Baking makes me focus. On weighing the sugar. On sieving the flour. I find it calming and rewarding because, in fairness, it is sort of magic - you start off with all this disparate stuff, such as butter and eggs, and what you end up with is so totally different. And also delicious.

I used to feel defensive when people would say, 'Yes, but your books have happy endings', as if that made them worthless, or unrealistic. Some people do get happy endings, even if it's only for a while. I would rather never be published again than write a downbeat ending.

I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.

Relationship gurus always said that an attraction based on friendship and mutual respect was far more likely to stay the course - and the bastards were right.

It was only when the salt water of my tears ran into my cuts and made them sting that I discovered I was crying.

I am prone to despair. We are all born with a particular personality. I get afraid and then I don't want to leave the house.

Here's how it is: I feel guilty about every single bite of food that goes into my mouth.