My mom says I'm destined to be the sort of man who uses big words but pronounces them incorrectly.

I really try to write every day. It's hard, but it's my favorite thing to do. So, it's usually not too, too hard.

Fiction helps me to reconnect with the true, deep weirdness inherent in everyday reality, in our dealings with one another, in just being alive.

My older sister has entire kingdoms inside of her, and some of them are only accessible at certain seasons, in certain kinds of weather.

When you're a kid, it's hard to tell the innocuous secrets from the ones that will kill you if you keep them.

Given the brevity of our time here, it does seem likely that our species, too, must have at best a blinkered understanding of the shape of things, the import of certain events and what distinguishes "good" from "bad" luck.

If you're short on time, that would be the two-word version of our story: we fell.