I tend to think in dramatic terms. In life, there may be an actual drama, but it would be the fictionalized, imagined drama that engaged me.

"Politics" per se is absent from my writing but there is usually a moral (if ironic) compass.

Cherie, keep walking. Shut your eyes. We are headed for the bridge. We are going to cross it.

I think whenever we think of our hometowns, we tend to think of very specific people: with whom you rode on the school bus, who was your next door neighbor you were playing with, who your girlfriend was. It's always something very specific.

She thought that this man was her savior, that he had come to her at a time in her life when her life demanded completion, an end, a permanent fixing of all that was troubled and shifting and deadly. And yet it was absurd to think this. No person could save another. So she drew back from him and released him.

For memory is a moral action, a choice. You can choose to remember. You can choose not.

Yet I will make you all love me and I will punish myself to spite your love.