October 2, 2009
"Why do you write children's books?" she asks, curious; we're interrupted before I can answer. Well, why do I? Did I ever made a conscious choice? Maybe, because of my dysfunctional home life, I never had the chance to be a child--so the child in me is still awake, wistful--"Let me out!" Or because Rachel, a red-haired gawky character I imagined in my first story-writing days of childhood, appeared again, this time chubby and being bullied--but befriended by a kind pair of cousins from an eccentric family, the aunt a health food nut, the grandma a cookie-holic?