Trying. At the meeting this morning, discussion of two local parent/child heavy-duty conflicts. Inevitably, the ones that most haunt you resonate at a personal level. The need to step away after two and a half hours of various points of view – nurses, social workers, psychologists. A small town. We never mention names but everyone knows everybody else. In no time, people nod ‘ah, I see who you mean’. In the physical and mental health scale, some human behavior patterns don’t have much to recommend them.
So. Away from the maternal equivalent of a minotaur (or should I say the Venus of Willendorf’s unpleasant sister – nobody sculpted her; millennia later, she’s still resentful). Away from the Amazon, and good luck to her son (at least, he’s not on my watch.)
Does any of this inspire a burning desire to write? No. It inspires a desire to savor well-assembled stories. It inspires the desire to find as much pleasure in my own writing as I possibly can.