I admit it, I fell for it. The title said, “How to turn traumatic experiences into fuel for your writing.” [This was from an email from Writer’s Digest.] Maybe I will learn something new, help me “reach right in there and grab it”–(like my niece said about grabbing the carotid artery during an autopsy…she was a Mortician student.)
I was excited about this new information. If I could only take all that juice that is churning around in my guts, the pain, the stabs, the insults, the knives, all pushed down with chocolate donuts, chocolate ice cream, and chocolate chip cookies, and form it into a workable putty-like substance and write something wonderful.
Ah, ’twas a dream. I will finally find the answer.
I read the article…the big traumatic experience was that she had been anemic? Seriously, not enough iron? That’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?!
The article then goes on to talk about writing her book, and of course, please buy her book.
I was anemic during my pregnancy–yes, my one and only pregnancy in which I was nauseous 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for the first 6 months. I took 325 mg of iron several times a day. I suppose I could write about that. And how I would have loved to have another child, but there was no way I could be nauseous non-stop for 6 more months without an extensive stay in the Psych Ward.
Max Brothers had “A night at the Opera.” Why not “A night at the Psych Ward?”
So after I voiced my complaints to the managing editor, you know, Brian–he tried to hit me with a forklift.
Daily Prompt: Non Sequitur