Martin Wilson's What They Always Tell Us hears the voices of the young as they struggle toward adulthood.

I read because one of these days I'm going to get out of this town, and I'm going to go everywhere and meet everybody, and I want to be ready

That meant I could come back whenever I could manage it. And she was telling me to go. She knew the decision was too big a load for me to carry by myself. She knew me through and through. She had eyes in the back of her heart.

Writing is communication, not self-expression. Nobody in this world wants to read your diary except your mother.

This is how you hold onto your family. You hold them with open hands so they are free to find futures of their own. It's just that simple.

We don't write what we know. We write what we wonder about.

Grandma, how old is she?" "Oh I don't know." Grandma said. "You'd have to cut off her head and count the rings in her neck.