As a child, I was never drawn toward depraved or extreme situations; I really wanted a normal little childhood. Unfortunately, that's just not what happened.

There is nothing about myself that I wouldn't reveal or write about. I don't care how horrendous or ridiculous I may appear in person or in print. There is great freedom in not caring what other people think.

Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas; a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.

I felt deeply tricked. Stunned. And furious. I also felt my default emotion: numbness.

There is no shame in being hungry for another person. There is no shame in wanting very much to share your life with somebody.

I don't believe in the concept of a soul mate. Because we are all unique, but we're also simply too similar.

But I can also write in crappy motel rooms, while standing in line, or sitting in the dentist's chair.