Sometimes, when Mom writes a story, it’s not the story she meant to write. When stories jump from her head to her hands to her computer, bad things can happen.
The stories can go on and on and on. And on. The plot can go off track. The focus can go away…
… and then come back again.
And then go away again.
Characters can refuse to do what she wants them to do. BAD things can happen.
The story from Mom’s brain might be in there somewhere, but it’s hidden. When Mom gets to the end, she says, “It’s twice as long as it should be.” and “This sounded better in my head.” and “Where’s your other boot?”
It snowed last weekend in my neighborhood. EVERYTHING was hidden under 28 inches of that cold, white stuff. I was hidden under the hood of my pink parka.
My beautiful paws were hidden in boots to protect them from cold. And rock salt.
A sofa near the dumpster was hidden under a snow drift.
After a couple of days, I found some grass that was hidden near a disconnected snowplow that was hidden behind a building.
A long time ago, I found a soggy potato chip bag hidden under the snow. So far, try as I might, I haven’t found any buried food.
Maybe when Mom is finished searching for the elusive, amazing story from her head, we’ll take a walk and see if there’s an elusive, amazing McDonald’s wrapper hidden under the snow. Or maybe I’ll just rest for a little while…