I’ve written about writers in my fiction, and I’ve written about the act of writing in nonfiction, but I still don’t understand it. I don’t even understand why people need stories, or why I—among many others—feel the need to write them. All I know is that the exhilaration of leaving ordinary day-to-day life behind and bonding with people who don’t exist seems to be a part of almost every life. Imagination is hungry, and needs to be fed.
