I write because I love it, not because I excel at it.  But because I write, I shall slowly excel at it.

I write so others might contemplate things out of the ordinary. I write to make people feel—to cause laughter and tears, to cause anger at injustice. I write so the world will imagine and wonder at crazy, incredible truths. I write to have a tiny bit of influence on a universal conscience.

Only a writer would slap a bumper sticker on her car that read, 'Seriously, I'd rather be working'.

Sometimes when I prepare to write, I feel the same sensation wash over me as if my toes were curling over the brink of a high cliff, my gaze peering downward into a dark pond, and I anxiously wonder, will the water prove deep enough? Will my words be satisfactory?

Experience is the catalyst for all great stories.

I bleed words.
I dream in narrative.
I live in infinite worlds.
I befriend figmental characters.
I wish on stars in other galaxies.
I harvest stories from a brooding muse.
I bloom under moonlight in hushed seclusion.
I am a writer.