When people ask what I write about, that's what I tell them: 'The drama of human relationships.' I'm not even close to running out of material.

Long after Salinger sent me away, I continued to believe his standards and expectations were the best ones.

[On home births:] In a house where there had been three people, there were now four, although no one had come in the door.

I do not outline. There are writers I know and count as my friends who certainly do it the other way but for me part of the adventure is not knowing how it's going to turn out.

It troubles me that people speak about writing for money as ugly and distasteful.

Those who rhapsodize about the ease and joy of childhood have perhaps forgotten what it's like to be 12 years old.

The real drug, I came to believe, was love.