wordsworth defined poetry as the natural result of “emotion recollected in tranquility.” probably he would say the same of all writing. but what’s so great about tranquility? are our truths any more true at a reserve? or do we just have less invested?
sometimes words should hurt. sometimes they exist only to wound, but every once in a while they reveal what would never otherwise have been expressed. sometimes they represent the only true thing that has ever been said on a subject.
what happens when the kiss-off is the only real moment in the story? and where do you go from there?