For me, writing goes in fits and starts. Over the past 10 years or so I have started several novels (finished none) taken various workshops, scribbled and dreamed. I think it comes from the realiziation that in my head, I’m always living in other worlds. And because I’m a history buff, I’m often dreaming in the past and when I’m walking around a city or a town - whether it’s NYC or somewhere on my travels, I can’t help but think of “ghosts” and imagine the lives and stories of the people who were here before and breathed life into the place. So the writing comes from these strange obsessions but then something wonderful happens: when you’ve actually created something with your words, there’s a joy that can’t be matched.

I don’t think that time is a linear phenomenon…we experience it that way sometimes, but when something really important goes down, something that cuts to the bone, time stretches to fit that huge moment.