In Mary Clearman Blew’s essay “The Art of Memoir,” she considers the telling of her ancestor’s stories. How much is really her own projection, and what bearing does that have on the “rightness” of telling? She sticks to what she knows has happened, at least the told or documented versions, and declares it when she is speculating. And yet, she acknowledges that all stories are dependent on their shape, and it is she who crafts that shape. I listen to stories and read stories. I observe stories and take part in stories in the making. And I keep busy finding the shape of those stories. It is all part of understanding this place and finding my place in it.