I journal for about half an hour, and by the time that's done, the business day on the East Coast has begun. The phone starts to ring, and the rest of the day is spent dealing with the business of writing. My workday is done at about 3:00.

I will be brave, thought Despereaux. I will try to be brave like a knight in shining armour. I will be brave for the Princess Pea.

The shapes arranged themselves into words, and the words spelled out a delicious and wonderful phrase: Once upon a time.

I have learned how to love. And it's a terrible thing. I'm broken. My heart is broken. Help me.

There's a notion of art in this country that you have to be nutty or special or "called" in order to be an artist. I believe the questions everyone should ask themselves are, "Do you want to do it? Are you willing to do it poorly? Are you willing to do the work of doing it? Are you willing to persist when everybody tells you it's silly?" If you're willing to do that, then you can do it.

There can be a lot of longevity in the repetition of things being told again and again in a variety of ways.

I hate to cook and love to eat.