Christy Hall

Airport bars are more like film sets, the bathrooms reminiscent of dormitories. Everyone is waiting to go somewhere, suspended in nowhere...

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

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.

A watched pot never boils." It's the same with success. So? Throw that burner on HIGH and just keep on cooking. Dinner will be ready soon.

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.

Souls are more important than stories, yes. But stories are a window to the soul. Without stories, the soul suffocates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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.