The Girl Has A Funny Way Of

I Do Think That I Have A More Flexible View Of The Interactions Between People, And Between Human And Non-human Protagonists, Humans And Their Landscapes.

What Passes For News Is Just Morbid Speculation Or Cartoonish Screaming, Followed By Diaper Commercials.

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?

Granana Doesn't Understand What The Big Deal Is. She Didn't Cry At Olivia's Funeral, And I Doubt She Even Remembers Olivia's Name. Granana Lost, Like, Ninety-two Million Kids In Childbirth. All Of Her Brothers Died In The War. She Survived The Depression By Stealing Radish Bulbs From Her Neighbors' Garden, And Fishing The Elms For Pigeons. Dad Likes To Remind Us Of This In A Grave Voice, As If It Explained Her Jaundiced Pitilessness: "boys. Your Grandmother Ate Pigeons."

When I'm Drafting, I Suppose It's An Intuitive Process - Figuring Out When Something Just Has A Surreal Glaze On It And When It Grapples With Something That Could Threaten A Character's Day-to-day Reality.