If You're Gonna Do Something Weird, Just

I'm Probably A Lot Closer Than Perhaps The Contents Of My Early Fiction Suggest To A Jaded Denny's Waitress With Smoker's-lung-black Humor Than A Ghost Hunter.

I Am Extremely Close To My Brother, Kent, And My Sister, Lauren, Who Have Been Remarkably Understanding About All Of My Weird Sibling Tales.

A Food Truce, The Picnic Suspension Of Oedipal Feeling That Permits The Generations To Love Each Other At Family Reunions.

Whenever Someone Asks Me About Fantasy Versus Realism, I'm Like, "i Don't Know, Guys. Did We Not All Just Descend Into Some Underworld, Watch Strangers From Our Past Kaleidoscope Through Us According To Some Pattern That Is Both Illogical And Has Its Own Strange Melting Truth, And Then Wake Up And Have A Pop-tart?" Why Are We Talking About Fantasy And Reality Like They're Opposed?

Sometimes, When You're Writing Sentence By Sentence, You're Not Really Sure What Footprints You're Going To Fall Into, Or What Ghosts Might Appear.