I submitted manuscripts to publishers. This was not so much a feeling that I should be published as a wish to escape the feared and hated drudgery of normal work.

I like writing about women, weak and strong, pathetic and heroic. I like writing about men, ditto. And all the variants of men and women, beasts and demons.

I think of myself as a storyteller, and that is it.

She looked, and a scarlet butterfly flew away from her, away down the length of the tower, and then another, another, an unraveling scarf of butterflies like winged blood.

Maidens who stay maidens turn into saints. Old women become sorceresses. Tough jobs, both of these.

I like films, or some films, and would be intrigued to see my work on screen.

It's very selfish when I write. I'm not aware, ever, of writing for another person; I'm not even really aware of writing for myself.