In the land of fiction, women are too often cast as inherently good--typically kind, always considerate, and traditionally in possession of high morals. Not so in the recklessly audacious stories in Waiting for the Cyclone. A mother in need of rehabilitation, a wife who wakes up in the arms of a man who isn't her husband, a young woman who comes face-to-face with a bully from years ago. These women don't need to be liked, do not comply to set expectations, and are not compelled to make apologies. These women, and a dozen more, are perfectly imperfect.