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Browsing Tag: writer’s block

I’ll Tell You Now I Keep it On and On

David got me these flowers on our anniversary in July (13 years, baby. Our marriage is officially a teenager). I’d chosen them as part of my wedding bouquet, but just got around to looking up their meaning today, and what I found kind of threw me off a bit: on the positive end, hydrangeas stand for gratitude. That’s lovely. On the flip side? They also portray frigidity, or disinterest (probably not what a couple wants to consider as it goes waltzing down an aisle, but let’s move on, shall we?).  Gratitude and disinterest: oddly enough, they’ve been the presiding emotions inside this ol’ body of mine this past year. It’s what’s prevailing, these conflicting feelings of extreme thanks for all the good in my life: the publication of All the Difference, my lit agent, my writing community, my family and friends and home and all of that. When I wake up every day, my first thought is just that: thanks. I’m so thankful to have this. But that’s before the second emotion sneaks in there, flowing around the side of that gratitude like…

It’s in the Genes

Saoirse told me the other day over lunch that I should write a book about our family as superheroes. She had it all planned out: the color of our capes, what we would say, how we would interact. She described, in detail, our adventures, and said that we would be called…The Supers. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the story had already been made into an animated kids’ movie that made its creator about a bazillion dollars. Besides, they always need sequels, and her story idea was really pretty good (hear that, Disney/PIXAR? HIRE MY DAUGHTER. We’ll be happy to negotiate wages).  But she was so excited while talking about her story, so, so animated (get it? HIRE HER, DISNEY). When I tell you her eyes actually lit up, believe me when I say, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree on fire. Writers, this is why we write, by the way. And I may have a budding novelist on my hands. Lord help us all. She smiled across the table that day and asked me if I would write the story. I said to her, “You could…