I've just finished my next collection, Possible Side Effects, and I'm now working on a collection of holiday stories as well as a memoir about my relationship with my father.

This is what happens when you go against the grain of truth. You get splinters later on.

The most valuable moments and experiences that life has to offer are found only along its most treacherous paths.

I don't really think of my blog as a real blog. It's a lame blog. It's more like my when-the-mood-strikes update, or smoke signal.

My mother is from Cairo, Georgia. This makes everything she says sound like it went through a curling iron.

My attraction had been immediate and profound. And it had nothing to do with the way he looked. My attraction was to what resided between his lines.

I always tried to learn Greek, but all I got out of it was, "poulaki mou." ["My little chicken."]