In my writing classes, I don't outlaw any genre writing.

Synesthesia has interested me for a long time, both as a literary device and as a puncturing of the membranes that organize how the world comes into someone's head.

So often we think of a wound or a loss as making a person feel more deeply, become a better person. But I don't think that always happens. I think it can constrict people's lives, especially if they don't push beyond it.

When I watch students make particular decisions about language, structure, and form, it sharpens my own thinking and my own development as a writer.

I'm always interested in encountering people who are synesthetic and seeing how they experience things.

I am fascinated by tiny, incremental changes, almost imperceptible shifts in how people orient themselves in the world, because those are in some ways the most hopeful.

There's relief in white space for the reader.