As a child, I disliked books in which children learned to be 'better' children.

I don't necessarily start with the beginning of the book. I just start with the part of the story that's most vivid in my imagination and work forward and backward from there.

He was dressed as if everything he wore had come from different stores or from a rummage sale, except that the crease in his trousers was sharp and his shoes were shined.

I write in longhand on yellow legal pads.

I wanted to be a ballerina. I changed my mind.

The humiliation that Jane had felt turned to something else--grief perhaps, or regret. Regret that she had not known how to act with a boy, regret that she had not been wiser.

If she can't spell, why is she a librarian? Librarians should know how to spell.