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All you really have... is now.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Really

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The road to publication is like a churro - long and bumpy, but sweet.
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I needed a break... from myself.
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A week went by and nothing. But eventually, as they always will, the rumors reached me. And everyone knows you can't disprove a rumor.
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What you don't understand, you can make mean anything.
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I take a slow sip of lukewarm coffee, reopen the book, and read the words scribbled in red ink near the top: Everyone needs an olly-olly-oxen-free.
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A lot of you cared, just not enough.
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Actually, I love trying to figure out why certain books become hits while others, which may be just as good, have trouble finding an audience.
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It was love because it was worth it.
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Because it may seem like a small role now, but it matters. In the end, everything matters.
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She wants to believe my excuses so bad. Every time I lie, she wants to believe me so much.
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Could be my soul mate / two kindred spirits / Maybe we're not / I guess we'll never / know
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Maybe it's not as important to you as it was for me, but that's not for you to decide.
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Do you remember the last thing you said to me? The last thing you did to me? And what was the last thing I said to you? Because trust me when I said it I knew it was the last thing I’d ever say.
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Yes, it feels great to plan your life when you believe everything can turn out fine. But what about when you're shown, again and again, how little control you have over anything? No matter what I do to try to fix my future, it doesn't work.
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You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have is...now.
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My breathing begins to slow. The tension in my muscles starts to relax. Then, a click in the headphones. A slow breath of air. I open my eyes to bright moonlight. And Hannah, with warmth. Thank you.
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Because I've heard so many stories that I don't know which one is the most popular. But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.
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That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.
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I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.
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But they were wrong. There was a reason.
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