There's a certain nostalgia and romance in a place you left.

At one level you're condemned to the voice you have. But within those confines, you have a certain amount of freedom to range among your possible voices.

Hemingway said the only way to write about a place is to leave it.

It doesn't matter who you are, how many awards you've won, how popular you are, or how much critical acclaim you've had.

When it comes time to sit down and write the next book, you're deathly afraid that you're not up to the task. That was certainly the case with me after Snow Falling on Cedars.

The real question is: How do you react? What do you do next? Evade responsibilities? Bury yourself in work? What do you do? All three of my novels take up that question, although none gives an answer.