When I write about my life, I'm on the look-out for odd characters; strange behavior is a gift. I often think of Kristen Wiig, who has described a run-in with an eccentric Target lady. ("I knew, right then, that this would be my ticket to a paycheck--over and over...") It's easy to write about my kids because they are frequently making such odd choices (throwing crowded rooms into pitch-black darkness, standing silently and appearing unmoved through a Hanukkah concert "debut," flirting blatantly with the gastroenterologist). The greatest gift to me was a shitty contractor, who would text me about his prolonged bouts with diarrhea, his tiredness and sadness, his unfortunate failure to avoid sticking a large nail into his own eye. For me, the gold mine is a sense of ambivalence; you must be able to feel compassion for the person you are describing, but if you also have a "counter-narrative" of pure exasperation, this is fine material. Grace Paley s...