Two years ago, my friend Michelle Spring tempted me to work with her on a book about the craft of writing. The pairing was unexpectedly effective, since we have such different methods, and with the addition of a number of superb guest essays, has made a book I am tremendously proud of. Take a look at the book, here.
I grew up with books, since we moved so often when I was young that making friends became far too much work compared to the easy companionship of a library. I was a dreamy child, immersed in the world of fiction that was both escape and education, and I can only wonder that it never occurred to me early on that I, too, could become a writer. I suppose I felt that the books on the library shelves must have been laid there by some divine hand, that mere mortals had nothing to do with them. Perhaps if I’d met an actual author as a child, I’d have begun writing a lot sooner.