Conflict.

Hm.

I shouldn’t be writing about this: that’s my instinctual response. There are some secrets too deep to be told. As a writer, I mean.

Because they’re almost like…cheating.

The deep secret of the day is conflict.

I don’t know how many people are actually reading the Mrs. Kurtz fits, snorts, and sniggers, and I have no idea how many of those actually enjoy them. I haven’t heard anything one way or the other. I’m amusing myself, anyway.

But anyway, about conflict. The plot isn’t too complicated. The characters are simple. The setting is…over a freakin’ phone line and in a multi-ethnic-trash apartment. (Believe you me. Just because your hubby is black doesn’t mean you can’t be white trash. Or ghetto, I guess, for the reverse. Truth is stranger than fiction.) The only thing that makes this story interesting for me to tell is the conflict. Conflict? People yelling at each other over the phone. Nobody even dies.

Do you know what that means?

There’s nothing deep about this story. Nothing well-planned. Nothing artistic, or really even well-crafted. Ninety-five percent conflict. Fluff. Hocus-pocus. Writerly trick. Cheating.

Awfully fun to write, anyway.