I grew up between two ideas of what a life is supposed to be, and I've spent most of mine trying to describe the distance between them without being unfair to the people who raised me. I'm still not sure I can. That's probably where the writing comes from.
I live in Portland and I've never seriously wanted to live anywhere else. It's a city that lets you be good at something for a long time without anyone noticing, and I've made my peace with that being both the gift and the price.
I have two kids. I've been married and I've been divorced, and what I've learned from both is that love is hard and that saying so plainly is most of the work. I've been on the floor. I got up. My life has never been better than it is right now, and I say that because when you're that low you can't picture the other side, and someone should tell you it's there.
I collect things. Cards, shoes, objects that were worthless when I wanted them and aren't now. I've thought a lot about why and I've mostly stopped pretending the answer is investment. I think you keep what you had to grow into.
I don't believe in the comeback montage. I believe in the drive home, the person in the kitchen, and the thing they say back. I write from inside the mess instead of from the far side of it, which means I usually don't know how a piece ends when I start it. I've decided that's the point.