My Zoology Thesis Was A Functional Analysis

As For Hearing, The Sloth Is Not So Much Deaf As Uninterested In Sound.

I Wept Like A Child. It Was Not Because I Was Overcome At Having Survived My Ordeal, Though I Was. Nor Was It The Presence Of My Brothers And Sisters, Though That Too Was Very Moving. I Was Weeping Because ....fill In The Blank With Whatever/whoever Helped You Survive... Had Left Me So Unceremoniously.

That's What Fiction Is About, Isn't It, The Selective Transforming Of Reality? The Twisting Of It To Bring Out Its Essence?

I Thought They Were Helping Me. I Was So Full Of Trust In Them That I Felt Grateful As They Carried Me In The Air. Only When They Threw Me Overboard Did I Begin To Have Doubts.

If You Write Genre Fiction, You Follow The Rules, And You Have To Follow Them Because Readers Expect That.