Saturday, November 19, 2011
Confession #1. I got a little too emotionally-invested in my daughter's 5th grade report of Famous Person Beverly Cleary. I didn't realize how much she means to me. I didn't even have a dysfunctional childhood to retreat from, she just made life more enjoyable. Love love Henry, Ribsy, Beezus, Ramona...*BIG SIGH*
Confession #2. My senior-aged son was wearing his 6th grade T-shirt the other day. Is this a problem? I promise I'm feeding him. Maybe the shirt was just ginormous on him all those years ago and now he's growing into it?
Confession #3. To the guy in the white truck at the light on Ellsworth and Broadway: It was nothing personal when I yelled "You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave." Just having a little Hotel California moment on the radio.
Confession #4. I thought writing the first line of a novel was hard, but try the last. I do not know how to make it NOT sound like the cheesiest of cheese. I want to evoke that "ahhh" factor, not make the reader gag like someone's sprayed a can of Cheez Whiz down their throat. Advice welcome.
Confession #5. After I finish editing that last line to death (see #4) then I'm going to send it off to a professional editor. I'm so close I can taste it (is it the cheese maybe?).