Kill the Drama
A blight has fallen upon my house. Well, not exactly a blight. More like, a cold that won't go away. My two year old and I sit around hacking, sneezing and generally sounding unhealthy, and this has been going on for almost two weeks. It's like we've caught the New and Improved Long-Lasting SuperCold. It's like we've won the germ lottery.
Woohoo. I think I'm going to celebrate by lying down for a while.
Oh, but I've got writing to do, so no lying down just yet. Today I'm revising a synopsis (a story summary/outline), which I'd fully intended to finish last night. Instead, my husband suggested we watch a movie, and Netflix had just sent us The Notebook. It was not a movie I had wanted to watch (because I knew it would be a tear-jerker), but he'd insisted we order it anyway. He is convinced that any movie Netflix users give more than 4 stars is a must-watch.
But here's the funny part. As the movie was starting, he looked at me and said, "Why did you want to watch this?" I had to remind him that he's the one who picked it out, even with my insisting I didn't want to watch it.
So instead of working, I sat on the couch crying hysterically. (I might be called the overly sensitive type--I think I cried for a full-on 30 minutes or more at the end of Titanic.) This is why I write light, humorous stories. I can't hang with the heavy stuff. I already know life is rough--I don't need to be reminded in my fiction.
But oops, this synopsis I'm revising is supposed to be humorous, and it's reading like serious melodrama at the moment. I'd better go make sure no one important dies at the end...