I lied my way through my twenties. It was the only way I could have managed. If you'd ever been to my small town and had a curried-chicken dinner at our best restaurant, you'd know that high-society types are rare there. So I lied.
I took off to London, then to Morocco and then to Spain. I made up stories about my family, my experiences as a child vacationing on our boat. People bought them without question, never knowing that I was born in a landlocked village smack in the middle of North America. It was a great feeling Read more