Hoping to pass on good information

     Everywhere you turn there is a new person determined to tell you how to write the right way. To oxford comma or not to oxford comma, how to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, how to make sure characters stay in line. That’s not really what writing is about, especially if you’re looking to be a professional. Sure, you need to read these blogs and get a fundamental understanding, but as soon as you do, destroy all that knowledge. You must read every day about culture, world affairs, fiction, non fiction, and the classics. Write about them, what did they make you feel? What didn’t you understand? What do you want to learn more about? What can you say about it? Question everything you learn and learn everything you can.My promise to myself is to compile all the information I can get my hands on and throw it all away. 

     Another thing to learn: write. Fucking write as much as you can every day. 300 words or 10,000, write something down. Make goals for yourself, make things manageable. Saying you’ll write a 300 page work is much more daunting than saying “I will write a page a day.” Once the routine and typing muscles are in place, add to the goals. Add challenges, toughen your resolve. Use role playing goal sites to make it fun. It may seem like a lot of work,but being a full time author is a job, passion-fueled or not.

            Miranda and her husband were on their way to The Café for lunch. They were having difficulties meeting up lately since their bosses were both asking for overtime on their part to complete different projects. Just being able to take a breather and be near each other was a blessing at the moment. Paul was absentmindedly chewing on gum at the time, one hand on the steering wheel, eyes unfocused as he stared at the roadway. Without noticing, his gum fell lightly into his lap and his wife laughed nasally, bringing him out of his stupor.

            “What?” He half-laughed, wondering what had gotten into Miri.

            “Do you, remember, that Saturday?” Miranda could barely choke out a reply, too busy reliving one of the best moments of her life. Paul shrugged, trying to think back on all the Saturdays he ever had with her and coming up blank.

            Miranda relived a flashback from the first time her and Paul tried to have sex. It was disastrous.  They were both virgins at the time, both scared and excited, but nothing could really prepare them for the physical sensation. For Miranda, it immediately hurt. He was by the tip and she flew back off of him, the second time they tried she almost fell off the bed. By the time they reached for some lube he was as flaccid as wet spaghetti.

            They decided to wait on it, both equally embarrassed and wouldn’t say anything besides apologizing on their performances and how the other did great. Paul decided to take her out to eat to a burger place; he hoped food might get his mind off things, if for a little bit. They ate in relative awkwardness, trying to talk about anything but sex. When they left, his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch and they had to stop for him to go to the bathroom and threw up. He’d never felt so bad about his entire life than he did at that point. Miranda took it in stride though and offered gum, trying to make him feel better.

            When they got back into his car he had to keep himself from flooring the gas back home so she could leave and he could die of embarrassment. As he was thinking about how lame he was in the bedroom, his gum flung out of his mouth and into his lap as they stopped at the light. Paul looked down at his pants, as did Miranda. After a small bit of deliberating, Miranda reached to the gum, picked it up, and placed it back in his mouth, which he started to chew without hesitation. It took them a couple of seconds sitting in silence before bursting out laughing at how awful that day had been.

            Miranda looked at Paul, then his lap, smiling until it hurt. She picked up the gum and pushed it between his lips, which sparked Paul’s memory. He nodded and gave a snort.

            “You’re a dork.” He said, squeezing her hand.