It’s funny– people ask me all the time how I can write so “real”. Where do I get my details? How do I ground everything so physically?
Fact is, I always think I skimp on some of the yuckier details. My writing is often optimistic– I think real life is much more Immortal or Bells of Times Square and much less Clear Water–but that doesn’t keep me from hoping for Clear Water or, even better, Shiny!
As to how I get my details?
I’m a mother.
I’m telling you, standing barefoot on the cold concrete in the 35 degree dark of the night to hose the industrial strength puke out of your daughter’s only boots because she got sick on the potty–that’s real.
If you can embrace that shit, you can write a moment of happy–because that has got to be what’s waiting around the corner.
*ETA– actually, what was waiting around the corner was more laundry. This time, sheets and a comforter. And I think I have a cold. Good news? Squish is pale and sort of listless, but feeling much better. And me? I will NEVER look at ANOTHER chicken fajita again as long as I live. EVER.
Oh, Honey. I think it's time for a very gentle hug to you both….and a warm fuzzy blanky…and maybe a special cocktail of ginger ale and cranberry juice….good for what ails you, or at least it'll scare it away!
Does it count as real if you do all that for your little sister because your poor mom can't stand the puke? If so, I feel you.