Good writing is good writing. In many ways, it’s the audience and their expectations that define a genre. A reader of literary fiction expects the writing to illuminate the human condition, some aspect of our world and our role in it. A reader of genre fiction likes that, too, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of the story.

"Oh My God," I blurted, grabbing onto Phin as we faced the open bedroom door. "It's the axe murderer." "I doubt he would knock," she said, but she was whispering, too, and didn't move away from me.

I was generally pro-bat, except when I was trekking through the dark trying not to think about the dire fate of every horror movie character stupid enough to go into the dark with a flashlight and check the fuses.

Screw you, John." "Sorry, Sylvie. Can't—they frown on that kind of thing between step-siblings.

When your family is twice as weird as normal, you have to be twice as polite to authority, because authority hates weird.

Don’t ever trust anyone who’s writing a book. They make up lies for a living.

Long-haired Chihuahuas have no notion they are bite-sized.