Picking Through the Dark Meat (Or, How I Didn’t Know I Wrote an Anthology)

Writing is hard.

To sit down at keyboard or notepad and write a book, screenplay, short story, or poem is to open up a secret part of oneself and spill it all over the table in front of you. It grinds at the soul and gnaws at your innards. It ACHES. But it can be a salve on old wounds, a weightless flight, or a torturous journey at the end of which you are a better person for having lived it.

I didn’t set out to write an anthology. (The same goesthe anthology before it.) So why am I now relea...