She had us write and read aloud over and over and over. It was like clearing out a spring clogged with twigs and dirt and rotted leaves. For a year I wrote and read aloud in a weekly group, and then I quit my job working with teens to devote more time to writing. When my savings ran out, I found work as a copyeditor and then an editor on computer trade magazines.

That year—1986—I wrote The Secret of the Seal, which sold just two and a half months after I sent it out. I believed that not only was my writing career launched, but it would be a piece of cake! Truthfully, I had (and still have) a lot to learn, and fortunately I’ve had some great teachers. I once whined to author Gary Paulsen, whom I met at a conference, about my printer breaking down. He said, "If you can't handle a printer breaking down, you're in the wrong business." It's embarrassing now to recall complaining to Gary about such a trivial thing. Likewise, when I griped about how hard it was to write My Brother Has AIDS to an artist friend who has since died of AIDS, he said, not unkindly but without pity, "Did you think making art was supposed to be easy?"