My family, when we were together over Christmas. I reminded them it’s only my first book; what did they expect?
If you could read your book to anyone in the world, who would it be?
My grandmother, if she were still living. We would sit at her kitchen table and I’d read to her, short bits, just as she used to dictate to me. For years, I was her scrivener. One afternoon every week, I wrote letters for her. She had terrible arthritis and it pained her to write.