Aftermath

[vaneramos]

Writing is an adventure. The problem is, if you're willing to lose control and let the characters tell their story, it takes on a life of it's own and you can't be sure where it will lead. Tonight I had in mind to write a warm tale of gentle flirtation, but what emerged tore me to pieces more than anything I've written before, even more than Trent's crisis in Pilgrim's Cross.

I have some qualms, not because of the content, but because I usually write linear narratives and this was an extreme departure. I can't guarantee Barbara will choose to read it tonight. Regardless, I'll post it here tomorrow behind a cut. I'll be interested to hear any comments.

Perhaps a long shower is in order.