I think a little menace is fine to have in a story. For one thing, it's good for the circulation.

Don’t complain, don’t explain.

Something’s died in me,” she goes. “It took a long time for it to do it, but it’s dead. You’ve killed something, just like you’d took an axe to it. Everything is dirt now.

My circumstances of unrelieved responsibility and permanent distraction necessitated the short story form.

Write about what you know, and what do you know better than your own secrets?

I’d like to go out in the front yard and shout something. “None of this is worth it!” That’s what I’d like people to hear.

I guess my writing has changed as my life has.