Horror is the badge of humanity, worn proudly, self-righteously, and often falsely.

Why bother? I was right all along: the second you make yourself vulnerable to someone, they start drawing blood.

The sky is purple, the flare of a match behind a cupped hand is gold; the liquor is green, bright green, made from a thousand herbs, made from altars. Those who know enough to drink Chartreuse at Mardi Gras are lucky, because the distilled essence of the town burns in their bellies. Chartreuse glows in the dark, and if you drink enough of it, your eyes will turn bright green.

I've certainly learned a great deal from my husband, though, and could never have written a book like Liquor without him and the people he introduces me to and the stories he brings home.

Ive tried to avoid labels, but they always find you.

Mostly I enjoy the restaurants (my husband is a chef), though I wish we had a wider diversity of ethnic food.

I don't like to talk about work in progress, but the novel I'm working on now is definitely not horror.