Book, memoir, series, story, whatever
The voice in my head keeps yelling at me to write. He's like this annoying super fan at a kids basketball game, standing on the bleachers, yelling shit at an awfully high decibel. Yeah, I've given the voice in my head a gender for some very odd reason. Maybe it is just natural to think that way being as old as I am. Every time I finish a book, he gets up and yells, "why the hell did you put those huge nails on?! You know you can't type with those!" He totally forgot the part about telling me to write. So, I ignore the rude remark about my fabulous claws and sit down with my journal. I write about my day. as mundane as that sounds. It's so routine and lacks that voice that my fingers are so adept at portraying on a keyboard. What will people think reading that when I'm dead and gone? "No wonder she was bat shit crazy. She was bored out of her fucking mind." Life moves at varying paces that change daily and even sometimes by the hour. This past mon