I made up my mind at the beginning of my writing life not to write about my family and friends, since I want them to remain my family and friends. Others, it seems, have come to a similar conclusion. The novelist Robertson Davies was once asked why he had waited until age 60 before writing his marvelous Deptford Trilogy. There was a long pause, and then he replied, haltingly, “Well, certain people died, you see.”
No one in my known circle is dead, yet I am writing about them. Oh! I am mistaken. More than 1 person has—hm? I’m sorry. Wot?