Magical Realism

By James Hessler

I entered the dimly lit convention hall, fearing who I might encounter. I found the breakfast layout, poured a cup of coffee and loaded a plate with scone and fruit. I felt out of place, late to the game. I’d had a career in public education, served as a conscript in Vietnam, and had another career in a technology company. Even with three essays published and a completed memoir, I felt like an imposter. But I was looking for a path to get my memoir published, and this writ...