I get really starstruck and tongue tied when I'm around other writers and the conversation tends not to go well.

And then he left, and came back, and our lives fell apart, like a well-loved book that you’d read and read again, until one night you picked it up to read yourself to sleep and the binding collapsed, sending dozens of pages spiraling toward the floor.

You should be concerned about the state of your soul, not the state of your bank account.

Many writers secretly long to be performers. You always get the 'if you weren't a writer' question. I would be a back-up singer, to stand in the back and go like 'do, do, do.

I don't like futons. They can't commit. I'm a bed! I'm a couch! I'm a bed! I'm a couch!

I can carry a tune with a three-note range. Once I'm out of that range, I'm in trouble.

If there had been an exercise I'd liked, would I have gotten this big in the first place?