"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Sunday, March 21, 2010


Yeah, wow. I have this great idea generator thing that comes up with all of these brilliant ideas and tells me what it sees and helps me bounce them around until they become amazing flesh eating brain monsters, that just dig and dig and fucking dig until you write them down. This magical machine is called a...drumroll please. A MOM.
Yeah, my mother is freaking brilliant.

She is just always coming up with all of these spectacular ideas for stories and poetry, and it's a wonder to me why she ever stopped writing. I'd say that I'm pretty good at brainstorming. Seriously. All those storm clouds just spewing and sputtering lightning in my head; I'm always thinking. But my mom. Wow. That is all I have to say.

There are times when I bubble over. Long periods where I can't write and can't think and can't even generate the energy to think about thinking. She never stops, it's like a train on tracks without a break. When I'm stuck in a rut, she can shove me out and start me up again. When I can't figure out how a character is supposed to act or how a storyline should work, she can help me to push all the pieces of my puzzle together.

Do me a favor and go give your mom a hug. Because you know she's awesome and god I hope my mom never sees this, because I'll never hear the end of it.

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."