It’s okay to fail. It does not make you forever a failure. In fact, there are no failures really. Only human beings doing the best they can.
I wish my brain had an off switch. Maybe that way I could get some sleep.
When I am alone, I drink my tea with pinkie raised, like a kid playing “tea party.” At times, a fancy British accent is involved. Dahling!
If you think someone is humble, never tell them so. You will unknowingly rob them of the very thing you admire.
Every day in New York City is a test. Work hard and pass this test, you get a chocolate cookie. From a strange man on the subway. A man without pants.
Occupation: WriterOccupational Hazard: Carpel tunnelSolution: Wrist guards to bed or my hands do all the sleeping Perspective: I’ve decided my wrist guards have turned me into a Ninja Superhero that hides in the shadows
Walking the Camino de Santiago taught me the wonders of physical challenge, the wonders of spiritual freedom, and the wonders of baby powder.
The night before a deadline, I usually am in desperate need of a back rub. And new wrists. And candy. And little mice to secretly finish the job while I am sleeping.
If I had a nickel for all the times I’ve been shushed in my life? Bam! Instant millionaire!
Each night, I close my eyes and dream. In the morning, I open my eyes again, but the dreaming doesn’t stop.
Sometimes I dream so vividly, so expectantly, I wonder if I’m crazy…
I know it’s difficult in the beginning. But, listen. If you have the impulse to write, do yourself a favor, do the world a favor, and write.
No.’It’s not a bad word. And it is very important to use at times. Practice saying it in the mirror. It’s empowering.
I am swimming in a sea of words, attempting to keep my head above water.
Life baffles me most days. Maybe that’s why I write. To try and make sense of it all.
I have written until I fell asleep with my computer on my lap. That can’t be normal.
The defining lines of reality have always been a bit blurred for me.
I’m not gonna lie…sometimes this whole writing thing is a lonely business.
Most days, writing simply requires work-ethic, discipline, clarity, focus, time. Other days…it will demand absolutely everything of you.
That moment you realize you are doing the right thing for the wrong reasons and the wrong thing for the right reasons.
I do not recommend writing a screenplay in two weeks.
When a solid first draft of an original tale is complete…you feel as if you could do anything.
Give all that you can. No more. No less. Every. Single. Day.
A writer writes. There are no exceptions to this reality. No excuses. Stop wasting time talking about your stories and get them on paper.
As you near a finish line, do not slow down. Instead, run faster. Give all you have left until it is done. It is then that you may collapse.
What you really want is all too often hidden just behind what you think you want.
Let life be the foundation. Be brave. Wander deep inside yourself to the little room no one knows about. Fling the door wide open and write.
This life is full of signs, many of which find their way to you exactly when you need them most.
Nothing makes you feel smaller than New York City…
I’ve never been high. Writing is my drug of choice. You don’t ever have to come down from that kind of high, I tell ya. And, best part is, it’s free.
My stories are my children. Some are sweet infants that I coddle and care for. Others are old enough now, they need to damn well get a job!
A writing day is like any other day. Except I live in my pajamas, I forget to eat, and I suddenly look up, wondering when day turned into night.
I just slept for fifteen hours straight. Yes, writing a musical is THAT exhausting!
You are more ready and able to grasp at opportunity when your hands are empty.
Lost in New York City. Not that I don’t know where I am, but rather perplexed as to where I am going.
New York is perfect. Just the way it is. In all its imperfection.
Live inside your stories, yes, but do not hide behind them.
Your writing should be filled with simple complexities and complex simplicities. Because that is life.
You know you are a writer when characters inside your brain keep demanding, ‘This is my story! Now tell it or I will never leave you alone!
I’m turning into an old man. I own four pairs of oxfords, my stories get a little long winded, and my neighbors play their music too loud.
She meant to write: “Is Christy here yet?”Auto Correct turned it into: “Is crazy here yet?”For once Auto Correct got it right.
I mean. You put puppies in a store front, I will stop and giddily stare. Every. Single. Time.
You know you’re officially an adult when you finally understand WHY Miss Hannigan was drinking bath water.
Q: Best part about being a musical theatre book writer?A: Explaining what that is.
If I were to be honest, I’m probably fifty percent bagel. Okay, fine, sixty percent.
Don’t fool yourself. Talking about writing is not the same as actually doing it.
Growing up, I used to climb out my window onto the roof and look up at the stars. There, in the quiet, I would write stories inside my head.
Souls are more important than stories, yes. But stories are a window to the soul. Without stories, the soul suffocates.
A watched pot never boils.” It’s the same with success. So? Throw that burner on HIGH and just keep on cooking. Dinner will be ready soon.
I look out over my life and see a million question marks with only a few definitive exclamation points. I’m living for the next exclamation.
Days become weeks. Weeks become months. Month become years. And years become silence.
I close my eyes and think of what might be possible. And, in my mind, I see fireworks over the Hudson.
That moment when a knot forms in your throat, but you choose to throw your head back and laugh instead.
Be what you are, all that you are. Wear yourself proudly. It will require that you draw a line, but that line in the sand is your courage.
Airport bars are more like film sets, the bathrooms reminiscent of dormitories. Everyone is waiting to go somewhere, suspended in nowhere…