With apologies to all my past boyfriends, I never loved a man the way I loved my old apartment.

The very best parts of me go into my writing, it is the best version of myself, and I don't think it's hubristic to believe that that's worth something, worth someone else's time. It's the most I have to offer the world.

Wouldn't that be nice if we could all afford to just freely pursue our dreams?

I wish I could write while I'm on the road but it never works for me. I need to be sitting still.

My last book was speculative. I just don't quite know what I am doing. But I'll get there. I have a list of things I would love to write.

What I try very hard to do is have an hour or so in the morning when I leave the house and don't have my phone with me. I'll go sit in a cafe and read and handwrite in my notebook and not be facing a screen. My head will be clear. I will be able to hear myself think. Because honestly for the rest of the day it's just screens, screens, screens.

I remember being banned from other houses as a younger child during the winter holiday season; I was the only one who didn't believe in Santa Claus, and I was ruining everyone's Christmas.