Her Hatred Glittered Irresistibly. I

The Decor Bowled Me Over. Everywhere I Looked, There Was Something More To See. Botanical Prints, A Cross Section Of Pomegranates, A Passionflower Vine And Its Fruit. Stacks Of Thick Books On Art And Design And A Collection Of Glass Paperweights Filled The Coffee Table. It Was Enormously Beautiful, A Sensibility I'd Never Encountered Anywhere, A Relaxed Luxury. I Could Feel My Mother's Contemptuous Gaze Falling On The Cluttered Surfaces, But I Was Tired Of Three White Flowers In A Glass Vase. There Was More To Life Than That.

A Cliche Is Everything You've Ever Heard Of.

What Was Beauty Unless You Intended To Use It, Like A Hammer, Or A Key? It Was Just Something For Other People To Use And Admire, Or Envy, Despise. To Nail Their Dreams Onto Like A Picture Hanger On A Blank Wall. And So Many Girls Saying, Use Me, Dream Me.

It's Such A Liability To Love Another Person.

Your Protagonist Is Your Reader’s Portal Into The Story. The More Observant He Or She Can Be, The More Vivid Will Be The World You’re Creating. They Don’t Have To Be Super-educated, They Just Have To Be Mentally Active. Keep Them Looking, Thinking, Wondering, Remembering.