Once upon a time…
No, this isn’t that kind of a story. That kind of story implies a happily-ever-after ending, and magical middle, and a cozy snuggle while someone reads it aloud to you. What about the other kind of story, where the author’s heart-blood lies upon the page and you can feel the emotion?
I never meant to write horror. Honestly, when asked I deny I have done so, but fans have informed me that at least two of my stories are horror. One of them I meant to be about a woman gaining new hope and a beginning, the other… my mentor told me that the best stories came from metaphorically opening a vein onto the page. I pondered that, and paired it with something I had meant to do for a long time but lacked the courage, and wrote the story.
There are times I think I don’t feel, or write, emotion the way other people do. I suspect it’s partly being Odd, and that those of us who identify that way share this awkwardness with the concept of gut-wrenching emotion: is it too much? or not enough?