They were a very good form for me - the way a short story has to be designed in order to function, to get in everything it needs to - and they tend to be absolutely chock-a-block full of mechanisms and tricks that writers use to do the things they need to and have the effects they need to have.
My mother was a midwife and a herbalist, so we would go on these long walks, looking for yarrow or rosehips or whatever she needed to make her tinctures.
My older brother bought textbooks and was able to teach himself enough to go to college. When I was 16, he returned and told me to do the same thing.
I spent my summers bottling peaches and my winters rotating supplies. When the World of Men failed, my family would continue on, unaffected.
Psychologically, when you hear something a number of times, you start to believe it.
I didn't know if I would ever reconcile with my family, and I needed to believe that I could forgive, regardless.
Forgiveness isn't just the absence of anger. I think it's also the presence of self-love, when you actually begin to value yourself.
There's a sense of sovereignty that comes from life on a mountain.
My family always spent the warm months bottling fruit for storage, which Dad said we'd need in the Days of Abomination.
In families like mine, there is no crime worse than telling the truth.
I think it's a belief that you can learn something. That's something that I really value from the upbringing I got.