Lindsey Graham

You give the children a nod and they begin to frantically unwrap their presents.

Nell leans back on the sofa, enjoying the chaos.

Then she points to two gifts tucked under the tree.

Nell smiles as you and your wife open your gifts.

A portrait of a humorist for you and a collection of writing for your wife.

But as the last gifts are opened, you notice a hint of disappointment spread across Nell's face.

You smile and point to the tree.

Nell finds an envelope tucked into the pine boughs.

She looks confused as she reads what you've written inside.

You look at Nell and know you've made the right choice.

She already has a new glow, like your gift lit a match inside her.

You can't wait to see what the next year will bring.

After the Browns' generous gift in December 1956, Lee promised herself, I would do my best not to fail them.

She promptly quit her job at the airline and holed up in her apartment, telling a friend she wouldn't be leaving the house for the entire year.

Lee called writing the hardest thing in the world for me.

Sometimes she'd spend six to twelve hours churning out just one page.

Her focus on revisions made her a slow worker.

In fact, she called herself more of a rewriter than a writer.

But with nothing to distract her, Lee was able to quicken the pace of her work.

She'd spent seven years in New York with little to show for them, but in just two months, by the end of February 1957, she'd drafted a novel.