A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Five-Hundred-And-Forty-Five

My therapist finished reading that story and we discussed it today.  In truth, I don't know that she had much to say, though it seemed like she appreciated and enjoyed it.  I don't know that she really was interested in it, of course, as a piece of fiction, but was more looking at it from a different lens, as material that impacts her understanding of me, I suppose.  I don't think she is interested in using it as a specific tool for analyzing me, more that it is another bit of information, another glimpse at something.  She said one very interesting thing, commenting that it helped her to understand why I feel such a strong need for a reader, recognizing the way in which the work is somewhat reliant upon the reader as a collaborator, in a sense.  The metaphor which I offered is thinking of it somewhat like dehydration, where the reader is kind of adding in that missing element to restore the piece to what it needs to be.  I should ask her how she felt about the way that the story ended, as that is my biggest question, but I don't know that she is the person to comment on it in that regard.

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