Our pain is a part of who we authentically are.

I've certainly faced some raw, real pain in my life. I lost my father to a car accident when I was young. My mother died ten years ago. My son was very sick as an infant. Eventually, I have attempted to transform this pain into art, to make meaning out of it.

I think so much about how we read, about the nature of solitude, and of community, is changing in ways that none of us yet understand.

We can't protect ourselves from pain and heartache.

My parents made the decision never to focus on my looks, and I had no sense of myself as beautiful.

I do keep a tiny little journal in which I write passages that I read and want to hold on to. This practice is sort of the opposite of Twitter.

There are books that a writer undertakes because she wants to go on a journey, and there are journeys a writer undertakes because she wants to write a book.