The Way To My Heart Is Through

Goodbye, Room." I Wave Up At Skylight. "say Goodbye," I Tell Ma. "goodbye, Room." Ma Says It But On Mute. I Look Back One More Time. It's Like A Crater, A Hole Where Something Happened. Then We Go Out The Door.

My Mother Was Wonderfully Out About Her Dementia. She Would Sort Of - She Would Say To Me, I Came Out To The Window Cleaner About Having Dementia. You Know, I Love The Way That Verb For Coming Out Of The Closet Has Now Become So Socially Useful For All Sorts Of Situations, Like When You Need To Explain To The Window Cleaner That You Don't Know If You Paid Him Or Not.

Stories Are A Different Kind Of True.

You're Meant To Have An Unhappy Childhood To Be A Writer, But There's A Lot To Be Said For A Very Happy One That Just Let's You Get On With It.

In The Publishing World, Most Editors Are Probably Women. So I Don't See The Publishing World As A Male-dominated One, Especially Within Fiction.