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.

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.

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.

death should be celebrated...when you put something in the ground you always know where it is

I've always written about animals. I'm still trying to process why that is.

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

I am very interested in place, and the influences of place on characters.