XO Hillary

Thanks, Susan, for acquainting me with, first off, your mom, who’s totally hot with the “Technicolor interior life” and the Italian opera, and second, Hillary and her life and work.

Would it be okay, in your thought-experiment of growing up with East Coast Hillary, if the two of you came to visit the Midwest (of the mind) of my childhood? We’ll pretend Welch’s grape juice is fine wine and drink it until we’re sick. Then we’ll ride horses.

Fresh Yarn is terrific too!

Nobody interviews writers with quite the same enthusiasm as Susan Henderson at LitPark. Over the course of a typical author's feature, Henderson includes: family pictures, first-person memoir, book graphics, imaginary conversations, and random…

Camaraderie.

Invisibility. Me.

When your father is a swordswallower-turned-encyclopedia-salesman and your mother is a repressed operatic soprano, you want to be something special. But when you’re a middle sister born in between the live-out-loud sassy one and the darling dear whose blue eyes and freckles captivate everyone, you are invisible.

I wasn’t odd enough to be an oddball and not ordinary enough to be normal. I fell through the cracks and am only now climbing out.

Thank you Susan for another fabulous interview. Thank you Hillary for sharing your oddball exploits. I have a lot to learn from you.