Try To Be Accurate About Stuff.

We Have Lost The Art Of Public Tenderness, These Small Gestures Of Wiping And Washing; We Have Forgotten How Abjectly The Body Welcomes A Formal Touch.

I Love The Characters Not Knowing Everything And The Reader Knowing More Than Them. There's More Mischief In That And More Room For Seriousness, Too.

I'm Very Keenly Aware That There Aren't Very Many Women Writing Literary Fiction In Ireland And So That Gives Me A Sense That What I Say Matters, In Some Small Way.

There Are Little Thoughts In Your Head That Can Grow Until They Eat Your Entire Mind. Just Tiny Little Thoughts--they Are Like A Cancer, There Is No Telling What Triggers The Spread, Or Who Will Be Struck, And Why Some Get It And Others Are Spared.

I'm Quite Interested In The Absolute Roots Of Narrative, Why We Tell Stories At All: Where The Monsters Come From.