Jealousy has always been my cross, the weakness and woundedness in me that has most often caused me to feel ugly and unlovable, like the Bad Seed.

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do.

Get to know your characters as well as you can let there be something at stake, and then let the chips fall where they may.

Some people may have thought that this book was too personal, too confessional. But what these people think about me is none of my business.

I do not have deep theological understanding or opinion, but I do not read the Bible as the literal word of God.

Mothering has been the richest experience of my life, but I am still opposed to Mother's Day. It perpetuates the dangerous idea that all parents are somehow superior to non-parents.

If you are hoping to find your self-worth and fulfillment in other peoples' opinion of your writing, you will never find it.