Morning comes like a scream through a pinhole.

Every part of my body felt electric. My chest ached and my head throbbed with the great terrible limitless possibility of the morning, and when it came, the sky was washed white, everything was new, and I hadn't slept at all.

I can remember exactly where I sat when my teacher first read Roald Dahl's 'James and the Giant Peach'.

Why did we do that to Pluto? We had it good with Pluto.

McSweeney's as a publishing company is built on a business model that only works when we sell physical books. So we try to put a lot of effort into the design and production of the book-as-object.

But while mum and dad were incredibly caring, it was also a very chaotic household where everyone fought about everything. So I know what it's like to internalize all that chaos.

Through the small tall bathroom window the December yard is gray and scratchy, the tree calligraphic.