In the early 1980s, few MFA Creative Writing programs existed in this country. As a midwestern housewife and mother, lacking time or money for any writing program, I taught myself to write fiction. My “method?” First, read a story for pleasure, then fillet it sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. After that, dismantle the story’s architecture until the structure and foundation become clear. Finally, handwrite, then type, a similar or “shadow” story, followed by a dozen or more revisions. Imitation is a classic form of learning, but for me it became a pragmatic substitute for instruction I couldn’t afford.