The luxury of writing these was in rarely knowing how they'd turn out. In comedy, which I like to think of as my gift, the plot must be in hand from the beginning. But I had time to kill and a yen to experiment, and these little monsters are the result.
"Revenge," for example, is my reconstruction of a news story that for weeks had Athenians debating the killer's guilt. He's still in jail.
"The Kiss" won the short-story prize in The European and is shamelessly romantic. One has these moods.
"Steel Man" was my very first published story, and some of my friends think I've been on the wrong track ever since. The stage version had a public reading at the Lincoln Square Studio Theatre in New York, a full production at John Houseman's Studio Theatre there, and a public reading at FirstStage in Hollywood.
With "The Feet-Eaters" (The Southeastern Review) I faced my ruling fetish.
And "Basic Confidence" (The Tampa Tribune's Fiction Quarterly) is full of the claustrophobia of island life, which I nevertheless adore.
Some of these I've tagged, "A Movie," not because the synopsis is the prose form of our time but because I watched them, inwardly speaking, as films.