That was the second important thing that happened to me when I wrote that story. It was as if I had opened a door and stepped into a room in which all my favorite writers were sitting around waiting for me to show up. They were a disparate bunch, from Judy Blume to Edgar Allen Poe, spread over different eras, continents, and genres. Some were close kin to each other — Lord Dunsany, H.P. Lovecraft — while others seemed to have nothing in common beyond their connection to me. And somehow, I sensed, their intersection defined me. They were, in other words, my family. I derived from them, they explained me.
pages 203-204 from “Maps and Legends; Reading and Writing Along the Borderlands” by Michael Chabon (9781932416893)