American in Finland Christopher Ryan profiles four fellow expatriates and their conjugal sessions.

Algonquin’s marketing director assigns REM song titles to future books.

Mr. Sheffield was worried that little white lie on his resume might come back to haunt him.

What’s up, Morrison?

Not much. Had a reading last night. I’m eating gluten-free almond cookies and some kind of tea that claims to be able to balance my hormones. Or my chakras. Or, wait—maybe both. I didn’t look very closely at the box.

Are you feeling balanced?

Well—no. That’s why I’m drinking the damn tea!

Do those teas really work?

Sure, if you’re prone to suggestion, which I am. I’m the perfect candidate for the placebo effect. If you told me that eating a copy of Anna Karenina would make me the world’s greatest living writer, I would do it, and then, I swear to God, I would write some seriously awesome shit. Those less susceptible would merely shit some seriously awesome writing.

Anderson wishes his coming out had involved more dancing in sexy overalls.

Every artist is an entrepreneur; every entrepreneur is an artist. Both learn how to cry.

American-alien-in-Finland Christopher Ryan loosens his vowels as he attempts to learn one of the world’s most difficult languages.

Why society celebrates disaster to feel triumphant.

When Heinlein and her husband bought an old house in Queens, they were catapulted back to infancy.