All of a sudden it felt like people were peering over my shoulder, wondering what I would write next. I was blocked for four years.

The difference is that was then, this is now.

I advise writing to oneself. If you don't want to read it, nobody else is going to read it.

They grew up on the outside of society. They weren't looking for a fight. They were looking to belong.

I never base a character on someone I know. You can get ideas from real life, but every character you write is some aspect of yourself.

Suddenly it wasn't only a personal thing to me. I could picture hundreds and hundreds of boys living on the wrong sides of cities, boys with black eyes who jumped at their own shadows. Hundreds of boys who maybe watched sunsets and looked at stars and ached for something better. I could see boys going down under street lights because they were mean and tough and hated the world, and it was too late to tell them that there was still good in it, and they wouldn't believe you if you did.

... Hey, I didn't know you didn't like baloney." I went cold. "I don't like it. I never liked it." Soda just looked at me. "You used to eat it. That's why you wouldn't eat anything while you were sick. You kept saying you didn't like baloney, no matter what it was we were trying to get you to eat." "I don't like it," I repeated.