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

He unscrewed the lid, set it on the dash, snorted from the bottle twice, banged the steering wheel, and said, 'You got to be ready to die every day - then you got a chance.'

This is how sudden things happened that haunted forever.

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.

The heart makes dreams seem like ideas.

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

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