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I have Googled myself, yeah, I think everybody has. I try not to make a habit of it - in fact I made a rule once never to Google myself, which made me happy.

Google is my best friend and my worst enemy. It's fabulous for research, but then it becomes addictive. I'll have a character eating an orange, and next thing I'm Googling types of oranges, I'm visiting chat rooms about oranges, I'm learning the history of the orange.

I didn't binge when I was pregnant.

I've been through so much of my own self-search that I'm not as consumed with who I am as I used to be.

Life itself is the proper binge.

Eeew, I'd be a little uncomfortable Googling myself. People sit there - and Google themselves? That's kind of weird.

When in my writing lair, I have no access to the Web. Otherwise, I'm like one of those lab rats on too much sugar. To compile my Google searches would be to see my sludgy, allusive brain at work.

In my new book, 'Binge,' I share essays about everything I've never told my viewers - touching on the best and worst days of my life, some hilarious, some embarrassing, but all extremely personal.

I binge when I'm happy. When everything is going really well, every day is like I'm at a birthday party.