I don't want to be attached to you, either. I want to do some things you don't know about.

We came in this world together. So we're going out together.

When you get frustrated or upset and are dwelling on something that you can't do anything about anyway, you just go sit down and play a song. That directs your attention on the music and gets it off what's bothering you.

It's 2010. I'm forty-three years old. I've just turned in the final draft of what will be my third novel when I decide I want a tattoo. Maybe it's a middle-age thing. Or maybe now that my kids are nearly grown and I have a career in place, I'm finally coming into my own.

His life probably couldn't be any harder. He's on the lowest rung of anybody in the jail. He's constantly being victimized as a consequence of his conduct. You must be aware that certain prisoners endure the wrath of other prisoners, especially those that are involved in the deaths of children.

My father Bill had a problem with Christmas. Although he appears in old photographs to possess a whippy, muscular frame, he was actually a frail man and usually managed to cause some kind of drama just before the festivities began.