It's a jagged thing in my throat, how much I miss her.

Try a little tenderness.

I don’t want these memories to become slippery, to just disappear into the thin air of life the way most things seem to. I want them to stick – even the bad ones – so I repeat them often.

I don't like to do too much psychological research because it might turn a character into a patchwork.

Because love, love is never finished. It circles and circles, the memories out of order and not always complete.

My books usually end where they began. I try to bring characters back to a point that is familiar but different because of the growth that they have gone through.

I don't yell back at my mother. When I'm angry or scared or upset, I don't yell. I stay quiet. I've seen how she is, how she would get with Kent and with me and with other people, life if someone at the pharmacy got in the wrong line or asked too long a question, or if someone on the bus accidentally bumped her. I've watched her my whole life, the way people react to her. It doesn't actually help you get what you want, yelling and being like that. It only makes people think bad of you.