But on paper, things can live forever. On paper, a butterfly never dies.

How amazing these words are that slowly come to me. How wonderfully on and on they go.Will the words end, I askwhenever I remember to.Nope, my sister says, all of five years oldnow,and promising meinfinity.

I am not gifted. When I read, the words twisttwirl across the page.When they settle, it is too late.The class has already moved on.I want to catch words one day. I want to hold themthen blow gently,watch them floatright out of my hands.

Yes, writing is not easy. But can any writer imagine NOT writing?

I loved and still love watching words flower into sentences and sentences blossom into stories.

Because I write realistic fiction, I generally don't think about fixing anyone - I just think about how I want to feel at the end of the book - And I try to write toward that feeling.

Sometimes, I don't know that words for things, how to write down the feeling of knowing that every dying person leaves something behind.

Mainly, I try not to think about my readers as I write - I just think of my characters and myself - If they're interesting to me, my hope is that they'll be interesting to others as well.