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elfsAt first, I thought a setting of military chaos and horror would be a great place for a meditation on the urge for humanness in the midst of it all. Let’s face it: I write porn, and two people trying to make sense of it and live while so much dying is going on around them is good, powerful stuff. But the more I read about the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, the more I keep thinking that the backdrop is too… something. Too horrific. Too unbelievable. Too monstrous to be understood.
It’s funny; I mentioned self-censorship in a recent post, and I’ve been invited to participate in a panel on self-censorship at a small SF convention nearby. I think this might be a Yowler story I let die, just because I can’t convince myself to write a story about a desperate search for an echo of happiness set sixty miles from I Wish To Inform You That In The Morning We Will Be Killed Along With Our Families.
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