No, Margaret Atwood writes literature, whereas I write fiction. I'm from the American Midwest, so literature is beyond my abilities.

Is time the wheel that turns, or the track it leaves behind?

I am not mad because I'm a woman... I'm mad because you're an asshole.

This concept could easily have gone awry. Stories about love tend to go that way sometimes. They wander into the realm of cheese and never return, which I think is a shame, because there is a way to write about romantic love without breaking out the Velveeta.

You need a certain amount of nerve to be a writer...an almost physical nerve, the kind you need to walk a log across a river.

Why do you say vague things if you don't want to be asked about them?