I’m struggling to kill the children – a statement that were I not a teller of tall tales would no doubt have my collar very robustly felt!

Context officer, context!

I’m just that, a teller of tall tales whose imagination took him down a very dark alleyway, a narrative that added to the existing tale, and then took it somewhere very nasty.

A stop over in a town to recover from a snake bite, a small town with a nasty dark secret, a town determined to protect both its ‘shame’ and the profit it generates… 

As a thread to the tale, it is a good addition, but as a subject to write I find myself in a conflict between what is ‘art’ and what is my emotional reaction to the subject matter.

I have added, deleted, and then re added these passages time after time.

The telling is good, the descriptive powerful, but the subject awful…

It’s a bizarre conflict.

I can imagine the scenario, scribble away to capture my imagination, yet sit repulsed by the results.

We do indeed suffer for our art!