I survived many a youth hostel bunk room reading Tolstoy by flashlight.

In my high-minded and naive way, I believed the only books worth reading were the classics.

I just feel like there's this illicit thrill in reading other people's mail and spying on their lives.

Much of the time in the writer's room is spent working on story, and I was always challenging myself to make it more interesting, tighter and more surprising: to come at it sideways in a way that the audience wasn't expecting.

I never understood the concept of a fluffy summer read. For me, summer reading means beaches, long train rides and layovers in foreign airports. All of which call for escaping into really long books.

I took a speed-reading course and read War and Peace in twenty minutes. It involves Russia.