I'm a bit late getting this uploaded today - the day has seemed to just run away. I went down a rabbit hole on Instagram the other day and ran across a ton of people who resell clothes for a living. One of the ladies was giving her hints as to how to use time more effectively and one of them was using templates to list items because she finds that looking at a blank screen sometimes causes her writer's block. While I have definitely been there before, staring at a blank screen, it was almost always when I needed to write a 15 page lab report at 1 am that was due at 9 am (I am a recovering procrastinator but you wouldn't believe that by looking at the fact that this was supposed to go live at 4 pm and is being written at almost 10 pm. I am working on it I promise). Creative writing typically just flows from me and one of my family members pointed something out in my dad a few months ago that I think explains it. I was having dinner with my aunt (one of them - I have a lot of family) and she mentioned handing an article my dad had written to a family friend who read the whole thing before asking "Did Jon write this?" My aunt went on to say how much she loved that reading my dad's writing was like having a conversation with him and that, if you knew him, you could even hear his voice. When she said that something clicked in my brain. In high school, I had friends tell me that they knew my writing without ever having to look at the byline - it just sounded like me. For ages, I have had people tell me they love my stories and my best friend told me recently, "I love reading your blog posts, especially since we no longer live together. It is like listening to a conversation with you." And while I think yes, some people may just naturally be good writers, it is a learned and cultivated skill regardless of natural ability. As a 4th grader, I can remember coming home with a project - I had to write a story - and I remember asking my dad where to start. His response had a bigger effect that I think either of us anticipated. He said, "Just write like you were telling the paper a story." And I did. And I still do. Writer's block isn't typically a big deal for me. I stare at a screen and if I blank, I ask what story do I want to tell today. And often, the end surprises even me. For instance, I was planning on telling you that I have recently discovered that you can make money reselling used clothes and antiques online AND MAKE A LIVING DOING IT. I legit thought that was just something people did to pay off their debt extra fast or make some extra money in retirement. But there are actual, SANE human beings that are doing this full time for a living. How cool is that?! Anyways, that was what I was planning on telling you but the keyboard had a different story. The keyboard wanted me to tell you, it is your friend - it and the blank screen on the other side of the glass in front of you. They want to help you tell your story, you just need to tell them first. So I challenge you, grab a computer, paper and pen, or even just your phone, and just write what you think, what you feel, a part of your day, just like you would tell your best friend. I think you might be surprised how much fun it is. After you write for a bit, snap a picture, post it to social media (put a sticker over the writing if you are self-conscious), and tag me in it. I would love to see you getting creative! I am super excited to be sharing our garden on Thursday so I will chat with y'all then! P.S. Oh, and if you were curious as to my 4th grade writing assignment, we found it when my parents moved a few years ago. The assignment was to write about your summer. We had gone to a family reunion in Missouri and little old me was apparently very impressed that the cabin we stayed in had 9 bathrooms and three floors - it was mentioned at least 6 times that there were more bathrooms than bedrooms.

The Day I Thought I Saw the Mafia

I was sitting at the red light the other day and peaked in my rearview mirror. Behind me were two guys in a gold truck - you know those squatty, kinda ugly ones? Yeah, one of those. The driver was bald with an Eastern European facial structure and a look like he was in the Russian mafia. His buddy in the passenger seat was also bald (Completely off topic, have you ever noticed bald guys tend to have lots of bald friends?), Hispanic, and his expression just screamed Mexican mafia. Now, I know this is profiling but then I started dreaming up this story in my head... It was either a Tuesday or a Thursday - both days seemed a bit pointless to her - and Sophie was driving across town. The sun was shining, temperature was absolutely perfect, and spring was most definitely in the air. The light ahead turned red and the car eased to a stop. Humming along to some new song on the radio, Sophie glanced around. The best part about living in a city known for being 'weird' is all the strange people who are very proud about being so strange . The thought dashed through her head, not for the first time since moving here. Oh! That puppy is SO cute! Ummm...that is an interesting dance move. Odd...those bald guys behind me seem an bit off - I mean, that is the normal around here but they are...Oh, the light is green again. Speeding through the now green light just to be stuck at the next one, Sophie peaked through her rearview mirror again. Huh, those guys could be in the Mafia. Oh, just imagine, the driver is from the Russian Mafia and the passenger from the Mexican Mafia and they are here to meet with the leader of the Mafia in central Texas. HA! That would be so funny. And that vehicle - an ugly, squatty gold truck? I thought the Mafia only drove black SUVs that look sketchy. Whatever, there's no Mafia in Texas. With one last glance at the men behind her, the light turned green, Sophie went straight, and the men got on the interstate. Inside the gold truck, now speeding down the interstate, Sophie was more right than she would ever know. Ivan was a delegate from the Russian Mafia and Ralph was a delegate from the Mexican Mafia and they were in town to meet with the heads of organized crime in Texas. The two had met several years back, became friends over a couple bottles of vodka and tequila, and kept in touch. "How many Ivans do you know?" Ralph posed the question to Ivan. "That is the most Russian name ever." "Da," spit Ivan. "I know. Mother was furious that she got pregnant with me so she named me Ivan so she could call me 'Ivan the Terrible.' She says, I have never stopped living up to my name. Anyway, what room do you have to talk 'Raphael'?" "Madre was an artist. It was Raphael or Michelangelo but Abuela said 'Do not name that boy after an angel. He will follow in his father's footsteps and become a fallen angel.' So Raphael it was." Silence followed for a few moments until Ralph pulled a rosary out and draped it over the rearview mirror. "What do you think you are doing?" Ivan's face went stone hard, his calm voice cut like the knives strapped to his calf. "Get that off my mirror. Do not alter my car while I am driving. I will kill you with my bare hands if you make me wreck." "Calm down. The angels are watching over us and this is just a reminder to pray. We won't wreck." Ralph's face was blank but the glint in his eye as he turned toward the window revealed he knew the buttons he was pushing. "I. Am. Calm," Ivan gritted under his teeth before barking, "Get the GPS going!" "You have 18 more miles till we turn off the interstate amigo. Then it is dirt roads until we get to the barn." "This piece of junk you rented had better get us there. This is the last time someone else picks the rental car. What was wrong with a black SUV? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Sturdy, reliable, inconspicuous..." "Inconspicuous? You sure are throwing around big words, Ivan." "I was helping my niece study for a test before we left," the glare shooting across the car would have frozen Ralph in place if Ivan had decided to bring the new tech along for the trip. "And stop interrupting me. Don't make me kill you. I will." "Sure you will buddy." "Buddy? Buddy? WHO ARE YOU CALLING BUDDY? ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR? DO NOT TEST ME BOY!" Ralph's laugh and Ivan's grunts echoed through the car as they flew down the interstate, their gold truck getting many double takes as they left the city and headed toward the hill country. I hope you enjoyed my musings. Let me know what you thought below. Chat with y'all soon!

Writing – Loving Life with Lyss

Writing

Monday Musings

May 4, 2020

I’m a bit late getting this uploaded today – the day has seemed to just run away. I went down a rabbit hole on Instagram the other day and ran across a ton of people who resell clothes for a living. One of the ladies was giving her hints as to how to use time more effectively and one of…

Read More

Lyss
Writing

The Day I Thought I Saw the Mafia

April 1, 2020

I was sitting at the red light the other day and peaked in my rearview mirror. Behind me were two guys in a gold truck - you know those squatty, kinda ugly ones? Yeah, one of those. The driver was bald with an Eastern European facial structure and a look like he was in the Russian mafia. His buddy in…

Read More

Lyss