Gail had a baby named Ned who was four months old, and a new look of baffled hurt, a left-behind sadness, like she saw that the great world kept spinning onward and away while she'd overnight become glued to her spot.

Never. Never ask for what ought to be offered.

I always loved the verve and vivacity of pulp and I kind of merged it with my own interest in family stories.

I have a book in the pipeline of short stories. You want to hear an agent scream, say 'I'm thinking about doing a collection of short stories set in the Ozarks.

The heart's in it then, spinning dreams, and torment is on the way. The heart makes dreams seem like ideas.

Gail had a baby named Ned who was four months old, and a new look of baffled hurt, a left-behind sadness, like she saw that the great world kept spinning onward and away while she'd overnight become glued to her spot.

Long, dark, and lovely she had been, in those days before her mind broke and the parts scattered and she let them go.