This is part III in a series looking at what inspires my writing.
3. I Got 99 Problems but…Well, You Know the Rest
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed or upset or something’s just gnawing at me. My brain wants me to write about it, but I don’t want to write about ME. So what do I do? I make up people and do horrible things to them. Yes, it’s cruel, but that’s fiction, baby.
I once wrote a short story I called “Thaw.” It opens with a shy, nerdy mom named Margaret watching her five-year-old daughter play in a soccer game. Now I don’t know about you, but whenever I watch my kids playing sports I can’t stand it when parents continuously shriek things like “Get your head in the game!” or “Stop your crying!” from the sidelines.
Long (or actually short) story short, a mom in my story does just that during this soccer game. And just to make it more interesting, she starts yelling at Margaret’s kid too. But Margaret is too meek to say anything. So she stews about it. And stews some more.
She ends up running into this mom at the grocery store. Something snaps and she ends up—well, there’s no delicate way to put this. Margaret throws a frozen chicken at her. Revenge is sweet, ain’t it?
Image from Harpymarx