He spotted Jill sitting about thirty feet away, face tipped toward the sun, her straight brown hair tucked behind one ear and slanted across her neck. And Ben decided that when her mouth wasn't full of tuna salad, she was sort of pretty.

A tuna steak and a salad? Seventy bucks. Welcome to Los Angeles.

Part of being a fiction writer is being able to imagine how someone else is thinking and feeling. I think I've always been good at that.

My sister called her pillow a pilgo. My brother called his pacifier his nimma. But I don't think I was much of a word generator myself.

Two wrongs don't make a right, but don't three lefts make a right? Two wrongs don't make a right, but don't two negatives make a positive?

I think the reason I'm a writer is because first, I was a reader. I loved to read. I read a lot of adventure stories and mystery books, and I have wonderful memories of my mom reading picture books aloud to me. I learned that words are powerful.