After 20 years working in book publishing, ten of those as editor-in-chief of Delacorte Press and Dell, you'd think I'd have learned a thing or two about what it means to be a writer. Well I didn't. It's very different to be on this side of the editorial table. Being an editor-choosing what books to publish, helping writers do their very best possible work, making sure the book is published well - is not an easy job. You have to first trust your own instincts and then stand by them, then you have sales people to cajole, marketing people to nudge, and writers to convince. But nothing could have prepared me for how hard it is to be a writer. Sure, it is wonderful. One of the most wonderful things I've ever done. But if I were ever to become a full-time editor again, like when the Polar ice cap melts, I would never talk to authors the way I used to. I remember saying to an author once, "I love your book, but you need to go back. Your first 100 pages need work." I would DIE if someone said that to me. I cannot believe many of my authors are still my friends! Writing is, for me, a wacky combination of tortuously hard work and magic. Facing that blank page is like climbing Mount Everest, except for the life-threatening part. But when a thought comes, when I'm reminded of something someone said ten years ago, or when a character says something wild and real, it's like magic. I get excited the way I get excited on the roller coaster at the Santa Cruz boardwalk. The hairs on my arms stand straight and my heart leaps to my throat and I want to laugh and throw up at the same time. Speaking of Santa Cruz, I am from California. Though I have lived in New York for twenty-five years, I grew up in northern California and will forever feel its pull. My parents are New Yorkers who moved to Lorain, Ohio (don't ask) where I was born, along with my three brothers, to whom I'm still very close. We moved to Berkeley, California when I was eight. I attended Martin Luther King Junior High and then Berkeley High, where I received a scholarship to a music camp because of my brilliant rendition of the Hawaii 5-0 Theme Song on baritone saxophone. I worked every summer from age 13 at a day camp and then, taught nursery school through college to support myself. I majored in Political Theory at UC Berkeley, a useless degree, perfect for law school. After college, my good friend Becky and I planned to go to Europe before entering law school. But Becky decided not to go, so I went alone, and spent three months there. I met people, had adventures, got lonely, saw great art, ate mostly fruit and bread and cheese. (I was on a strict budget--the tighter I was, the longer the trip would last.) Today I look back on that trip with awe that I had the guts to do it. The experience gave me the ridiculous feeling that I could do anything. So I stayed in New York. First I called my parents and broke their hearts, but promised them that I'd only be gone for a year. Then I answered an ad in The New York Times for a copywriter at Simon and Schuster (the parent company of my publisher, Atria, today!) and got the job. It was a very exciting time in publishing and I was working at a bold and successful company with a bunch of bright and interesting people. I was hooked and left the law school idea behind forever. My career took me to Avon Books, Dell, and Warner, each time moving up the corporate ladder in the creative marketing areas. I was lucky to have bosses who appreciated crazy, ideas and I flourished. So when I got a call from the President and Publisher of Dell, to come back to Dell, but this time as editorial director, I jumped at the opportunity. Later, after years and hard work, I eventually became editor-in-chief of Delacorte Press as well as all the paperback imprints at Dell. I remember calling my mom, about ten years after being in New York, to tell her I was going to be Editorial Director of Dell. Her response? "Does this mean you're not moving back home?" In 1992 I was married to a wonderful man who I'd met at Warner Books. We adopted a dog at the ASPCA, a beautiful chocolate-brown mutt, with one of those anthropomorphic faces, who we named Charlie and treated like a child. We had twins in 1996 -- a boy and a girl who are now eleven and awesome -- and Charlie was relegated to family dog. Over the years he slowed down a lot. He no longer humped everyone who walked in the door. This is a picture of me with my dog Charlie, a Spaniel/Lab mix, whom we had rescued from a shelter when he was just a pup. I am sad to tell you that Charlie died in December 2004, after 16 wonderful years of life. He gave my family and me so much love and so many laughs. We will miss him always. Below is a picture of our rebound dog, Milo, who is a Beagle/Basset mix. We rescued Milo from a shelter, ignoring some vague information about him having been adopted three or four times before-only to be returned for a variety of equally vague reasons. An illness in the family or too many little children or too much freedom. Stuff like that. We believed that all Milo needed was a loving family who were committed to training and loving him. So we took him home. And immediately Milo became the dog from Hell. Who knew that hound dogs howl? And dig? And are so stubborn that when we disciplined him for jumping on the coffee table, he looked at us as if to say, "Whatever." And when I called the shelter to get the real lowdown on him, I said, "But he's so cute." And the woman who runs the shelter replied, "Yes, he has that." "He has that?!!!" She made me feel that we'd just adopted a psychopath with adorable coloring. Fortunately, Milo is responding well to our attempts at training. And even he has little resistance against the power of love. Milo will never be Charlie. He will be Milo and we will love him. But Milo needed a buddy to keep him from howling. So, we got a dog for our dog. His name is Doc, another mix from another shelter, and he looks like a giant Dachshund. He's very sweet, if only he wouldn't jump on you and lick your lips. Dogs! I like some dogs, I despise some dogs, but I adore my dogs. They are the best dogs in the world, after all. Except Milo. Charlie is the first dog I ever had. Growing up, my family had rodents for pets-chipmunks, rats, mice, hamsters, etc. Not to mention about a hundred fish and turtles over the years. My parents on dogs: too dirty, who will walk it, when you're thirty and living on your own, then you can get one. And so I did. In 1999, Bantam and Dell were merged, and I was laid-off. Then my creative life began. I had long dreamed of doing something truly creative, and had forever been talking about writing a screenplay set in publishing. Thank god for severance, because mine allowed me the time and opportunity to write it. It is called "Severance," and is about a woman in book publishing who wants to start her own company but doesn't have the money so she tries to get herself fired so she can collect severance to help pay for her dream. That screenplay got me both an agent and a manager in L.A. and has since been optioned. It gave me the courage to commit to writing as my work, and to not return to corporate life. What I really, secretly dreamed of writing was a novel. But the prospect of that was very scary. I hadn't received an MFA at a prestigious school, much less studied writing as an undergrad. I had never even written a short story, for god's sake, and you know what they say about editors: They can't write; that's why they edit. It wasn't until my husband really pushed me, as if he knew precisely what was in my heart, that I decided to do it. I took a couple of writing workshops led by outstanding teachers to help get me going and soon after sold The Dog Walker to an exceptional publisher! In fact, it sold in 12 foreign languages too, and was optioned for the movies. And then I wrote another book, called Late Night Talking, about my obsession with rude behavior. And I'm working on my next. So, twenty-five years after telling my folks I'd be home next year, I'm living in New York, working on my next novel. So I guess this is it. I'm hooked, I'm here, I am a writer.