For the first time since I'd started writing, I let go and this story came pouring out. I felt as if I'd always known Margaret. When I was in sixth grade, I longed to develop physically like my classmates. I tried doing exercises, resorted to stuffing my bra, and lied about getting my period. And like Margaret, I had a very personal relationship with God that had little to do with organized religion. God was my friend and confidant. But Margaret's family is very different from mine, and her story grew from my imagination.
Margaret brought me my first and most loyal readers. I love her for that.