The narrator is driven to pursue her passion, but often our passions and the mundane need to make a living refuse to align. The termite lab is a space for dreams just fallen short. It’s close to the mark but still misses the heart.

I love a haunted house story. And I always think about how if I were in a haunted house I would be like “okay, we can cohabitate in this space, there’s no need to be hostile.” So, for example, say a door weirdly pops open in my apartment, I’m always “oh, hey,” just in case someone’s there.

I’m interested in stories that excavate disgust and shame. I’ve always found those emotions very fascinating, to read and feel, to elicit in others through my writing. I find to go there, to write about whatever abnormal, unpleasant, secret, shameful thing, feels vulnerable and risky. I’m often very impressed by writers who do it.

Sometimes we, as people, are hesitant to use tools of oppressors to eliminate said oppression. Often, we try to take an ethical or moral “high road” to distance ourselves from such oppressors. We don’t want to use extreme means to reach our ends, even if we truly believe those ends are noble or just.