All this dad stuff has been on my mind forever. Story after story, essay after essay. Poems out the wazoo. The first time I tried to get serious about it, after I became a dad, I tried to make it into a book-length memoir/self-help book. The idea was that I'd write about the process of healing my father-wound, and therefore help other men like me (and maybe some women too, who had angry dads or angry husbands) heal their father-wounds, too. 

Ha! How stupid to think I could ever do this linearly! How stupid to think I've resolved my daddy issues to write a how-to book that guides other people into healing! 

The best I can hope for is to show you how I've tried and failed to heal myself. All art can do is share one corner of the human experience: being a father, being exposed to emotional violence, being a conduit for emotional violence. Any other expectation is hubris.