I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.
Gorillas are in danger of being wiped out by the Ebola virus. I feel like we have limited time to get to know them and understand them and they're going to disappear - that's terrifically sad. Wouldn't it be great if we could stop that?
I just think I'm better equipped to make a study of human personality than trying to get into the mind of animals.
It seems natural to surround my fictional world with animals because my reality is full of them. When I'm sitting there conceiving a story, they just pop up.
After sixty-one years together, she simply clutched my hand and exhaled.