Mar. 23, 2017

A Writer's Ideas

I jokingly asked my husband, Reese, one day if he would object to my writing books of a pornographic nature.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

“Why? I can’t believe you have a problem with me writing books,” I said.

He answered, “It’s not writing books that bother me: it’s you writing porn because I know I would be the star of your novels.”

“So, you’re saying it’s okay to write books though?”

“Yes,” he answered nodding his head, “Just no sex involved.”

I smiled and said, “Much like our marriage, huh?”

My daughter, Amber, says she doesn’t want me to write about her at all and if I do, I cannot write about her prom night(s). I cannot write about her troubles at school, or her teachers, at any time, ever. I cannot write about her past boyfriends, husbands, childhood friends, childhood, or anything else other than her pets.

“That leaves me nothing to write about,” I exclaimed, quite put out.

“Exactly!”

My son says the same. I cannot write about his childhood or his friends (unless they did something stupid like Noah and Ian have done and Reese is out of the equation). I cannot write anything about him at all.

“So what do I write about,” I asked my son.

“Go write about Dad.”

Now, I’m back to square one. Instead, I write books about other people.