I like blogs. they're good times.

...thinking that the world was like an orange, that I could split it open with my thumbnail and find a whole different world, the grown-up world, the secrets beneath the skin.

The idea you can tell a writer of a specific religion to stop writing about that religion is presumptuous.

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.

The truth is, what I learned this year is that life is hard...Good people die for no reason. Little kids get sick. The people that are supposed to love you end up leaving.

I love it when people ask who my influences are... or what my favorite part of my last book was... or the last great book I read.