Fading light buttered the ridges until shadows licked them clean and they were lost to nightfall.

When I started to be a writer, I was not going to run the risk of boring you.

This is how sudden things happened that haunted forever.

Fading light buttered the ridges until shadows licked them clean and they were lost to nightfall.

I've bumped into at least three people in town who all insist 'Winter's Bone' is about them.

But I've been at writing long enough now to know that every three or four books I have to start a new direction.

There's an overlap between social-realist fiction and crime fiction - a sweet spot there.