Writing a short story is akin to a childbirth; like a mother who carries the child in a protective womb for several months, a story too incubates in the writer’s mind for months! Once the umbilical cord is cut after the child’s birth, the mother and child gets physically separated, though the emotional bondage increases and physical closeness gets new meaning and purpose – attached without being attached. Similarly, once a story is out of the writer’s mind, the writer need to stand away to see his creation with a new eye to give it a shape with all the love and affection but with a sense of detachment to his own creation.
Like a child, the story either gets completely developed in the writer’s mind or could be pre-mature at the time of birth and has to be nurtured in the external world. Sometime, like a child, stories too are still born, or premature and might require treatment a Cesarean section for bringing them out! Some of them might even die a premature death in the womb itself, never seeing the light of day. Stories are no different.
Even after the child’s birth, a mother nurses the child and protects it. Similarly, even after writing a story, a writer nurtures it, protects it and polishes it to make it presentable to the world at large.