Start with truth and wait for fiction to reveal itself. Punch it up. Tenderize the truth. Add a dash of Hunter Thompson’s brains. Scraped off the wall. Drizzle with some mescaline. Garnish with spent casings and discarded drafts. What you get is mostly pulp, spiked and unsweetened. Distill with caution.

Nikita Linivenko hates writing bios in the third person.