When I'm working on something, I proceed as if no one else will ever read it.

None of my own experiences ever finds its way into my work. However, the stages of my life - motherhood, middle age, etc. - often influence my subject matter.

Reading any piece of writing aloud is an acid test, particularly when it comes to dialogue. There were writers I'd always admired who suddenly rang false when I spoke their words in our living room.

I wonder how many times we dream that kind of dream-something strange and illogical-and fail to realize God is trying to tell us something.

Some people are aware of everything that is going on everywhere at every moment in their lives.

And she thought what a clean, simple life she would have led if it weren't for love.

I was standing in the schoolyard waiting for a child when another mother came up to me. Have you found work yet? she asked. Or are you still just writing?