Las Vegas is incredible. Either you love it or you're a classy person with morals. I fall into the former category. It's definitely bled into my writing.

For many years I wrote nothing but "I will not sleep with Steve Almond" over and over again, page after page à la Jack Torrance in The Shining. Finally, hundreds of psychotherapy sessions and an intense shaman-guided DMT sweat lodge experience led to a breakthrough, and I was able to write about other people I would not sleep with, and also about people I would.

Luckily I'm on prescription drugs that prevent me from worrying about anything too much.

It was just such a complete shock to turn on the news one day and see someone that you know, someone you have passed in the halls of your high school. It got me thinking, 'Well, what are some novels that are about female sexual psychopaths? I really didn't have many references for that, and I felt like that was a void in transgressive literature that I wanted to fill.'

You know how some people are unlucky in love? I was always unlucky in exercise. I'd get into a relationship with a workout program or guru, we'd go steady for a few intense months, and then we'd have a really ugly breakup.

During my MFA, I was lucky to be surrounded by a really supportive group of peers. And now I get feedback pretty exclusively from freaks only.

I think what tends to embarrass me most is how much I struggle at the little things that seem to come so easily to most people, mainly involving routine and self-care. It's hard for me to do things like cook a meal, not be in a constant apocalyptically late rush everywhere I go, to put something back when I'm finished with it. I seem to be hardwired for chaos and disorganization.