Who Needs Hemingway When You Have Holy Cannoli

If I stare at the blank screen long enough, a story should write itself. It doesn’t. Little girl on my lap; she kicks the computer. Scrunching her little toes on top of the laptop and pushing with all her might. She wants to be the center of attention and when she is not, all hell breaks loose. Very similar to an overly endowed women wearing a too tight tube top. One wrong move and the whole enchilada pops out for all the world to see. So, it is difficult to write a story. As soon as an idea forms in my head, I want to jot down the skeleton of the story. Sometimes access to a computer is not available. Other times, I start the story and have to stop to attend to little girl’s needs. By the time I return to the story, it’s not what I want to say and I hit the delete button to remove all traces of the story.

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