Barry used to have this futon in his basement where his kids watched TV and somehow the cord to the space heater got caught under one of the futon legs and frayed, and sometimes when you’d sit on the futon, you’d get a shock. Not enough to do any real damage, and not every single time, but enough to make you pay attention and worry for your safety. To hear him describe it, it was kind of dangerous and awful and exciting all at the same time, like your first date or your first mammogram, or that time someone convinced you to go ahead and pick it up, the mousetrap wasn’t going to snap.
That’s kind of the tone of the story I’m working on now. I wrote the first draft quickly for me, and now, in revision, I’m trying not to lose the adrenaline-fueled energy of it while still harnessing it into something that makes sense and has a point. We’ll see how it goes. Here’s to keeping some of the fizzle and not burning the house down.