I don't do rewrites. I put all the pages in a pile next to the typewriter.

I always had a fascination with twins.

I get some of my ideas from watching my three daughters, but most of them come from my own memories of growing up. I can remember how romantic I was, not just about love, but romance in the classic sense - the romantic ideals: of honor and truth, of loyalty, sacrifice and fairness. Those were the elements that made a story satisfying to me.

She needed to get out of there. Her brains, thankfully, were still safely in her skull, but her emotions were splattered on the pavement.

I don't do rewrites. I put all the pages in a pile next to the typewriter.

As pathetic as it was, she'd rather hold on to the possibility of something perfect than be hit with the reality of nothing much.

Ella was vapid and worthless at least nine-tenths of the time, but when she got really mad, her face became sharp and purposeful. Almost vicious. Like if Barbie were suddenly possessed by Atilla the Hun.