A few days ago I posted a short story called The Ledge. It was written during a particular time when I was most frustrated with my life. For most of a day, it stayed up as it was, but at lunch today I saw it needed changes. What is now posted follows a soy chai latte-induced editing flurry, likely influenced by The Road.
I think it’s interesting how we all go through some pretty bleak times. It could almost be the most bonding trait among us. It’s like we’re digging ourselves a rut we can’t get out of. But all of us can, and nearly all of us do. We take the dirt and build a mountain, and at the top it’s enormous.
When I wrote that story, I’d been digging furiously. My job made me miserable, I wasn’t doing nearly enough writing to satisfy me, and I was falling into such habits that were ruining me. And that story came naturally at the time. I wrote it in one big spurt. Soon after that I started climbing my mountain.
And now I’m nearly at the top.
