"Well that explains a lot." Amy
A dear friend figuratively kicked my procrastinating butt in 2005 after I whined about not having a clue as to how to start my first novel. Garry had managed to write three himself while a stay-at-home-dad to two girls so I figured he knew the secret. It was early on a wicked hot August morning and our kids were tearing after each other like spider monkeys on the preschool playground.
“What does that mean, Garry? Just write. No one can just write! A story is different from business writing. With a brochure or white paper, you do your research, interview the experts, put everything in order and end with a damn good reason for the reader to hire the company that hired you. Stories aren’t like that.”
He squinted at me in the bright sunlight.
Looking over at the kids, I figured he was holding out on me. Just write. That’s like telling a med student to “Just cut.” Since those two words seemed to be all the wisdom he was willing to share that particular morning, I let it go. Just write, indeed. Easy for him to say.
Later that day, I looked over at my desk and thought “What the heck…I’ll try it.”
If the only constant in life is change, why doesn’t a lovely young thing think past the moment and realize the sweet butterfly tattoo she just had Big Lou stencil over her left breast will become a deranged pterodactyl by the time her kids get their GEDs?
If inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the hell happened, does the older person ever slap her younger self upside the head and say “Life happened, you idjit – and it left your once tight little butt on the other side of Highway 50 three sizes larger and covered in cellulite.”
If life begins at 50, what were we all doing for those five decades – research?