At the risk of sounding somber, the most unexpected transformation in this story came from an unexpected loss in my own life. I was deep into revising this story and its themes of grief—specifically, Eve’s grief over her beloved father’s sudden death—when my own beloved father died suddenly of a heart attack. It was a complete shock, and I was reeling. My incredibly kind and gracious team, including my agent, Alli, and editor, April, made sure I knew that if I needed to step away from this project for a while, I could. I thought about it, and almost decided to hit the pause button. But writing is how I make my way through the world. It’s how I sort through everything—good, bad, or devastating.

"There are dark days when we’re tempted to make monsters, but hopefully, ultimately, we’re stepping into the light and moving toward joy. Even if we stumble along the way, we’ll get there."

Especially as I began seeing firsthand how uncomfortable our society is with grief, I decided I needed to stay the course with this story. I wanted more than ever to ensure the representation of sorrow was authentic. Some of the revisions informed by my own experience made Eve more unlikeable in some moments, which was hard and honest and raised the stakes. Every fragile relationship in the book, every bad choice Eve makes that is driven by her loss and loneliness, became all the more relatable. The whole thing felt more believable—monster and all.

While deepening the story’s themes of grief, though, it was critical to me that this book didn’t become a downer. Sure, Eve’s got some stuff to work through, but I never wanted the novel to lose its humor, its heart, or its hope. Holding on to those values remained really important to me in my own life, and in this story. There are dark days when we’re tempted to make monsters, but hopefully, ultimately, we’re stepping into the light and moving toward joy. Even if we stumble along the way, we’ll get there.

Golems are interesting figures, sometimes serving as beloved protectors of Jewish communities, other times eliciting fear with their unbridled strength. How did you weigh these two aspects of the golem’s mythology as you wrote your story?

I love this question, because I thought about this so much while writing the story. It’s such a delicate balance: figuring out how to stand up for ourselves without becoming what we despise. As I researched and wrote this novel, it became clear to me that the reason golems are protectors that also elicit fear is because they are essentially mirrors, reflecting back to us our own potential and our own peril. Any of us are capable of being wonderful, loyal protectors—but also, we all run the risk of taking things too far.

Without giving too much away (no spoilers!), that’s where I hope the tension exists when it comes to the golem’s role in this story. Is he a force for good, or a reckless bodyguard? Is he ultimately more helpful or harmful? Will we recognize it when we—or our creation—crosses a line? And if that happens, how do we set things right?

When it comes to dating, what would you say is the biggest green flag—as well as biggest red flag—of your novel’s brilliantly named clay stud, Paul Mudd?

Biggest green flag: Paul Mudd wants nothing more than to keep you safe. He will protect you, help you with all your heavy lifting, and seek your consent in all things.

Biggest red flag: He’s a literal monster, with no soul, autonomy, or actual personality. He’s a hot bot brought to life, basically; even as he begins acquiring language, it’s an AI-style trick. Long story short: While he looks amazing in denim and flannel, you should definitely swipe left on Paul Mudd.