Response to: Why I stopped writing

Response to: Why I stopped writing 

The therapist looked at Brooke and asked, “Did you love her?”

“Yes, I mean no. I hated her, but of course I loved her. She was my mom. She was sick. She was always sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she was mentally ill.  She always told me how much she never wanted me. She pimped out my sister at a truck stop. She hit us. She beat us. She hated us. However, no matter how sick she was I loved her, because I knew she was sick.”

“hmm…” The therapist wrote in the file. The he looked up and said, “ You know why you feel the way you do?”

Brooke shook her head no.

“Because you are not ready to give up that storyline. That story was written. It is over. For your whole life you were the unwanted, neglected and beaten child. Now the main character is dead and you don’t want to let go. You only know that storyline. That’s the story you are comfortable with, but the main character is dead so the only way to continue to live that storyline is for you recall those bad times. The more you recall the bad times the more you suffer as you always had before your mother died. The good news for you is that she is gone. The story is over. Time to move on. Stop focusing on that story. Start focusing on another storyline. Write a new one.”

Brooke wiped her tears and looked up. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. The book is closed. The story is over. Now, you can be anything you want to be. What do you want to be?”

“I don’t know. I never thought of it that way.”

“Do you want to be a villain, hero, victim or leader?”

“I want to be.”

“Then find yourself.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“The person you were for the past 40 years, the one who sat here crying is not the person you are. It was the person you once were. Now is time to re-identify with yourself. Once you find the new you, you will never feel like you did as you did when you came in here.”

“Ok, but where do I start.”

“That’s not for me to answer. I’m just your therapist and your time is over for today.”

“Ok, but then how do I find out where to start. Who do I talk to?”

“A friend, go talk to a friend.”

“But I don’t have any. That is why I come here.”

“Then go find one.”

Best Friend For Christmas

I am super excited to announce the release of, Best Friend For Christmas. It is the first book to the series of tales of Promise and Snow-po.

Best-Friend-for-Christmas-CoverTo purchase or preview a copy at Amazon click here.

 

What I learned from a marathon of Entourage on HBO

wallpaper-s8-1600The past week, my husband and I spent our entire time cuddled on the couch watching back to back episodes of Entourage.  I am talking all eight seasons. It was easy for the both of us to get caught up in the show, because we never heard of the show before the movie.  The show definitely sucked us right in.

As a couple, we both understood how Ari could simply take his wife for granted. It is hard to balance family life with work.

We also loved the way Ari built, clawed, fought and negotiated strategy to get to the top of agents. Ari did not have the best ethics, but he worked hard and never let “no” stop him for getting what he wanted.

Finances of the star Vince and his friends pretty much sums up life. Money comes and money goes. It seems like there is never enough and when you have it life is a hell of a lot better than when you don’t.

My husband enjoyed the negotiations and strategy throughout the show along with the wide variety of tits, asses, hot girls, hot cars and the appearances of real directors, writers, studio executives and actors.  For me, my favorite part was the writing. I enjoyed the dialogue. I thought it was a well written show. I enjoyed how scripts were evaluated on the show. I have always dreamed of being a writer, even with the frustration of Final Draft software. I know what I want to write. I know what I like to write about. I even know my limitations on what I can and cannot write.  It never really occurred to me that all that shit doesn’t really matter. What really matters is what the audience of movies and television want.

In reality I could write the best movie ever about a cat that can crotchet small hats to be sold on Etsy, but in reality no matter how well that script or novel is written not many are going to pay a dollar to read or see it.

I just want to tell the casts, directors, and writers of  “Entourage” thank you. Thank you for letting me to finally understand the business. If it was not for me sitting on my sofa ordering pizza multiple times with my husband for the past seven days, I might still be trying to sell my handcrafted piece of shit. Now, I am a wishful writer with nothing, but hey at least I am not wasting anyone’s time.

If you want to know more at Entourage please check it out at: http://www.hbo.com/entourage/about/video/entourage-hbo-first-look.html?autoplay=true

Going Shopping

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m making a budget.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m broke.”

“Oh, ok. Do you want to go swimming after?”

“No, I’m busy.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m going shopping.”

“I thought you said you were broke.”

“Duhhh..”

“Then why are you going shopping?”

