I never felt like I belonged in Minnesota when I was growing up there. That’s why I was out the door as soon as I turned 18.

If I had to start over, I’d pursue photography – probably to the exclusion of acting.

There’s something magical still about it when I get in a darkroom, and you’ve shot a roll of film and you develop it and you look at your negatives, and there’s, like, imagery there. That always stuns me.

If I didn’t have children I’d be a much better actress. I wouldn’t be so distracted. I could pour 100 percent of my energies into it, to promote the investigation which acting is.

I’ve never been a sunny personality. I’ve never been outgoing. I’m a solitary person.

For me, acting was always a way to explore emotions – to dip into the well and really try to reach rock bottom down there. That was the most exciting part of it. I hadn’t found anything that really allowed me to do that until I came upon acting.

TV is sort of the only way to go for an actress my age to make a decent salary; with independent films, you just can’t.

Sometimes the odds are against you-the director doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, or something falls apart in the production, or you’re working with an actor who’s just unbearable.

There was that feminist myth that we can do everything. I don’t think you can.

The only place I’ve felt was really my home is my cabin up north. There’s something in the water there that connects me to that place. There’s also this sense of isolation and loneliness about it that I’ve never been able to shake.