As a writer, I’m always fascinated by other writers’ stories of whose work affected them and how. The other day, I came across a man named Markham Lee’s reflections on how his first experiences with reading Edgar Allan Poe affected him (I’m especially loving that he’s nailed the whole prevalent theme of guilt and it is this undercurrent which affects him today—I was tempted to write him and note that I, too, was forbidden from scary movies, rock music and swearing when I was a kid and look where I am now.). I loved this heartfelt, honest essay so much I’m sharing the link here. Why? It’s a great reminder that my job as a writer is always to touch, or change, a reader. And on the day I read this, I happened to need that reminder.