I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless?

I'm beginning to think that maybe it's not just how much you love someone. Maybe what matters is who you are when you're with them.

I do write long, long character notes - family background, history, details of appearance - much more than will ever appear in the novel. I think this is what lifts a book from that early calculated, artificial stage.

It is very difficult to live among people you love and hold back from offering them advice.

When I read, I'm purely a reader

He was wondering if there was some cryptic, cultish mark on his door that told all the crazy people he'd have trouble saying no.

Not until the final draft do I force myself to remember that I'm going to have to think about how it will affect other people.