I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

When I was growing up in the 1960s, there was starting to be more books geared towards young adults.

Self-published media are really critical. It's so heartwarming that people are still doing it in this digital age. It's just really moving and exciting. You can't really replace a beautiful little mini-comic. It doesn't translate to the computer, you know? Handmade stuff has really given me hope for humanity.

I'd been upstaged, demoted from protagonist in my own drama to comic relief in my parents' tragedy

What would happen if we spoke the truth?

Who embalms the Undertaker when he dies?

Nancy Drew was always changing her outfits. I despised girls' clothing, I couldn't wait to get home from school and get out of it. The last thing I wanted to read was minute descriptions of Nancy's frocks.