I admit it: I'm a freak who sits obsessively in front of my computer typing my name into Yahoo Search over and over again. I'm a closet Amberholic. Please help me!

I just feel lucky to have grown up where I did because I think it gave me a nice base. Hollywood can really mess with your sense of self and I feel like coming from the South keeps me pretty grounded.

I'm not a big hijinker. I'm a big sit-in-my-chair-and-read-a-book-er.

Mindi Scott has a real talent for getting inside her protagonist's head. She sketches out Coley's story in grand swathes, and then paints in all the little details, so that you feel as though you are enmeshed in Coley's brain: thinking her thoughts, feeling her confusion, anger, and, in the end, pain. I just don't think it's possible to read this book and not identify with Coley in some way.

You were doing a TV show - you don't realise that you're also making social commentary at the same time.

There's no right way to be female or female-identifying. You can love clothes or you cannot love clothes. You can be a stay-at-home mom or you can have a career. You can do both. You can choose to have kids you can choose to not have kids.

I wouldn't want to forget anything, even the weird stuff and the bad stuff. It makes you who you are.