I Need To Write, And I Can't

I Think We Sent Tony Fucile Pictures Of Ourselves, Photos From Like When We Were Seven Years Old. That's What He Worked From. He Captured Exactly What We Looked Like. I'd Love To Do Another One With Alison, Not Just For The Joy Of Writing, But Also For The Joy Of Watching Tony Bring It To Life With His Illustrations. I'm Hoping At Bea, Or Ala, I'll Get To Meet Tony And Shake His Hand And Thank Him.

There Are Hearts, Reader, That Never Mend Again Once They Are Broken. Or If They Do Mend, They Heal Themselves In A Crooked And Lopsided Way, As If Sewn Together By A Careless Craftsman.

Besides, Who Ever Asked You What You Wanted In This World, Girl? The Answer To That Question, Reader, As You Well Know, Was Absolutely No One.

When We Read Together, We Connect. Together, We See The World. Together, We See One Another.

The Miraculous Journey Of Edward Tulane Began With A Friend Giving Me A Rabbit Doll - Forgive Me, Edward, For Using That Word; He Doesn't Like "doll" - For Christmas. I Said, "oh, He's Lovely, What's His Name?" And She Said, "edward." And A Few Days After I Received The Rabbit, Who Was Dressed Very Handsomely In Edwardian Kind Of Clothes, I Saw Him Stripped Of His Finery And Face Down On The Bottom Of The Ocean Floor. Why? I Don't Know. But That's Where His Story Began In My Head.