I spent yesterday in Casa Grande, Arizona, at the Arizona Young Authors' Conference. What fun! I met with several outstanding young writers, talked a bit about some of my books, did a writing activity with them, and fielded their questions. Questions. It never ceases to amaze me what passes through young minds. One of the cutest questions that I was asked was as follows: "Don't you get tired of the paparazzi following you all the time?" I chuckled because the mere notion of the paparazzi or, more likely, the singular paparazzo, following a writer--especially a children's writer--around is a bit off the wall. And I answered: "Most of the time it isn't a problem, but just the other night when I was trying to have a peaceful dinner about 500 paparazzi crowded around my table and I became so upset that I left the restaurant and crashed my brand new limousine in the parking lot." Of course, I immediately confessed to pulling their leg--especially when I realized the teacher thought I was serious--and said, "The nice part about being a writer is that we are not plagued by paparazzi. A crazed teacher or librarian now and then, but not the paparazzi. When it comes to fame and the writer, people tend to know a writer's work and not the writer." (The teacher seemed very much relieved that I didn't have a limousine to crash in a parking lot.)

Now I am off to San Diego for an Authors' Festival and then will leave there for Buffalo. Pweeze let it not be snowing in Buffalo. This reminds me that I need to contact Freda and Nancy to let them know that I'm on my way.