There's nothing confessional about crafting and shaping a story out of a lived life. In fact, it's quite the opposite - the writer has to be able to transcend the life, to see it as if standing outside of it, in order to be able to make something of it. There's something enormously satisfying and gratifying about crafting something, taking all that chaos and giving it shape.

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

We're all simultaneously separated and connected by our devices, staring into our little screens, and also hungry for experience and community.

There's something about urban life - you walk out your door, and you're in a steady of stream of life happening around you, and it's very easy to get caught up in that stream and simply kind of keep on moving.

In a creative journey, it is essential, no matter how far one runs, to examine that which is closest to home.

If there's anything weirder than an introverted writer going to lots of social functions, it's an introverted writer being converted into an accidental guru.

I never feel so alive as when I'm writing and the work is going well.