When I hit a block, regardless of what I am writing, what the subject matter is, or what's going on in the plot, I go back and I read Pablo Neruda's poetry. I don't actually speak Spanish, so I read it translation. But I always go back to Neruda. I don't know why, but it calms me, calms my brain.

I do no writing while I'm in Belgrade visiting my grandma.

What inspires me most to write is the act of traveling.

Wash the bones, bring the body, leave the heart behind.

You never know what's going to happen in your life, and you never know what's going to happen in someone else's life either.

I grew up in Cyprus and Egypt, these fantastic places I remember fondly.

At the end of the day, it's about the reader's attachment to and belief in the magical elements that make or break magical realism.