After my mother died, I wanted to make things. I’m a writer, so that meant books

and stories and zines, but I wanted to make things I wasn’t any good at making, too. Sometimes it’s sad not to have a mother, but for me it also means not having anyone who will say, “that’s not good enough—you really shouldn’t try to do things you have no talent for, Ariel.”

So I started drawing little cartoon pictures, too. And making food. Lots of food. No one said my drawings looked professional or anything, but they said they made them feel like maybe they could try to draw something, too. And no one said I should open a restaurant or anything, but they came over and we shared some nice pie.