My novels are high concept. I guess big ideas interest me more than, say, the minutiae of domestic life.

I'm a great believer in gathering together all your obsessions and seeing if you can make a novel out of them.

For other people, love is like some rare orchid that can only grow in one place under a certain set of conditions. For me it's like bindweed. It grows with no encouragement at all, under any conditions, and just strangles everything else.

If something wants to be a story, it will be.

I wonder if the reason I tend to say yes to everything is because I deeply believe that I can survive anything.

One of the paradoxes of writing is that when you write non-fiction everyone tries to prove that it's wrong, and when you publish fiction, everyone tries to see the truth in it.

I wonder at what point my life swerved to avoid that, and if that life would have been nicer than the one I've got.