Where the Heart Is (37 page)

I thought back to all of the people in my life . . . Teenaged parents.

Loving grandmothers. Cousins, one like a sister to me, who plugged the cavities in her teeth with gum because there was no money to pay a dentist. A mother-in-law who prepared meals for my family when an imaginary chicken was thawing in my kitchen. An amazing group of friends over the years who sustained us, helped us to raise our children, and loved us.

Then there were the writers. I didn’t copy them as much as consider in amazement how they could strengthen the human heart. William Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor. Eudora Welty and Toni Morrison.

John Steinbeck and Sandra Cisneros. Randall Jarrell and Lucille Clifton. Maya Angelou.

Now, when people ask me how to write a book, the answer is easy.

I don’t know. I only know how I have written two books. I had stories to tell and I began typing.