I write for kids. I write for cooks. I have 50 published books out. 11 of them won awards.
I had an adventurous, feisty, interesting marriage for 23 largely happy years. My husband, Ned, went out bicycling one day, got hit by a car and died.
I garden. I blog. I cook. I live in Vermont. Used to live in Arkansas. Before that, New York.
These days I hang out a lot with my very old mother, Charlotte Zolotow, a famous children’s book writer. Also her cat, Tumbleweed. My late father, Maurice Zolotow, was Marilyn Monroe’s first biographer.
Yes, it’s my real name.
I think anxiety, procrastination and discomfort are powerful creative forces in disguise. I think that apparent obstacles are building materials. That writing practices and principles spill over, cornucopia-like: from writing to life.
I teach writing. I teach people how to befriend uncertainty and fear through writing and thereby reclaim their creative powers of self-love and reinvention. And become better writers.
I think we’re all part of the narrative life tells itself about itself. No wonder we all have something to say.