That Was Then, This is Now

by S.E. Hinton

All of a sudden it seemed like I was a hundred years old, or thirty at least.

Maybe he will outgrow it someday, but right now it’s important.

You can’t walk through your whole life saying ‘If.’ You can’t keep trying to figure out why things happen, man.

But I’m not sure I’d consider them free, either.

It was something I just couldn’t do when it meant anything.

It’s pretty lousy to have the two people you care about most hate each other.

I guess big sisters always think of little brothers as babies, no matter how old they are.

I couldn’t talk to Mom, especially when she was telling the truth.

There even have been times when I had nothing to say. I realize that doesn’t stop a lot of writers but it certainly puts a damper on me. But being blocked is different. For the first time in my life I was aware of my audience. I had always written for myself alone, and I still believe that is the best way for any artist to work. But after The Outsiders, I felt like there were people peering over my shoulder, whispering, “What is she going to do next?” The thought of it paralyzed me. It was very depressing. This went on for years. Finally, my boyfriend—who is now my husband—said to me, “You have to start writing again. I don’t care if you get published or not, but you’ve got to start writing. Just do two pages a day. Nobody has ever dropped dead of two pages.” Spoken like a true non-writer. So he would come over to take me out, and if I hadn’t done my two pages, he’d just sit down and start reading the paper. And I would sit down and start writing two pages. That was why I wrote That Was Then, This Is Now. I wanted to go out.