August 2007 (cont.)

I began writing for young people thirty-five years ago. When I made my uncertain way into my first novel, I didn’t have a clue whether what I was producing was junk or timeless literature. I have come to understand that it falls very much between the two. It is neither as good as I had hoped nor as bad and I had feared.

I am blessed with some small talent and a great deal more determination. I am honest—sometimes more honest than my adult readers care for—and young readers love honesty.

I am also extremely fortunate. I have the privilege of spending my life at work I love.

And that, finally, is what matters—to me, anyway—to be able to do this work with love.

On that subject, no other opinion matters.