Story Sharing

My Dad and I are writing a story together. We take turns writing one line each and then trading off. So far it’s been interesting.

I, being a serious writer with very little humour and a passion for prose have been taking my sentences quite seriously.

My Dad, on the other hand, is using this as an opportunity to make fun of me.

I mean, sure, I did buy a water bottle for my dog, and sure, that is a bit of a yuppie thing to do. But is it really necessary to turn a very serious, potentially award winning short story into a joke about my spoiled dog?

This may have been a sore spot for me.

Regardless, the exercise has been a fun one (even if I have been waiting days and days for my turn to write again – hurry up, please!). It’s interesting to not only have to limit myself to one or two sentences at a time but to also relinquish control of a story and just see where the exercise leads us. I am a planner, someone who likes to know the major plot points before putting pen to paper which is something I can’t do here. Within the first sentence my Dad had already changed the complete direction of the story.

Apparently my Dad is not a puppet ready to dance to my tune.

Alas. I suppose this will make me a stronger writer.

Or, at the very least, remind me not to tell my Dad about Ninja’s rain coat and backpack.


There are all kinds of motivations for getting into shape. My motivation? I have a crush on a guy at my gym. It may not be the most noble of causes for exercise but it does the trick.

Nothing gets my plump posterior to the gym faster than a cute guy running on the treadmill in front of me. Is this inappropriate? Probably. Or, at least it would be if I actually checked out said gentleman. Instead I spend my time killing myself on the elliptical “feeling the burn” while I bob my head – and occasionally sing along to – “Sexy and I Know It” by LMFAO.

If I was any more awesome people’s hearts would break.