Second thoughts

I’ve been trying to write something the last few days that’s somewhat out of character. It kind of defies description: it’s fiction, but is semi-autobiographical; it’s a short story, but is primarily a set of barely-germinated stories; and it’s allegorical but true to history.

In its current form, the piece will never see the light of phosphor. The semi-autobiographical parts are still way too close to the mark for my liking, and unfortunately they’re what unifies the rest of the jumble.

It’s my first attempt at creating anything of this sort in ages, and it’s the first thing I’ve ever really been inspired to write. It might even be good, although I don’t hold out much hope–there’s little in it that would be of interest to anyone not living inside my brain. (My friend Kym points out that I put myself down a lot, and she’s right as usual. She kindly fails to notice that it’s with good reason.)

Certain sections will appear here shortly anyway. They will appear unrelated, and that’s because they are; they’ll be ripped verbatim with no framing structure at all, save for a relation to the latter part of this quote.