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.