Back in 2000, after I moved to Washington D.C. and found myself in a cold, dark, hobbit-hole of a cubicle three stories underground making copies, I filled my ample free-time by emailing my then boyfriend Andy back in College Station. When the stories of summiting snow drifts to get to the Metro and forcefully shrink-wrapping my dry-cleaned sheets by order of my nuerotic roommate became old news, I switched to telling him stories. Candlestick Maker and the Devil was one of these stories, written over the course of a few months, each paragraph a one-email installment.
Writing that story kept me going in the dead of my first real winter, far from my friends and family. I looked forward to getting to work each morning, because after my menial morning tasks were finished, I got to write Frederick's next move. That small expression of creativity and having a willing reader was fabulous SADD therapy and led to a pretty fun, albeit random, short story - if I do say so myself.
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