I know tons of people who want to write a book. Maybe it was the easy success of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with those vampire books, but at least three people within a couple of blocks of my house all say they're writing books. So when my son came home one day and said, oh, by the way, so-and-so from work is writing a book about a boy who grew up in Needles, California, my husband announced, "Everybody is writing a book. I'm going to write one." And he made one up on the spot, about a kid who grew up in Needles, California. My kids quote the entire thing on a regular basis, which isn't hard, because it's really short. Here it is: "It sure is hot out here," said Billy, as he looked across the barren wasteland that he called home. "Mom, can I have a cookie?" "Sure, Honey, it's the least I can do since we live in such a crappy place," she said, wondering why she'd ever married a man who would move to a place