As for me, I've chosen to follow a simple course: Come clean. And wherever possible, live your life in a way that won't leave you tempted to lie. Failing that, I'd rather be disliked for who I truly am than loved for who I am not. So, I tell my story. I write it down. I even publish it. Sometimes this is a humbling experience. Sometimes it's embarrassing. But I haul around no terrible secrets.

For 25 years, I did take my responsibilities as a pleaser of others sufficiently seriously.

The portrait of my parents is a complicated one, but lovingly drawn.

Those who rhapsodize about the ease and joy of childhood have perhaps forgotten what it's like to be 12 years old.

I continued to protect him with my silence.

It troubles me that people speak about writing for money as ugly and distasteful.

I had known there had been a serial killer on Mount Tamalpais, and it felt so incongruous in such a beautiful, peaceful spot.