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...

I am not my sister. Words from the books curl around each othermake little senseuntilI read them againand again, the storysettling into memory. Too slow my teacher says.Read Faster. Too babyish, the teacher says.Read older.But...

My mother has a gap betweenher two front teeth. So does Daddy Gunnar.Each child in this family has the same spaceconnecting us.

Y’all know how much I love you? “Infinity and back again,” I say the way I’ve said it a million times. And then, daddy says to me, “go on and add a little bit more...

This is what kindness does, Ms.Albert said. Each little thing we do goes out, like a ripple, into the world.

Do you remember?’ Someone’s always asking andsomeone else, always does

In all your getting, get understanding.

Nothing in the world is like this-a bright white page withpale blue lines. The smell of a newly sharpened pencilthe soft hush of itmoving finallyone dayinto letters.

It’s easier to make up storiesthan it is to write them down. When I speak, the words come pouring out of me. The storywakes up and walks all over the room. Sits in a chair,...

You’re writing, you’re coasting, and you’re thinking, ‘This is the best thing I’ve ever written, and it’s coming so easily, and these characters are so great.’ You put it aside for whatever reason, and you...

When there are many worldsyou can choose the oneyou walk into each day.