Why I wrote this

October 2026

In 2006, around the time my mother was publishing the third of her children's books about a hedgehog named Marion, she challenged me to write a short story. I did. We passed it back and forth for a couple of years, me writing, her suggesting, me revising, until I was happy with it and she had nothing left to mark.

Eighteen years ago, she challenged me to turn it into a book. I started, and for years it came slowly, a chapter here and there between everything else. By eight or nine years ago I had fifteen or so chapters in various states, and I hated all of them. So I threw them out and began again.

I finished it this past spring, spent the summer editing, and published it at the end of September.

The short story I wrote initially is the prologue now. I had to change a few things after I changed directions, but it is still very close to how it ended up all those years ago.

My mother did not live to see it. She was the reason that I love to read, and the one who asked me to tell this story. I kept the promise.

Nathan Alberg helped give this book its face. Years ago he drew my mother's books. The same hand on this one lets my work stand with hers.