A. Unpublished writer, as opposed to published writer.
A. I always liked being a waitress.
A. I went to Holland Patent High School in upstate New York, and I went to Middlebury College in Vermont.
A. Too many! Brain exploding at very thought of selecting only one! Disengage! Disengage!
A. My Life as a Dog.
A. The Wire.
A. Reflective, searching, busy, full of wonder and love
A. Here's what I put in my high school yearbook, and I do believe it's what I'd still put today: Walk slowly; all you can ever come to is yourself.
A. Perfect happiness would be that first and only small cup of coffee, made with my camping drip filter into a mug I bought in Mexico (and which probably contains lead, something I prefer not to think about), into which I add a dollop of heavy whipping cream, and sitting in the dark in front of my Christmas tree conjuring the faces of the people I most love in the world. Since that describes my early morning today, I guess I was perfectly happy around 4:30 a.m. today.
A. That would be Doing A Headstand. Yep, I've been scared of that particular feat all my life, have never done one, and I've decided to come clean. So there you have it.
A. Right here, right now.
A. Batman, the only human superhero.
A. I admire my mother a whole bunch, and I always have.
A. "Thick white china mug."
A. Regrets are a waste of time. (That doesn't mean I don't have any.)
A. To fly, using just my arms. Fly, fly, fly! Sometimes, when I dream, I'm swooping up and over mountain after mountain. How I would love to do that for real.
A. My children and my deep, lifelong friendships
A. I have no flaws. I am a perfect human being. What, you don't believe me? C'mon.
A. I'm kind.
A. Honeys, I'm stuck with being me, and I wouldn't change that.
A. I can bend my hands up into strange, saucer-like formations. It's creepy.
A. The boy in My Side of the Mountain.
A. Max, the boy who wore his wolf suit.
A. Lying on the couch while my children bake me delicacies, clean the house, and write small songs of praise in my honor.
A. Kindness, integrity and humor.
A. Chinese dumplings, either pan-fried, boiled, or steamed.
A. Long-Limbed Girl, by Nick Lowe. Hey Ya, by Outkast. Amazing Grace. If You Want Me, by Marketa Irglova. Prelude in E Minor, Chopin. Johnny Cash's cover of The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. (That's six, you say? Hang on, I have 827 more to go.)
A. I cannot answer this question because my brain is so crowded with favorite authors that if I tried to write them all down my head would explode and then my desk would be even messier than it is now, not to mention that I would not be able to write any more books, so in my own self-interest I must decline.
A. Goodnight, Moon, by Margaret Wise Brown. The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien. Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The Day to Day Life of Albert Hastings, by Kaylyn Devaney. The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger.
A. Little House on the Prairie.
A. Enjoy. Please, please, please, have fun.
A. "You made me cry."
A. Late one night I stood in the doorway of my daughter's room, watching her sleep. And then I went down to the kitchen and sat at the table and wrote Someday in the form of a poem. Five years later, that original poem had re-shaped itself (okay, it was me who did the re-shaping) into a picture book.