I try to stick with what moves me or teaches me about myself, same thing I hope the novels do for others.

I love the most the students with troubled lives.

If you risked love, it took you wherever you wanted to go. If you repressed it, you ended up unhappy.

Human behavior in the midst of hardship caught my attention very early on, and my first stories were all pictures, no words.

Connecticut is in my blood.

The evidence of God exists in the roundness of things.

I don't know. Maybe we're all chaos theorists. Lovers of pattern and predictability, we're scared shitless of explosive change. But we're fascinated by it, too. Drawn to it. Travelers tap their brakes to ogle the mutilation and mangled metal on the side of the interstate, and the traffic backs up for miles. Hijacked planes crash into skyscrapers, breached levees drown a city, and CNN and the networks rush to the scene so that we can all sit in front of our TVs and feast on the footage. Stare, stunned, at the pandemonium--the devils let loose from their cages.