martes, 2 de octubre de 2007


Started writing a story today in the Metro and jarred to a halt after a page or so, not because I don't know where I'm going, but because of disquiet.

This is an odd feeling that hits me whenever I touch on something "serious" in my writing. "Serious" is a lame definition for it: I can write about serious stuff as long as I feel entitled to do so, but there are certain topics that make me queasy. This particular story involves a fight between two brothers who have been brought up to embody the two sides of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. At this point, I might just scrap that part and carry on, with a more "normal" epic SF story. I just don't feel good enough to do the topic justice.

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