Stories Are Light. Light Is Precious In

I Journal For About Half An Hour, And By The Time That's Done, The Business Day On The East Coast Has Begun. The Phone Starts To Ring, And The Rest Of The Day Is Spent Dealing With The Business Of Writing. My Workday Is Done At About 3:00.

On The Return Flight From My Mother In Florida , I Sat Next To A Businessman Who Asked Me What I Did For A Living. I Said, "i Write," And It Seemed Totally Ridiculous In The Face Of What Had Just Happened. I Mean, I Couldn't Think Of Anything More Pointless Than Telling Stories. He Asked, "what Do You Write?" I Said, "i Write Children Books."

It Seems To Be That Way With Most Things. No One To Do The Really Disagreeable Jobs Except Oneself.

I Have Been Loved, Edward Told The Stars. So? Said The Stars. What Difference Does That Make When You Are All Alone Now?

The Tale Of Despereaux Is The Story Of An Unlikely Hero, A Mouse, Who Falls In Love With A Princess And Then Must Save Her. It's A Triumph Of The Human Spirit, Via A Mouse.