Damn. Four o’clock in the morning. Last revision in place in the magazine, ready to go. Six full hours of sleep and listening to the steady drone of the rain, the occasional click of the coffee pot heating, cooling, reheating. One last proofreading. One last scan.
Then the story unravels, the times, the spaces, the clashes as they meet, retreat, go their own way. But I have no right to hold up production. Nor can I hold back the stories. The roads are building, the directions clear. Oh Lord, why now, why only now?
Decisions. Paths. Links.
UPDATE: Dilemna over. The path taken is the only morally sound one; not holding up something for selfish reasons, and for selfish reasons alone–giving the creative work its due time and effort.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology