tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1755502616289652010.post7109678377786698155..comments2024-03-07T04:13:36.330-06:00Comments on The Storyteller's Inkpot: Faculty Voices: FOOD FOR THOUGHT, by Kelly EastonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1755502616289652010.post-48244676551848150282013-10-06T13:58:00.363-05:002013-10-06T13:58:00.363-05:00My brothers used to do that all the time, Liza. I...My brothers used to do that all the time, Liza. I remember one of them standing in the light of the fridge downing a half gallon of chocolate milk, much to my despair!Kelly Eastonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13409037341580163662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1755502616289652010.post-16018840724017099642013-10-02T07:16:26.452-05:002013-10-02T07:16:26.452-05:00Thank you, Kelly! I also try to include food in m...Thank you, Kelly! I also try to include food in my novels. One of the silliest interactions I ever had with a copy editor came up because of food. Todd, my 17 year old, perpetually hungry protagonist in Twelve Days in August, comes home after soccer practice, opens the fridge, and drinks milk straight from the carton. The copy editor circled that scene in red. "Ew! What sort of kid does that?" she queried. Kids like mine, I thought. I called my editor. "Surely this woman has no children," I said. My editor laughed . "You're right," she said. "Just ignore her." I did.Liza Ketchumhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04926743479295373837noreply@blogger.com