Okay -- I'm going to Harry Potter-geek out for a minute, but after watching the set of movies again this past weekend (let's not concern ourselves with how many times I have watched the series).

So Voldemort (look at me, so bravely saying his name) discovered he could stretch his soul and put parts of his soul in various objects with the idea that he could then never be killed. (Spoiler alert -- he was wrong.)

Now He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named (let's not tempt fate) had to kill people to stretch his soul. I have never killed anyone (well...fictionally I have, but that is an occupational hazard), but I still feel that I have holcruxes...I feel that every novel I have published, every draft I have written, ever story idea I have started, ever non-fiction project I have planned -- I feel that there is a bit of me in every one of these.

And when I'm gone from this world...my holcruxes -- my novels and projects, will live on forever. (Just no one stab any of my books...I do think that would kill me).