I think a good number of my colleagues would empathize with my contention that being good chums with a writer can be a difficult proposition.

Authors, like most artists, tend to be egocentric, driven, indifferent to the feelings of those closest to them...in short, real bastards.

I've just discussed this at greater length over at Beautiful Desolation.

It was a hard essay to write and I had to confront some of my least appealing traits, flaws and fissures in my character that run very deep.

Sometimes confession can be good for the soul; on other occasions, it hurts like hell...