Dear Mr. Logsdon...

I almost never read nonfiction, so I was thinking about taking the easy way out and writing about a fiction author. Then - I remembered that there is one nonfiction writer I read every single day: Abigail Van Buren (a.k.a. Dear Abby). Abby may not have the most distinguished style, but I can always count on enjoying her column. Each morning, I read the comics in the Herald Leader, and then I move on to Dear Abby. The people who write to her are so screwed up, her column is like a train wreck that you can’t look away from. I know that is a horrible reason to love an author… but it’s the truth. People send her absolutely crazy stories, and it is weirdly fascinating that some people have lives like that and that they trust a stranger to give them advice for their biggest problems. Also, I can think about how good I have it; my father is not also my brother, my mother and I are not fighting over the same guy, and I’m not the other woman in an affair. And that’s always a plus.