Sometimes in life I stop and think, what am I doing?
Like the other day, I was driving around in my totally gross minivan (which I vowed never to own and if I did end up owning, never to allow to get gross) and my three kids were talking to me (Well, not the baby) about I’m not even sure what. And suddenly, in the rearview mirror I saw my five year old and I thought, in about a minute he’ll be fifteen and he won’t want to talk to me and he’ll be getting texts from girls and he’ll go to school all day and I’ll be so annoying to him. Then I thought, don’t do it. Don’t grow up. Then I thought, am I a mom? How did I get to be a mom? Then, upon looking out the window, I thought why is that girl walking so far away from that boy? Are they in a fight? I wonder what that’s about? Then I thought, I wonder what I’ll make for dinner. Then I started crying. Not really. But almost.
This is why I lose things. This is why I have emotional problems. This is also why everyone should move into my basement.
If everyone moved into my basement they could help me live my life. They could tell me how to raise my kids. They could teach me how to organize a pantry. They could show me around my sad yard. Everyone could pool their strengths and together as a cohesive basement-living whole, we could make my world a better place.
I need you all. Don’t you think we all need each other sort of kind of? Especially as writers. We are all good at different things whether it be time management, plotting, world-building, eating, drafting, revising, etc. And if we hang out together more, we can learn from each other. Share our secrets or rather, our hard-earned discoveries.
So come move on in, Carol. It’s a start.
Also, I like Thai food.