I wanted to write stories for myself. At first it was purely an aesthetic thing about craft. I just wanted to become good at the art of something. And writing was very private.

I felt foolish and tired, as if I had been running to escape someone chasing me, only to look behind to discover there was no one there.

You can have pride in what you do each day, but not arrogance in what you were born with.

In America nobody says you have to keep the circumstances somebody else gives you.

I feel I've always been writing about self-identity. How do we become who we are? So I'm just writing from experience what's concerned me.

I've always been a magnet for guilt.

Why do you think you are missing something you never had?