When I was growing up the publishing world seemed so far away. When my mother wrote a book, she would look up the address of publishers on the backs of the books she owned and send off her manuscript.

She'd have to propel herself into the future by whatever means possible or she'd be trapped forever in a place whose times had already passed.

I feel as comfortable anywhere as I feel uncomfortable anywhere.

Slowly, painstakingly, like ants, men would make their paths and civilization and their wars once again, only to have it wash away again.

I'm always in the kitchen, cooking and experimenting - I love it. And every now and then I think, 'I should write a cookbook' or, 'I should write for food magazines.' And then I get drawn back to writing fiction again.

New York is a lovely city. It is an easy city to go back to and an easy city to leave. Every time I go there I immediately make travel plans.

Sadness was so claustrophobic.