The language of the novel differs from the just-the-facts language of the old tales. It's robust and earthy, sometimes even baroque.

We are like flowers always reaching up towards some shred of light. I find this wondrous, nearly magical, certainly brave.

Because answers are inert things that stop inquiry. They make you think you have finished looking. But you are never finished. There are always discoveries that will turn everything you think you know on its head and that will make you ask all over again: Who are we?

Writing, for me, is always a dance between the critical part of my brain and the subconscious.

In fact, not knowing is a necessary condition of writing for me. I don't know how else to reach something unexpected. I have to be as in the dark as my characters.

As we change, the way in which we are perceived in terms of our relevance, our value, our beauty, and sexual potency changes.

The story has to flow from an unstructured, felt place, but then I have to bring my analytical brain to bear on issues of craft.