Sometimes I dream so vividly, so expectantly, I wonder if I’m crazy…

New York is perfect. Just the way it is. In all its imperfection.

Nothing is louder than silence.

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.

Don’t fool yourself. Talking about writing is not the same as actually doing it.

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.

Days become weeks. Weeks become months. Month become years. And years become silence.

I do not recommend writing a screenplay in two weeks.

That moment you realize you are doing the right thing for the wrong reasons and the wrong thing for the right reasons.

Live inside your stories, yes, but do not hide behind them.

Don’t be afraid of what you’re creating.

Q: Best part about being a musical theatre book writer?A: Explaining what that is.

When a solid first draft of an original tale is complete…you feel as if you could do anything.

I wish my brain had an off switch. Maybe that way I could get some sleep.

Your writing should be filled with simple complexities and complex simplicities. Because that is life.

I am swimming in a sea of words, attempting to keep my head above water.

You know you’re officially an adult when you finally understand WHY Miss Hannigan was drinking bath water.

Give all that you can. No more. No less. Every. Single. Day.

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!

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!

Life baffles me most days. Maybe that’s why I write. To try and make sense of it all.

If I were to be honest, I’m probably fifty percent bagel. Okay, fine, sixty percent.

A writer writes. There are no exceptions to this reality. No excuses. Stop wasting time talking about your stories and get them on paper.

I want everyday magic.

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.

It’s hard to be a dreamer sometimes. I’m tired.

I mean. You put puppies in a store front, I will stop and giddily stare. Every. Single. Time.

Each night, I close my eyes and dream. In the morning, I open my eyes again, but the dreaming doesn’t stop.

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.

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.

I just slept for fifteen hours straight. Yes, writing a musical is THAT exhausting!

I have written until I fell asleep with my computer on my lap. That can’t be normal.

She meant to write: “Is Christy here yet?”Auto Correct turned it into: “Is crazy here yet?”For once Auto Correct got it right.

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.

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.

If I had a nickel for all the times I’ve been shushed in my life? Bam! Instant millionaire!

Because. Everything worth anything takes time.

The defining lines of reality have always been a bit blurred for me.

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.

If you think someone is humble, never tell them so. You will unknowingly rob them of the very thing you admire.

This life is full of signs, many of which find their way to you exactly when you need them most.

Walking the Camino de Santiago taught me the wonders of physical challenge, the wonders of spiritual freedom, and the wonders of baby powder.

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’m not gonna lie…sometimes this whole writing thing is a lonely business.

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.

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’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.

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

You are more ready and able to grasp at opportunity when your hands are empty.

I write because that is what I am supposed to do.