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BLOG: Come September

When I was growing up, summers were times to run barefoot, play kickball and our version of baseball, camp, ride bikes, read books, explore the weedy, woody places where no one had yet built a house or...

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BLOG: Thinking with our Hands

Once, when I was completely stuck on a manuscript that was collapsing under its own cumulative weight an editor said, “Maybe this story wants to be a manipulative book.” She was suggesting an interactive picture book, one with, say, flaps to lift or pop-ups or...

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BLOG: Report from the Desktop #1

I love words.  I love the way they sound, the way they roll together in rhythms gentle or jaunty, the way they reach across silence and connect us. (When I was small I decided to make up my own language with my own invented words, but  because I couldn’t remember what...

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