Kids ask me all the time if I wanted to be a writer when I was growing up.
Here’s the truth: it never occurred to me that I could be a writer.
To me books were so spectacular—so out of this world, so grand–that I thought: how could an ordinary human being make something that magical?
Now, of course, I know that the reverse is true.
Writing a book has everything to do with being an ordinary human being.
All that love and wonder and hurt–all that anger and despair and joy–all those questions and doubts and jealousies that make us human–they are what make stories good, too.
The more human you are, the more stories you have to tell.
And that’s the good news for today.

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