• Rose

39 years old and learning how to be a writer...


My son and I had a day-out planned yesterday- lunch, a trip to the dread Wal-Mart, Barnes and Nobel, and then to ice cream. I, for the life of me can't remember what we had for lunch and it is now official that I am old. Wal-Mart caused me a minor heart attack when a women with faded My Little Pony hair and Grinch PJ bottoms started screaming at her kids to stop talking about getting apples. Lets stop here for a second, am I even surprised that this was a event at Wal-Mart?


Every trip starts the same- the tetris game of parking in between all the carts that shoppers feel incline to leave in random places instead of the conveniently placed shopping cart stands. As a kid, my mother would yell out '$0.25 to anyone who can find a parking space first'. Oh what a great game that was! Instead now in 2020- it is 'find a parking spot without a shopping cart'. But what really gets me about Wal-Mart is the overwhelming amount of stuff you can find in one store. I went in for drinks, grapes, and something else that I can still not remember that I needed. What did I walk out with? Grapes, drinks, shirts for Reghan, shirts for Gabe, new shorts for Kekoa, a new curling iron that I didnt know that I needed, diet pills because they advertise that it will improve not only my weight but also my hair, nails, mood, sleep patterns, sex drive, ability to fly and read minds, and mouse for my sons hair. We did price shop a new vacuum, picked out the new pots and pans that I wanted for Christmas, and rummage through the Halloween decoration because in the land of Wal-Mart- preparation for the holidays can never come soon enough.


And then we heard her. Now, I was in the holiday decoration isle- which in any Wal-Mart across any country, we all know that this is on the other side of the store. The way other side. I can tell you that she was having a rough day by the shear temper tantrum that was being displayed for the world to see. Not by the kids mind you- the tantrum that the mom was having. I am sorry parents, I will usually forgive when kids are getting out of hand and parents are near tears trying to get the few things they need before CPS is called. However, I can not get behind the mom showing out. How do I know that she had fade My Little Pony hair and Grinch PJ's on? Because someone called the cops and she was giving her statement as we were walking out. I tried not to stare too much, but it was like a traffic accident during rush hour- everyone slowed down to have a good glance. As we walked out of the store, playing our favorite game of 'Do you remember where we parked?', I hugged my son and told him that he could have all the grapes he ever wanted.


Off to Barnes and Nobel we go. Kekoa was in need of new books and we were looking for guidance on how to write a novel. Now, lets talk about Barnes and Nobel. Until COVID, I could walk into Barnes and Nobel blind folded and still be able to walk to the section that I needed with no issue. If it had anything to do with history, I could usually get the the right section of authors. Post-COVID- they changed the whole damn store!!!!!Up is down, down is up- where the hell is the history section now? Why is that when you first walk in- its the medical and essential oil section? Where did the best seller section go? I know I am fat and should put down the Oreo, I dont need this type of pressure when I walk into my safe zone! After 20 minutes, and a horrible conversation with the nice employee who could not understand what we were asking for through our masks- we finally found the section for learning how to write. 73 books! I swear- we counted them! Why is there 73 books on how to write? What is our school system failing to tell us? But, I found the book - 'Your first Novel' by Ann Rittenberg, Laura Whitcomb, Camille Goldin, and Dennis Lehane. That is a lot of people in one book telling the readers on how to write. How did they all agree?


First chapter- Preparations! I need to do exercises with the left and right side of my brain. Are you shitting me? I pay for a gym membership that I dont use- just to say that I have one, because I hate working out that much, but the swipe card makes me feel legit. Now I need to work out my brain along with losing the 35 pounds that the medical and essential oil section told me too at Barnes and Nobel? I better quit my job, this seems overwhelming. Dad! Can I borrow some money? Second, I need to set up my work space. Done- off to Michael's and Joanne's I go to find decorations that inspire me to be creative. Of course, I couldn't see the decorations at the store because my mandatory mask fog's up my glasses and I am blind and having a panic attack. So here I sit in the dark and gloomy man's cave that houses my baby computer, sitting on a broken $15.00 metal chair (a great price at Wal-Mart) and there is a funny smell of wet dog and gun oil. I am all set! The next best seller is at my finger tips. I put on my inspirational music (no words, because that could derail my train of thoughts), and I am ready to do my first right-side brain workout. I wrote the first word that came to mind- oreo. Now, I am too use this word and just let the one word thoughts flow through me. Oreo. Coffee. Creamer. Sugar. Morning. Afternoon. Evening. Murder. Wait what? I started thinking what would happen if I didn't have my cup of coffee, and things got very dark.


So here I am writing to you- the great unknown of the world wide web. Will anyone ever read my thoughts? Will I ever be published? Can I even beginning to think of a plot that would span the space of a novel? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But for now, I have you- my 3 dedicated readers- my mom, my son (who I always guilt into reading), and the one person who always reads my stuff but I have no idea who you are. Thank you. This is the beginning of my novel....my practice run....my inspiration to not become a angry mom with faded My Little Pony hair

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