We hated pretentiousness; it was a form of self-hatred.

Home is where somebody notices when you are no longer there.

I think about the story while I think about other things. This is an important part of the process: I look at it sideways. If I look straight at it, it produces nothing other than what seem like complicated, brilliant designs that fall apart the following morning. In some way stories mature when you're not looking.

It was always clear to me that I would have to earn my readers, some I would have to find, some to create.

Whatever solidarity I have established with other writers individually, it is usually organized around books. We connected as readers, as it were, not writers.

I recognized him then; that is, I finally comprehended what I had known but had never been able to formulate: he had always been complete. He had finished the work of becoming himself, long before any of us could even imagine such a feat was possible.

It's so internalized, the way your mind works in relation to anything - it's a process, but then it isn't. It's working all the time.