I often envy my friends who are visual artists. Visual artists have other things to work with. Other media. I envy my sculptor friends: they have hunks of matter. Marble. Wood. It's physical, which I find very appealing. What we have is nothing, is just glaringly blank.

You have to believe in yourself before the world has given you any indication that you should believe in yourself as a writer.

I've always felt like my nose is pressed to glass. I always feel a little bit like an outsider.

As a writer we are our own instruments; we need to protect our instrument, because no one will protect it if we don't.

Our pain is a part of who we authentically are.

In every generation there is a vault-keeper, one who guards the links fiercely and knows they are more precious than rubies.

Success is so fleeting, even if you get a good book deal or your book is a huge success, there's always the fear: What about the next one?