Aging the Write Way

Growing old

As I went to put the carton of milk in the oven this morning, and the croissants in the fridge to warm, I thought about my mum and laughed. Yes, I’ve become her. I used to make fun of her all of the time for doing these things. When I was in my teens and twenties, I thought I’d be young forever. Little did I know how quickly those years would pass. Old age creeps up quickly. Everyone seems to be younger than me now. I’m not quite sixty yet, but very close.

Nothing can slow down aging, its part of life, but life doesn’t have to slow down because of it. I’ve been writing since I was eleven or twelve. My head is full of stories.  Every single day is an adventure to me. The older I get, the more important, its become to share my adventures. Some will make you laugh, others, well you’ll think I’m crazy. There’s one thing for sure, I’m not going to keep them locked in my brain until I die, I’m aging the write way!

 

Dead of July is the my first novel. I published it 2013. It took a couple of years to write, and another year to edit and perfect. Give it a try. Its based on real events that happened to me when I was in my early twenties. 

The voices in my head sometimes ESCAPE!

Coming out of Costco tonight the voices in my head just ran riot…….“oh thank heavens it’s stopped raining. My god, does that woman know she’s too old to expose that much of her bosom, and you really shouldn’t wear short skirts at THAT age. Great, someones’ parked next to me. If I have a door ding I’ll be upset!”

SHUT UP SHUT UP, I pleaded, but the voices continued.

“Do I need more wine? No, I have enough. What am I cooking this weekend? Hey watch where you’re going. Dammed Hyundai’s they’re taking over.”

Oh, what a lovely Porsche, I bet that can shift. I wonder who’s it is. Probably some hot young man.” 

I was aware of someone standing in front of me and looked up to see a gentleman smiling at me. He was about the same age as me (okay, I’ll tell you mid fifties) and quite well put together.

“I’m not a young man, but I still consider myself a pretty warm, not steaming hot, but certainly not cold.”

Was he reading my mind, I was speechless. I stood and gawked at him.

He laughed out loud now. “I guess you live alone,” he said, “and yes you were talking out loud.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

screaming-woman

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