the sexorcist

Growing up, after buying coney dogs and flurries from the independent ice cream shop up the road from where we lived and across the street from where we went to middle school, my sister and I would bike over to Kay’s Books, a small, dingy little place filled with love for words, and we would spend the rest of our allowance on comics, Archie for her and Spiderman for myself. The comics were located right up front, and just off to the side was the Romance section. I liked to laugh at the cheesy covers featuring illustrations of that guy from the butter commercials and the equally cheesy titles. Who read this stuff? As I began to write myself, I thought, who wrote this stuff? Don’t people want to write about big ideas, about great philosophical conflict? Continue reading →