I saw her standing in the checkout line the other day. She was wearing a black leather jacket, and the pair of Vuarnet’s I’d given her for her 35th birthday. Her dark hair was messy, and there was an air of do-not-care about her as she waited her turn with a container of yogurt, [...]

A finished story isn’t meant to stay pristine and isolated — it’s meant to get dog-eared, creased, bookmarked, and highlighted. It’s meant to get dirtied by critiques, loved by some readers, hated by others, passed around, or given away.

Then, in my childhood in the dawn
Of a most stormy life was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still . . .
–Edgar Allan Poe, Alone

1. The Meaning of Things
I’ve never lost my childhood sense of mystification – my ability to be amazed by the intricate puzzles and foggy [...]

When I close my eyes, I see the dresses and the gowns. The paper dolls and the Barbie dolls; the pretty bows that tied me down. Then I see my face, staring down at my shiny shoes. . .they took me to a place where they gave me pink instead of blue.” [...]