I think I'm much more comfortable talking about other books than my own!

As many times as I told her she was beautiful, I know that she never believed me. As many times as I said it didn’t matter, I knew that to her it did.

There are a lot of women like me in the world, and we rarely get to see ourselves.

My feeling about my own work is, I could be writing 'The Aeneid' and they would still have to call it chick lit or mommy lit or menopausal old hag lit.

I have these "pinch me" moments when I realize I got to be the thing I wanted to be growing up. I'm right where I belong.

So here I am. Twenty-eight years old, with thirty looming on the horizon. Drunk. Fat. Alone. Unloved. And, worst of all, a cliche, Ally McBeal and Bridget Jones put together, which was probably about how much I weighed.

I'm not in charge of my life.