|Yes, I see this as foreshadowing. Me and Kwame Alexander, I think we'd be great friends.|
|early morning edit.|
I live such a boring and simple life.
When I clear my recent browsing history here's what you'll find:
Petfinder (shhhh I want another puppy)
How to query your YA novel. It's almost done and I recently thought, like really thought about my cousin who I wrote it for...Ryan, who died at 18 in Blacksburg, Va. Fell backward out of his seventh story dorm window to his almost death. He was not quite dead yet when they found him. The note. The illness, the nothing we could do. So I wrote him back to life. In my book, well, I honored him and put a face to mental illness. Because it has a face and it's sometimes handsome and unassuming. We can never know what he was feeling. We can't go back and ask, hey Ryan, how are you doing? Can I help?
Lessons for squirrely kindergarten art classes (yes, it gets hits)
How to speed up your MacBook (that everyone keeps borrowing because really, whose house has only one computer? I mean, c'mon).
How to unclog your Bosch dishwasher, (yes this one's on you lady, you picked the stupid thing out).
How to teach a 7 year old savant how to draw when he already knows how. I am so privileged to keep one of my former students. He is quite extraordinary. I'm into new territory with this guy.
I have always known I would create books.
I'm only a paragraph away from finishing my first book and I'm finding it hard to say goodbye. These characters have lived with me for four years. And I love them so much. But I think it's time to share them. So, Ryan. I love you. This one is for you. You dear soul. My littlest brother.