I used to love Barber. The universe itself rings out a perfect B-flat: 466.164. It’s in the hum of the refrigerator, the whine of the undercabinet lights. You took your violin, but I still hear its song echoing in these empty rooms.
Sometimes You Fly
The best thing about writing fiction is that moment where the story catches fire and comes to life on the page, and suddenly it all makes sense and you know what it’s about and why you’re doing it and what these people are saying and doing, and you get to feel like both the creator and the audience. Everything is suddenly both obvious and surprising (“but of course that’s why he was doing that, and that means that…”) and it’s magic and wonderful and strange.
You don’t live there always when you write. Mostly it’s a long hard walk. Sometimes it’s a trudge through fog and you’re scared you’ve lost your way and can’t remember why you set out in the first place.
But sometimes you fly, and that pays for everything.
-- Neil Gaiman
Search through the fog