For the quintessential bookworm, fall is a time of cozy contemplation, of spicy, orange-colored teas and sweater tights and Oxford heels and lots and lots of books.
He was kind, loyal and protective of those he cared about. And I had become one of those he cared about.
My family has taught me how to fight for the right to create, how to make it the most important thing in your day and your life. They have shown me that there is no direct route and how to forge my own.
Because my family doesn’t just put up with my writing, as they were forced to do all those years ago in Asbury Park. They are an invaluable aid in finding the very best story, character or setting possible.
The truth is, my imagination is often bigger than my gut. I’d like to think that if I ever got dropped into a situation, I’d take a deep breath and agree to some really cool things, but there’s a lot I know I’ll never get the opportunity to do. And a lot I plan to do anyway.
Writing a book does not happen on the day of the release, but rather, over the course of so, so many hours and so many opportunities to give up. And I consider that my greatest accomplishment.
I got the ring bearer to the bathroom before his little tuxedo wasn’t so cute anymore.