Some people lie awake worrying about paying their taxes (I don't - the govt takes mine automatically); some people lie awake worrying about their mortgages (I used to do that - I've resigned myself to that curse); others lie awake worrying about family members - I'm that one except, in the past three years my 'family' has grown to include not just my hubby, children, mother and siblings but the created ones as well.
As a parent, I think about how to raise my children to become the best type of citizens that fits with the way God created them. But, sometimes, life (as in the bad part of 'life') reaches in its big fat hairy hand and rips the guts out of all you had put together to allow them to go on and enjoy happiness.
The irony is, a writer does that all the time. We do. We are mean. Nasty. Horrible to the fictional characters we love. We are like the boss in Katherine Mansfield's The Fly, waiting until the hero has scrapped off all the crap life has dropped on it, waiting until he or she is free to test drive key faculties then WHAM down goes another blob.
Yup. Mean as.
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