Let me start by saying this: Make art. Make art. Make art. And in the words of Neil Gaiman, "Make good art." Art saves lives. Art gives us reason to continue breathing. Art heals. Art inspires. Art helps us process anything. Anything. Anything at all. Art gives us a way to pull through the worst. And when the worst is over, art helps us celebrate and enjoy the best. Now as never before art is what will carry us through.

And in the words of Neil Gaiman, "Make good art." Art saves lives. Art gives us reason to continue breathing. Art heals. Art inspires. Art helps us process anything. Anything. Anything at all. Art gives us a way to pull through the worst. And when the worst is over, art helps us celebrate and enjoy the best. Now as never before art is what will carry us through.

Writing TUBE forced me into one of the worst of my fears: facing my father again. I was terrified of doing it. I wrote anything but what I needed to write. I almost quit writing it. I trashed every single one of the previous drafts. This draft—draft number five—is at last what I wanted to say, to myself, to the little girl about five years old who was so terrified, she held me frozen and wouldn't let me go into her memories. I had to coax her. I had to ask her permission. I had to hold her hand. Together we had to find a way to go back into the closed, scary rooms, and come out the other end, complete. Yes, writing TUBE has reunited me with that little girl. I distinctly remember the moment when it happened, and it's described in the book, and it made me weep. It was good weeping. It was healing.