Kip is still one of my best friends. When you have a shared experience with someone who showed you some kindness when you needed it most, it sticks with you.

I couldn't see beyond the walls of our apartment or the few miles between home and school. Every day was about getting through it. Every weekend was about getting back to school, where there could be some structure and my routines.

We had this time. We had this little bit of time together for being honest. It felt sharp and finite, like it could end any second without warning. "I know you want me to be different than I am," I said. "But you could have helped me be more of what you wanted by actually talking to me. Telling me things.

Stuff happens to most people. One thing going wrong, I mean. One family member missing a chance to help. One who cuts you off. One person with her own shit to deal with. One of those things isn't enough to send you falling through the cracks. But all of them together, they accumulate. An abandoned mother here. A missing uncle there. A disappearing father 2 generations back. A friendship broken by fear or mistrust or addiction. Genes that make you vulnerable to certain problems. Two children who aren't loved right meeting up when they're not really adults yet and having 2 more children who aren't loved right. It adds up. It all adds up.

Family or love or romance, whatever it is, is not restricted to perfect people. If it were, it wouldn't exist. All of that comes out in my work in some way.

I'm not really a plot writer - I'm more interested in the characters and sort of small events that propel the story forward.