I wish I could bring myself to blog, I really do. And then I did. Because things were a’changing. Matthew Kabik, the Pa Gothic writer who I’d been friends with, who I started a writing group with, announced casually on Twitter that he had been sharing with another writing group. Explosion #2.

What was explosion #1? The genre writer of the group, Zachary Woodard, resigned. He’d brought perspective I’d enjoyed. He’d didn’t care if my story had deeper meaning, an experimental prose–what he wanted was to enjoy what he read–every line. There’s something honest to that, which will be missed. Of course, he could appreciate writing no matter the classification if it were worth a spit, but who would now tell me how to describe a sword? There’s more to his loss, but honestly I find it hard to talk about.

And, I get it. No hard feelings. He didn’t like a schedule. Some writers do well with the pressure. That’s how they like to work, with a deadline. He wasn’t one of them. Or maybe there’s a worse truth, maybe our deadline didn’t seem important or worth it to him.

Oh well. Explosion #1.

But other things have been changing–for the good.

I’m not afraid of clowns anymore, for one thing.