A Kind of Therapy.

The first draft of the new short story is now done (it took a couple of days for it to tell me how it wanted to end.) The next job will be a comprehensive edit of the whole thing.

I didn’t think I would write any more stories. I thought that all I had in me were now written down and an episode of my life was closed. The thing is, though, the last couple haven’t been straightforward pieces of fiction, as those in the main body of the canon are, but allegories.

And the good thing about writing an allegory is this: when the over-fed form of the unfriendlier side of life has you pinned in the mire with its knee on your chest, at least turning the experience into an allegory makes something creative out of it. And that helps you breathe a little more easily.