Writing in this genre forces or permits, I’m not sure which, the author to crawl back into the dark catacombs of the mind and visit the things that have been shoved there by years of denial, hidden fears and personal trauma.  It was, for this author, an interesting visit.

I don’t think the people who were either drafted or volunteered to edit my stories found it as interesting; it frightened them.  It actually bothered them that a seemingly gentle and nice man would let his mind drool out this story. Among the editors were my wonderful wife, two of my great kids, a couple of friends who by the way have, for some reason, stopped calling me.  And my parents; Dad has passed but mom is still out there living life to the fullest.



Terse