I came up with a story and I wrote it.

It's the fantasy of first love. If you've been married for 400 years, as I have, it's nice to experience first love again and you can vicariously through a book. And it is such a fantasy. It takes you away from doing the dishes and the laundry. I think of this as a contemporary romance rather than erotic fiction.

I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.

I think women love to read love stories.

I think virgins are far more interesting to write about. If we've been around the block a few times, we know what to expect. Not so with virgins.

Men aren't really complicated. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they've said, when really it's obvious.

Never trust a man who can dance.

I've set the bar quite high in terms of storytelling.

Don't get your panties in such a twist... and give me back mine.

I do not look at the world in terms of black and white - and I find people who do rather scary. I think it's all shades of grey.

All a writer wants is to be read, and people are so flattering and lovely. I mean, there are witches out there as well. But most are so kind.

A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.

If you've been married for 400 years, as I have, it's nice to experience first love again and you can vicariously through a book.

Once you're in charge of your job, your house, your children, getting the food on the table, doing all of this, all of the time, it'd be nice for someone else to be in charge for a bit maybe.

Language evolves and moves on. It is an organic thing. It is not stuck in an ivory tower, hung with expensive works of art.