Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in. In other words: Home has exceedingly low standards.

As such, anything is always possible, even if your protagonist is a plumber. But it's the possibility, the limitless possibilities, of any fake life, that make writing about it so challenging.

I think the one reason that writers marry other writers - one of the reasons that I married another writer - was, I fell in love with that writer. But second of all, I had been married before and a source of marital strife was me needing to go away for a couple of weeks to write or it's Saturday and I think I just need to work today and not hang out with you.

When you are expending much energy on someone else's demise, it's like you weaken your psychic immune system.

I used to have a really sharp memory. And its loss has proven destabilizing from an identity perspective.

I like playing with a popular cliché and making it my own by half-embracing it, half-disemboweling it.

If, at some future point, my face collapses around my eyes, I'd probably do something about it. My eyes are where I live, and if people couldn't see them, no one would know me.