Visiting the Precipice

I just got back from a play in which a mother kills her child and then kills herself. I found the conclusion satisfying. It made sense for the character’s arc. But most of all I found the “perversion” of such acts deeply satisfying. I enjoy the “fucked up shit”. There is a reason I surgicallyContinue reading “Visiting the Precipice”

Fiction and (Not) Reality

Tonight at the monthly Colorado Springs Writers Reading Series, I had the privilege of reading “The Racehorse” in the company of some very fine and very generous writers who shared their work as well. Before reading I asked the audience if anyone liked horses or horse-racing. About half a dozen hands went up and aContinue reading “Fiction and (Not) Reality”