“Because, I need to.”

“Oh, ok. Whatcha buying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Whatcha need?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you going shopping?”

“Because I need to.”

“That’s stupid. Why don’t you just go swimming with me?”

“Because I need to go shopping and get new stuff.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Noooo, you’re stupid swimming on a weekend with in the heat when you could be shopping.”

“But I don’t have any money to shop!”

“That’s because you need to do a budget!”

 

 

Hard-on in the pool

“Did you cause a man to have a hard-on in the pool?”

“What? No, gross.”

“I beg to differ. We caught a man jacking off in the locker room.” I had to send two of my best lifeguards in there to stop him.

“Well, it’s not my fault.”

“Then why is his wife saying different. She said she saw you swim up to her husband at the deep end of pool. Over there in the corner in the lap swim lane with your top hanging off.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Lady, we don’t do this here. This is a public pool for children and families.”

“Listen, listen, it’s not what you think.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“What? Why?”

“For turning tricks in my pool.”

“No! You’ve got it wrong. Really, I probably did that poor old man a favor. Look at him. He’s what 50 plus, bald, with a belly. Look at his wife! She is in a scooter, or Walmart mobile. I was just fucking swimming.”

“Hey, there’s children no cussing.”

“They are fucking in the pool. We are inside this whatever you call this of an office that smells like dirty feet.”

“Respect me and the lifeguard office. I’m calling the cops.”

“Don’t call the Po-Po. Listen, just listen. I think you will laugh. I usually swim laps every weekend and a wear a pathetic one piece with a little skirt around it.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“Everything, ok. Now shut up so I can tell you my story. I got tired my of 50’s style fat lady suit, so I bought this cheap flimsy bikini in Large. How was I to know that my 5 foot tall size 36B tits would pop out of them?”

“Enough”

“Shhhhh, I got to the other side of the pool and I ask that old man with a ring on his fat harry finger to fix my suit. I thought it was a failsafe. I could’ve asked any of those Army guys to help me, but noooo. I looked for the most asexual creature in the pool and asked. I really didn’t come on to him, and I am sorry about his dick. It’s not my fault.”

“Language lady”

“Yeah, yeah, so you see it was not my intention. I don’t do things like that you know. I go to church. I am married too.”

“You’re off the hook this time, but next time ask a lifeguard. That’s what we are here for.”

“Got it.”

 

The dog that bit the shit out of me

It took time to get to where we were.

Molly, our 17 year old senior dog, was depressed. She laid in bed all day, she would wet in bed. She refused to eat and would bite us if we wanted to give her attention. Life was bad for Molly. The breaking point for Molly was one night I step in the kitchen where she stood with pee all around her. I bent over to tell her no with my finger pointing and shaking it at her muzzle.

Molly could take no more. Whatever reason it was, Molly saw that finger as an opportunity. She watched it like it was prime rib flapping before her chops. That was the moment in a instance that senior dog jumped up and latched on to my finger like a tick on fat warm skin. I yelp, “Help!” I wiggled. I shook my arm up and down and that dog went up and down with my finger holding on for dear life. “Fuck’n shit! Help me!” I cried. The first one down the stairs was my Spanish speaking mother-in-law in her see through pajamas without a bra.

“Javi! Fucking help me!” My mother-in-law stood there with her hands over her mouth. I was still standing in dog piss as my dog hung from my finger. My husband finally came running down stairs to see me crying. My face red. The dog and I both wet from the piss splashing every time I lowered my arm to shake her off.

Javi ran to Molly and picked up her body to where it was level with my finger and she released the grip she had. My finger was torn just a little. The problem was part of her tooth broke off into the skin.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“What the fuck did you do to that dog?”

“Molly? Now you care more about Molly than me?”

“You had to do something.”

“Yeah, I did. I told her no. She peed on the floor and I’m tired of it. I said bad dog and shook my finger at her.”

“Well, don’t. Let her do what she wants. She’s a dog. She’s old. Leave her alone.”

“No. I’m sick and tired of everyone in this house doing what they want. For once I want her to pee outside.”

The blood from my finger was all over my arm. Tears down my face. “You don’t give a shit about me. Look at this blood. There is something in my fucking finger and you’re yelling at me.”

To be continued……