That first novel was just an excuse for the rest of my career. You couldn't pay me to write like that again. You can't sell tickets to a personal hell.
My cup was full of blood in those days. People would stop me on the streets for hours. Needless to say, next to nothing I said made a difference. To them, I was a candle passed from hand to hand, to ward off the darkness of light and sanity. In the end, the kindest thing I could do was laugh.
It all seemed so freighted with special purpose.
I remember when she let me know that it wasn't. She told me "I suggest we keep our friendship on the same great basis that enabled us to reach the point where this even came up." Of course, she was right. We didn't have a "relationship" in the usual sense of the word.
But in another sense, every person on Earth has a relationship with every other person - even if it is only a positional relationship.
Personally, I've never found that sort of relationship very satisfying.
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