Short Stories

The offerings in this section should be considered drafts although they reached their present form a long time ago. They are drafts because I never feel that I finish anything I write and, when I read over things that I have written, I invariably end up changing something provided I am not too lazy to do so. 

Oftentimes, I am too lazy to do so. Because writing, at least for me, is exhausting and, as it were, somewhat of a bummer. It was Dorothy Parker who said it best: “I hate writing, I love having written.”

I have always written and I have always had problems doing so. I have thought on occasion that I might have been good at it, but since I never feel like I finish anything, that issue has never been settled. I recognize my limits quite easily in my other artistic pursuits, but I have no idea how good of a writer I could have been if I didn’t feel like collapsing mentally and emotionally any time I write a paragraph or two. If you can imagine holding a dozen wild horses by their reins you have an idea of what writing feels like to me. Nothing ever stays put - the ideas and the words that compose them start off in all directions at once, the strongest dragging me in one direction until another takes the initiative. I can’t control them. They beat me every time.

Had I devoted myself more to practice - made a discipline of writing - things might have been better. But who knows? Perhaps I would only have bred stronger horses.

The short stories in this section were mostly written some time ago. The last story written was “The Gauntlet” which I have worked on off and on for ten years. Unfortunately, I still think of it as a draft. But I need to get on with my life.