Chana Keefer

“Down with tyranny!' Bramble cried. 'Aristocracy! Autocracy! Monocracy! Other ocracy things! You are outnumbered, sir! Surrender!”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."

The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful.

"Oh," he said.

"Mr. Bradford?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"

The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked.

"If you want.”
― Heather Dixon, Entwined

“There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement kind of guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you. Do you think it’s fair? I think it’s fair. He may not be much to look at, that muse-guy, and he may not be much of a conversationalist, but he’s got inspiration. It’s right that you should do all the work and burn all the mid-night oil, because the guy with the cigar and the little wings has got a bag of magic. There’s stuff in there that can change your life. Believe me, I know.”
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

“Today, my body reminds me time doesn’t stand still. I wince as I shift on the hard floor where I was once able to relax for hours while Petra’s lithe form reclines with ease. Even in these humble surroundings she moves with the grace of an African princess. Small wonder her father and I have been approached several times to allow her to model.”
― Chana Keefer, One Night With a Rock Star