I never laugh or smile when I am writing. When I come home for lunch after writing all morning my wife says I look like I just came home from a funeral. This is not bragging. This is an illness.
I remember driving to North Carolina when I was a little girl in a snowstorm to get down to my mom's family in the Carolinas. There were chains on the car - it was the late sixties - and we were just singing in the car. Christmas carols.
