It remains unbelievable to me that I have any readers beyond my own blood relations - it's a crazy, wild gift.
Growing up, Catholic church really was such an incubator for my imagination, because all of those mysteries felt embedded in this insanely green, tropical landscape: the ocean nearby, the giant banyan trees. It all felt part of one seamless mystery to me.
Once you figure out what's best for the story, take out the rest.
It is a special kind of homelessness to be evicted from your dreams.
My favorite classes were always dumb nerdy vocabulary.
Could we betray our parents by going back to them?