Read An Exclusive Excerpt From I’ve Had To Think Up A Way To Survive: On Trauma, Persistence, and Dolly Parton

I’ve been handcuffed and placed in the back of a police car exactly once in my life. I was fifteen, it was December 1988. My friend Kimmy and I were on a street in Hollywood when we should have been in school. We were being goofy kids, laughing about something, feeling happy just to be alive, despite everything, in a way only a kid can. We somehow, despite the shit, hadn’t shaken the wonder. Kimmy was a year or two older than me; we’d met in drug rehab. She’d been selling sex for a while. We were not dressed like… Read Full Article