Melinda Morley

So, yesterday my fab friend (who also happens to be a fab writer) called. I squealed no less that four times. Twice when my husband read the caller ID and twice into the phone after I answered it–sorry, Kristi, if it hurt your ears.

I heart Kristi.

She makes me laugh. And for some reason, even when she is in despair (or I am–we take turns), she always gives me an excessive amount of hope. Even after I hang up the phone, I find myself still smiling hours later.

So, back to yesterday. We talked. We talked the woes of muddy middles in our novels–the kind you can’t see through and how we wished we had editors already. We talked the fear of placing our hearts and souls into our stories and the fear of criticism. We talked the what if my novel sucks rocks and yours doesn’t (okay, we really didn’t talk that). We talked about just letting go–did you know that there are a million ways to let go and not all of them are good. . .

So, then today, after a long day at the zoo–no, not my house, I really went to the zoo. Field trip. (I am milking this warm weather every chance I get.) BTW, I need to post about the zoo.

Anyway, so, after the zoo, I took my thirteen-year-old shopping. His feet are now larger than his dad’s –who is blessed with size 11 himself (and if that kid doesn’t stop growing, I’ll need to take out a loan because he has outgrown EVERYTHING.) You’d have to see it to believe it, folks. Am I a little scattered tonight or is it just me?

Anyway, on the way home from our shopping trip where I felt soooo old because Poe wanted to go to all the hip stores and apparently, I am not very hip or maybe people were in awe that someone so young looking could have a son taller than her because I sure got stared at. A lot. I was wearing Gap. I couldn’t have looked THAT weird. But I digress….

Let me try to get to the point. I know it is here somewhere.

On the way home from shopping, I heard this song on the radio. I laughed out loud. You know, LOL. Because it totally fit–not Poe’s clothes–they don’t fit–but the writing thing. The middles. The letting go. (I think I’m giving myself a headache. If I gave you one too–my apologies.)

Kristi, this song is for you:

Here is the link. (Apparently, I can’t embed it.)

PS-This is my new theme song for the year.