A. Fall seven times, stand up eight.
A. I would love to be in Venice, sipping a latte in a sun-warmed piazza.
A. I regret waiting so long, out of fear, to get serious as a writer.
A. I'm actually a bit superstitious about naming my greatest fear. Fortunately, I have many, many other fears to choose from. So let's just go with scorpions. Eek!
A. When I think of perfect happiness, I think of times when I am totally in the moment, completely engaged, not wanting to be or even think about a different time or place. Sometimes this happens when I’m writing, when the words are just flowing; I’m not really thinking, just taking it all down, living in that other world. When I was a kid, this would happen when I went wandering through the woods alone, or maybe playing the piano, or maybe dancing. Another ph occasion: holding my daughter in the rocking chair when she was a baby. She felt warm and heavy against me; her hair was silky; she smelled of milk. I could feel her breathing change as she slipped into a contented sleep. I flat-out knew in the deepest place that you can know things, that there was nothing in the world more important than what I was doing at that moment.