I will have to resist applying self-censorship sooner or later.  I picked up a book at the Library called Telling Lies for Fun and Profit by Lawrence Block and after reading the bit about writing short stories versus a novel, I put myself in front of the computer and continued to write – or rather, revamped – a short story that was already, in my mind, part of a novel.  It is just that I get lazy when I think of the amount of pages still to be written, and the holes I leave to fill later.  The initial story draft, for example, was written in the first person, which to me was limiting (it seemed to help to give the character a more definite personality).  To some extent, I keep wanting to write the chronicles of a character in whose head I like to be.  Here’s the rub: the character engages in gay prostitution, and it raises red flags in my mind.  The funny thing is that I have no idea about the lives of actual sex workers, and this …