You don't know when you're twenty-three. You don't know what it really means to crawl into someone else's life and stay there. You can't see all the ways you're going to get tangled, how you're going to bond skin to skin. How the idea of separating will feel in five years, in ten - in fifteen. When Georgie thought about divorce now, she imagined lying side by side with Neal on two operating tables while a team of doctors tried to unthread their vascular systems. She didn't know at twenty-three.
He didn't take her breath away. Maybe the opposite. But that was okay-that was really good, actually, to be near someone who filled your lungs with air.
I've never loved the name "Rainbow" - it seems like a name you'd give to your stuffed unicorn - but I really like having an unusual name. It stands out. And it made me feel like it was okay to stand out. To be different.
If I had an author superpower, I would like to have the ability to stop time for everyone else. I feel like I have to disappear into myself to write books. I go away, into my head, for hours and weeks at a time, and I hate that I miss everything. It's pretty selfish to want to pause other people, isn't it?
I think as an author you have to allow a movie to be separate from the book. It's an entirely different animal. I almost never mind when a movie changes or cuts something - as long as it helps the film work better.