“I’m an open book—an open book I’m still writing and editing. My book is a romance novel, sort of like The Secret.”

“I’m writing a book, one letter at a time. After thirteen days, I just finished writing “Once upon a time.” Since it’s a fairy tale, it’s obviously a romance novel, along the lines of “All Quiet on the Western Front.”

“The Book of Us. I’m writing it. And you’re in it.”

“Hooray! I finally finished making a new book cover. Now I just need to write the book. The cover is the image of a man hanging, so perhaps I’ll write a romance novel.”

“My new book is going well. It’s practically writing itself! Actually, what I mean is I’m not writing it, my clone is.”

“I’m working hard to edit my book, so I can get it up for sale so that nobody can rush out and buy it. Hurry and purchase! You don’t want to be the first one to not be the first one.”

“On my list of things to be when I grew up was a character in a Gary Larson comic. With one of his books in my hands, I would spend hours and hours laughing. And then I’d finally stop laughing long enough to actually open the book. I’m not sure what the younger me would think about me if he could see me now. To be honest, I’m not sure he’d be terribly impressed. He’d probably put his hands on his hips and hump his dismay.”