If I think of a story as something that has to convey a certain message, as a train that has to pull into a certain station at a certain time, and myself as the stressed-out engineer trying to make that happen—it’s too much. I freeze up and no fun is had. But if I imagine myself as a sort of genial carnival barker, trying to usher you into my magical black box, the workings of which even I don’t fully understand—that, I can do. “What’s going to happen to me in there?” you ask. “I really don’t know,” I say, “but I promise I’ve done my best to make it thrilling and non-trivial.” “Will there be
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