I don't think I look like the pope's favorite Catholic - at least not under close scrutiny.
As a memoirist, I strive for veracity.
I've never contended that I had a really horrible life.
Your heart, Mary Karr, he'd say. His pen touched my sternum, and it felt for all the world like the point of a dull spear as he said, Your heart knows what your head don't. Or won't.
Nobody sounds good writing about your divorce, let's face it.
The words and sentences you take into your body from books are no less sacred and healing than communion. Surely at least one such person lives in your zip code.