I made myself a rule: write out of love. And when you love somebody, you have to tell the truth about who they are—not the cute “truth” in your head of who they are, the one where you did everything right and they did everything wrong.

That story is harder that you think, or at least it was for me. And it’s much harder to do when you’re writing about your life, than when you’re writing fiction. (It’s appalling truth, how we can be more generous with made-up people than with real ones.)