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Editing is hard but nowhere NEAR as tough as facing that blank page and blinking cursor each day. You're all alone and no one else can do it. At least with editing you have someone in the trench with you.

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Least
Editing
Alone
Facing
Else
Blank
Someone
Nowhere
Hard
Page
Near
Trench
Pages
Blinking
Tough
Trenches

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It wasn’t so much that I was positive. I just wasn’t fully subscribing to such a negative way of thinking anymore.
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Then what are you like, Annabel? he shot back. A liar, like you told me that first day? Come on. That was the biggest lie of all.
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Sometimes. It was a good escape. Until, you know, it wasn‟t.
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As if he was beating me to the punch, his words living forever, while I was left speechless, no rebuttal, no words left to say.
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If someone is really close with you, your getting upset or them getting upset is okay, and they don't change because of it. It's just part of the relationship. It happens. You deal with it.
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Love can make up for a lot.
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What were you two talking about? she whispered as Wes pulls the door shut. Nothing, I said. Running. You should have seen your face, she said, her breath hot in my ear. Sa-woooon.
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Maybe we were all destined to just keep doing the same stupid things, over and over again, never really learning a single thing.
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Because the truth sometimes hurts, I said. Yeah, he said. So do lies, though.
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You know, I think I knew you for about three weeks before I ever really saw you smile. And then one day, Morgan said something and you laughed, and I remember thinking it was really cool because it meant something. You're not the kind of person who smiles for nothing, Colie. I have to earn every one.
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I'd been running for years: there was nothing scarier, to me, than to just be still with someone. And yet, there on that dark road, going home, I was.
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Growing up means :propelling yourself forward into whatever lies ahead, one turn of the wheel at a time.
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She fell, she hurt, she felt. She lived. And for all the tumble of her experiences, she still had hope. Maybe this next time would do the trick. Or maybe not. But unless you stepped into the game, you would never know.
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How it felt to have the world moving beneath me, a hand gripping mine, knowing if I fell, at least I wouldn't do it alone.
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It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.
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So I just decided to relax into it, bumpy and crazy as it might be, and try for once to just go along for the ride.
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I think I'm way too much of a control freak to co-author anything with anyone. I have a hard enough time writing with myself! I admire people that can do it, but it's not for me.
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It hadn't even occured to me that somebody would believe mine.
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I'd been through so much, falling short again and again, and only recently had found a place where who I was, right now, was enough.
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The lizard stared up at us, and we stared back, taking each other in. He was little and defenseless, I felt sorry for him already. This was a screwed-up place he'd just come into. But he didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway. There in that room, where it was hot and cramped, the world probably still seemed small enough to manage.
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