Sunday, July 10, 2011

Little Writing Snafu's

I made a minor mistake and asked my husband if he had any story ideas. He's so sweet in trying to help me, but I briefly forgot how his mind works, and now I regret it. He does have some terrific story ideas, but I prefer to leave fantasy fiction to authors like Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. (Yes, I know they're dead.) I love to read them, but it's just not the kind of genre I like to write in. I prefer to live in the real world, or something very similar to it. Frankly, I've never tried writing fiction of any sort. I've always found real life to be much more amusing, interesting, and dramatic. For example, why does my cat meow every time I sneeze? Is she saying, "Bless you," or "Shut up! I'm trying to sleep over here"? Anyhow, not wanting to hurt my husband's feelings and blatantly not writing about his ideas, it's given me more motivation to give my memoirs a more concerted effort until the heat dies down. Perhaps it's a sign.

No comments:

Post a Comment