When I was ten or eleven I read this series of children’s books in Urdu featuring a boy who travels with snake charmers and has a pet snake. He and his snake have many adventures. Subsequently I dreamed about becoming besties with a snake or two for years. I’ve been fascinated by them ever since. The Indian subcontinent, of course, has many myths about snakes who assume human shape after a hundred years. I wanted to write a story about that. The research and details naturally followed.

I wanted Miriam to outgrow her mother, to come to the realization that her mother’s dictates are entirely arbitrary and based on some drama that has no basis in reality except in her mother’s mind. The problem is that when you finally shed someone else’s storyline, something you have been living within your entire life, what do you replace it with?

This is kind of weird, but I have these half-waking anxiety dreams about spiders descending from the ceiling onto me while I’m sleeping, to the point where I wake up in a panic, convinced there is actually a spider in my bed. So you’ll see spiders appear here and there in my fiction, although I wouldn’t say I’m arachnophobic, exactly. It’s just really creepy when they’re dangling on their threads, tiny legs working . . . ugh!