Times Square

Review From User :

All of us writers have so much to learn from this book. If you are not a writer, skip this paragraph. If you are, or aspire to be, a writer, try this exercise: 1. Type out the first few paragraphs of A Cricket in Times Square as you read them. Feel the music in your fingers. Feel the light quickness of the sentences. 2. Turn to the end of the book (if you have read it before!), and type out the last few paragraphs. Take a moment to feel it again. You have just felt in your own fingers a little bit of magic.
I tried this exercise myself. As an author who previously wrote for adults, I had to learn how to capture the special voice-on-the-wind style that speaks so well for children. There is no better teacher than George Selden.

A cat, a mouse, and a cricket. All of them living in a nook at a newspaper stand in Times Square. This book speaks to us on so many levels. Cricket speaks to the child in us, the child that finds the most delight in the little things. (Read this book to a second grader-any second grader-and you'll see!) Cricket also speaks to the forests and rivers and natural wonders that we carry inside us no matter where we are. Even on the platform of one of the busiest subway stations in the world. Yet the book also speaks to we lovers of cities, with its great mix of cultures (a cat, a mouse, a cricket, all friends Only in New York.) At last, the book has a lot to say about music. If a child you know is interested in music, give this book to them, and I guarantee a raise of spirits! Indeed, Selden writes so well, that if you listen, you can nearly hear the songs.


Once in a while right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.

I saw that quote about fairy tales embroidered on a decorative pillow at a home decorating store. Honestly, it pissed me off. Retail propaganda aimed to promote sales when any single girl in the city could tell them they’d sell more if they’d offer Keep Your Pants On, Asshole instead.
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But it’s fine. I don’t have room for decorative pillows anyway.

And I don’t have time for distractions.

Which is why I’m ignoring the distraction staring at me right now. The one who looks like he belongs on a billboard campaign. The one with the full lips and the cocky smile. The one refusing to look away even when I give him my best no way scowl.

The one headed in my direction. Right now.

Times Square