A novel is like a sausage. You might like the final taste but you don't want to see how it was made.

Writing a novel in general is like trying to reach a mountain top you'll never quite reach - so you try again and maybe get a little closer.

I remember one time I heard this English professor asking the class what the world's scariest noise is. Is it a man crying out in pain? A woman's scream of terror? A gunshot? A baby crying? And the professor shakes his head and says, 'No, the scariest noise is, you're all alone in your dark house, you know you're all alone, you know that there is no chance anyone else is home or within miles—and then, suddenly, from upstairs, you hear the toilet flush.

Kids don’t do what their parents say-they do what they see their parents do. So who was to blame here?

There is a certain fate to the universe and a certain randomness.

That's what a good crime novelist - any good novelist - should do with you: play with your perceptions while showing you everything in plain sight.

When I was seventeen, I worked as a counsellor at a co-ed sleep-away camp for eight weeks. I loved it but it could be harrowing - it was far too much responsibility for someone my age.