I walk everyday.
There’s something about moving my body that makes the noise in my head dissolve just enough for ideas to slip through. Most of my stories start that way: a scene out of context, a half-thought that hits mid-step, a sentence that demands to be written down before it disappears. This is my inspiration.
I’ve stopped believing that every idea belongs to me. I think some of them choose us. I believe in the old concept of genius — not as talent, but as something almost otherworldly...