Even Too Contemplate.

It's Hard, Because When You Talk About Process Or Your Characters Ruling Your Narrative, It Sounds Like You Have No Control, But Obviously You're Ultimately The Author, So You Do Have Control.

Like Snowflakes,' Franny Said,'none Of Them The Same And Yet Each One, From Where We Stand, Exactly Like The One Before