When you write a book, you hope - trying not to freak out - that someone will like it. One kid. One teacher. One reader who laughs at the right part. You don’t imagine that more than a million kids will read it. You don’t imagine that 10 years later it will be on its 31st printing, or that it will be chosen as the Global Read Aloud, or that every year you’ll visit elementary schools - or entire districts - where Fenway and Hattie is read together as a community, all across the country.

You definitely don’t imagine teachers pulling you aside to say, “Your book turned this kid into a reader.” (And hearing that again. And again. And again.)

You don’t imagine you’ll be invited to present at conferences, speak on panels, or teach other writers who carry their own dream of writing books for children - sometimes even at your alma mater (I’m looking at you, Barnard College💙). You don’t imagine sitting on classroom floors, shoulder to shoulder with kids, connecting over stories. You don’t imagine the look on a child’s face when you sign their book. Or the sheer number of hugs. So. Many. Hugs.

You don’t imagine you’ll go on to write and publish 10 more books (and counting). Or see your stories in bookstore windows, on the shelves of your hometown library, or on the front of a Scholastic Book Club flyer.

I could go on… but here’s the heart of it:

In the 10 years since Fenway and Hattie (my very first book) was published, my life has changed in ways I never knew were possible. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said, “I need to start dreaming bigger dreams.”

So to everyone who helped make my dreams - and dreams I didn’t even know I had - come true:

To every teacher and librarian who put Fenway into a child’s hands.

To every reader who laughed along with that rambunctious little dog.

To every kid who discovered they were a reader after all.

Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart.

Here’s to Fenway and Hattie at ten.

Here’s to stories that surprise us.