“Until then, when I thought of writers, what first came to mind was Mom, hunched over her typewriter, clattering away on her novels and plays and philosophies of life and occasionally receiving a personalized rejection letter. But a newspaper reporter, instead of holing up in isolation, was in touch with the rest of the world. What the reporter wrote influenced what people thought about and talked about the next day; he knew what was really going on. I decided I wanted to be one of the people who knew what was really going on.”
“I carefully opened the door. Laura didn’t even notice. She was pounding away on her typewriter and she had her faraway look in spite of her glasses. I realized that last Sunday she hadn’t had them on at all, so I’d been able to see her Cuddly-Bunny eyes perfectly. Sometimes she wore them, sometimes she didn’t. ”