Interviews

…that’s what’s toxic: the belief that I’m not enough. Substances are, in general, neutral.

Visually, prose tells us that we’re moving through time, through narrative or rhetoric, and visually, poetry tells us we’re moving up and down through lyric, feeling.

Who among us can say that the life they’re leading is the product of their choices and not a staging of the script they were handed at birth?

To me, the difference between invisibility and opacity is the difference between being misread and being granted a quality of privacy that is a fundamental part of being a human among other humans.

Hope stems in the imagination, in our capacity to re-imagine how life on this finite planet could coexist with non-human life and the cycles of shift that give us a cool summer breeze and the hurricane. 

You may end up losing control. You may yell at your child or your mother. I want to give permission to the smorgasbord of feelings around loss.

I’ve learned how to play inside prose. . . . I have no fear because I have no map.

My guideline for myself and my advice for others in terms of curating and editing is to be open and let the work that’s created guide you…

Human exceptionalism is being challenged, and with that, there’s a growing public outcry that it’s time to care for our fellow creatures.

If you can speak honestly about the risks you’re taking, it’s likely you’ll forge a deeper bond with your reader and your subject. 

I decided what the world needed was a novel with a big old bestial lesbian love affair in it.

Music is massively important, and it’s layered in this book. It’s Bikini Kill. It’s Nirvana. But it’s also our spirit songs.