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I can only ask myself if I’m EVER going to get back into the full swing of blogging on Sunday mornings!  I was doing so well for so long… how come it’s always something and once it’s broken there’s no repairing it?

I feel the same way about my writing… I get into a groove and then something steps in and stops that and the whole thing falls apart.  I can’t get back to it.  It’s almost impossible.

So tonight I went to Chapters.  Needed to see if there were any new writing magazines on the rack and, sure enough, a new copy of The Writer is out.  While I was looking at that and at the shelves for writing books, this kid started screaming!!  Top of its lungs, blood-curdling, curl-your-toes screaming!!!  Put-earplugs-in-and-run-for-the-door screaming!!!

Do you get the idea yet?

It actually sends shivers down my spine thinking about it.  I tried really hard to make my way to the back of the store anyway and as I neared it stopped… a hush fell over the store and I proceeded through the discount books… only to hear it start up again!  I’d had enough.  I had also managed to find a writing book that actually has a CD with it… I’m intrigued… and I went to check out.

Yes, I lodged my own form of a complaint.  I said that I couldn’t take it any longer and was in need of leaving.  That my daughter is now 18 (birthday yesterday!) and I don’t have to listen to that anymore.  Also added a plug that perhaps the parent should consider leaving.  My thought, though not spoken, was that a staff person should have been gently asking this person to remove their child.  That this is a bookstore, similar to a library where loud noises are not acceptable.

There’s no way I’m muting my phone next time I go in there!  Deal with the insignificant chimes indicating text messages!

Am I getting old?  I always feel that way around my own birthday which is a mere eleven days after my daughter’s.  In the New Year I become hopeful; around my birthday, I become nostalgic.  I look back on what was and, despite not being able to change it, wish I could.

I’ve been talking a lot lately about characters and it makes me wonder why we don’t see a lot of middle-aged characters out there.  Do you notice that?  To write a novel about where we have been and how that shapes us moving forward might be frowned upon but publishers but maybe readers would like that.

We always want to re-evaluate where we’ve been and what we’ve done.  We always want to move forward better and feel more meaning in our lives.  We all want to make a difference.  Some of us don’t want to be the next Stephen King but close!  Maybe not a household name but an-every-other-household-name.

I’m glad I at least got this post together and posted.  I am feeling the lack of writing time again.  It’s coming out in the form of agitation… again.