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I practically lived in the woods when I was a kid, avoiding grown-ups and my dysfunctional family, pretending I was half-wolf, a feral child who napped in nests made out of ferns, ate wild blueberries, and wove sticks and feathers into her hair.

My parents were brutal to each other, so I slept in the basement by an old coal-fired furnace. I became a street kid. Occasionally, I'd live with aunts or uncles, then I'd run away to live in the woods, trapping and hunting game to survive. The wilderness pulled at me; still does.

I was a feral child. Always on the go. My mother used to sew bells into my dresses so they would know where I was.

I grew up in the countryside in the middle of nowhere in England and got out as soon as I could!

For about two years, I was a little wild. I was out partying, having adventures.

I got two older brothers and two younger sisters, and we grew up in the country, and we were a little feral. So as long as the car didn't end up in the rhubarb and you didn't get caught for doing whatever you were doing, you were fine.

I lived in Paris for six months when I was sixteen. It was a fend-for-yourself environment.

I was raised on Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly and discovered the Stray Cats when I was 11 or 12 years old.

I had one of the most outdoorsy childhoods you could imagine. I basically lived in the woods until I was 13. My dad and I built a huge treehouse in our backyard in Chesterfield, about 30 feet in the air. And we'd vacation on an island in Michigan, where I hunted a deer that we ate.