It was late. Her maroon kitten heels pounded against the sidewalk, her stride tested the limits of her pencil skirt. There was no time to dawdle. She had to get to the oddities shop before it closed. She needed another tarot reading.

Real, live people from other realms come to me. The first time it happened, I was a kid—seventh grade, I think?

I don't even really understand anything I've done until I've done it. What's more I can't see its value until I write about it.

If writers are lucky, their writing will be the seance, their keystrokes—the ouija board.