nteresting find today. I was going through my drafts and found one from a year or so old. It was a bit where, in high school, I made friends with a guy from the smoking lounge and thought that, by knowing me and playing military games with me, he’d maybe take a higher path in life. But then I went over to his house (shabby and run-down) and met his drunken, abusive father. The guy slapped the shit out of his son and then told me to get the f**k out. Which I did.

I never hung out with the guy after that. Too much embarrassment all around.

It was well-written, this piece – I’d forgotten I’d written it and felt a bit of pain from the memories. But the second part of the piece was what checked me.

I’d had to do something for a friend recently that gave me an idea of his true self. It wasn’t bad nor good, just unexpected. But like the first episode, it contained powerful emotions. And unlike the first story (with the long-lost friend from fifty years ago) this one was a guy everyone knows, and most of my friends know the story. So while the tale was powerful, there was something in it a bit… over-revealing. I think I’d written this very fine piece and had second thoughts on it then, and back-burnered it. And even now, the recent angle on it is a bit too much. It’s not my story to tell, even though that one had a happy ending.

You must realize that, not having a DOG EAR ready on Thursday morning, it was a godsend to find an already crafted blog entry, just sitting there and ready for the posting. But it didn’t feel right. So not only did I not use it, I deleted it.

This conscious, always getting in the way.

Sometimes writers have to make tough choices.

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