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By AnonymNancy Springer
Conform, go crazy, or become an artist.
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By AnonymNancy Springer
Confound my genteel upbringing! I could not think of any name foul enough to call him.
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By AnonymNancy Springer
I hope that the kind reader recognises this as a despairing attempt at humour.
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By AnonymNancy Springer
All the words I had prepared turned coward and fled my mind like conscripts deserting a battlefield.
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By AnonymNancy Springer
To be a man, apparently, was to lack the ability to be a woman
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By AnonymNancy Springer
Writing fiction has always, for me, been an alchemy of turning pain into poetry, ugliness into beauty. It has been a kind of redemption.
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