He gives good advice, and I am not taking half of it. Laundry, cooking, the rounds of slave-like devotional activities. I feel like I need a vacation. I want a stick of dynamite. I want to blow up things. I want to make a new something, but all I have to work with is problems and the helpless feeling I have when I'm powerless to solve it, or the worser feeling that I solved it wrong and could have done better. And I'm not talking about writing. Sure I could go back and fix some things and make them flow better, like re-arranging the rocks in a stream. I'm talking about life.
There's something of myself in every story I write and I recognize something of the author in everything I read. I want to know these people, or I want to sneer at them, for they are not telling me a story so much as they are sharing a part of themselves and of how they view life.