Moving to the country has been incredibly good for my work, for my sense of perspective.

My son is now fourteen, and from the moment he was born, I understood that forevermore my heart would be walking around outside my body.

Our minds have a tendency to wander. To duck and feint and keep us at a slight remove from the moment at hand.

I used to act in television commercials when I was a kid and a young adult.

A writer with her work needs to be like a dog with a bone all the time. She needs to know where she's hidden it. Where she's stored the good stuff. She needs to keep gnawing at it, even after all the meat seems to be gone. When a student of mine says (okay, whines) that she's impatient, or tired, or the worst: isn't it good enough? this may be harsh, but she loses just a little bit of my respect. Because there is no room for impatience, or exhaustion, or self-satisfaction, or laziness. All of these really mean, simply, that the inner censor has won the day.

There is no end to the promotion. There is no end to the possibilities. You can continue to promote a book for years, literally.

After my family leaves in the morning, I'll make my first coffee of the day and then I head upstairs to go to work. At least, that's my plan. I'm not going to check email. I'm not going on Facebook, or sneaking a glimpse at my Instagram feed. No. I'm not going to down that road. But with multiple devices, by the time I get upstairs [to my study] I may well have heard my iPhone ding and - it's Pavlovian.