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For Amusement's Sake
Aug. 15th, 2011 09:31 pmSo. A million, billion years ago (or...one year) I wrote and self-published a collection of nine short stories. I am pretty sure all of them are crap. I decided to post a random one tonight because I am clearly in need of sleep and want to do something that I'll regret in the morning.
But the story is a true one, as far as I know. My mother told it to me when I was a little girl (the nurse in the story is based on her). Things have obviously been changed, and while I'm not proud of the craft, I am proud of the story itself. Not that I have any right to be.
Warning: This story deals with WWII-era themes, concentration camps, segregation, loneliness, etc. Do not read if you're triggered by such things.
And that is the end of that. Since the books are obviously not going to sell, I may just shrug it off and post all of the stories here, every so often. It's interesting to see how much I've changed as a writer, and how much I haven't. I definitely think I've gotten stronger since I wrote this piece, though. But I've never been a good self-critic.
But the story is a true one, as far as I know. My mother told it to me when I was a little girl (the nurse in the story is based on her). Things have obviously been changed, and while I'm not proud of the craft, I am proud of the story itself. Not that I have any right to be.
Warning: This story deals with WWII-era themes, concentration camps, segregation, loneliness, etc. Do not read if you're triggered by such things.
( Cut for length and warning. )
And that is the end of that. Since the books are obviously not going to sell, I may just shrug it off and post all of the stories here, every so often. It's interesting to see how much I've changed as a writer, and how much I haven't. I definitely think I've gotten stronger since I wrote this piece, though. But I've never been a good self-critic.
