Now that I have more than one, any body, I shall write on my blog…woohoo!

Hello, my name is Shirley from the house Morrow, mother of dogs, and fighter of words.

Welcome to my lair…

Grimm Reaper 1…

How many days had I been dead? Damn! I am dead, right?

I know this graveyard. Those are my dogs sitting there. I remember you doing the Heimlich on me, babe. Didn’t work I guess.

Damn, me thirty years a paramedic and I got taken out by chocking. Damn you Grim Reaper and your foul play. Touché you bastard.

We were just sitting there watching the season premiere of Game of Thrones.

I’m sorry, babe. All those times you told me to stop chewing that ice… now you’re standing over my urn in this graveyard.

Can you hear me, babe? Can you see me?

Choking, the last thing I remember. Here we are now.

What do we do from here babe?

Not today

My Sloth woke up the other morning just beaming with ideas, but then…

I sat down and surrounded myself with all my favorite electronic devices, you know, iPhone in one hand, iPad in the other, and finally, my MacBook in the lap.

I feel like a little chub kid dancing around in a tub of gluttony.

So, instead of diving right in and getting my Sloth’s ideas for a story on the Mac I decided to have a cup of tea with a side of social media. Not a good move at all, not the tea of course, but the opening of a world of gossip, animal abuse, politics, don’t forget religion and just an all around world wide slap in the head with a crap bat.

However good her intentions were when she got me out of bed with an imaginary promise of a morning filled with words…let me just say, never have a Sloth for a mascot.

I was suddenly tired even though I just got out of bed a couple of hours ago. Ok ok, get another cup of tea and make some noise on that keyboard.

Open a document pitter patter around in it for a minute, tap out a word or two and suddenly its frozen. Yep, the program has left the building and now instead of getting my mouse to retrieve it the mouse leaves with the program and I cannot find either of them.

Frozen program + escape mouse= toss the sloth out into the yard and go back to bed.

And that folks, is how I became the Slothy writer.

If you can dream it, you can write it.

Oh god, now I’m totally mixed up about the order I should place my words in a sentence.

I read a blog the other day about word placement in a sentence. Apparently the British folks, the true brits that is, say we, Americans and all that, place our nouns, adjectives, and such, in the wrong order in a sentence as opposed to the order in which they place their words in a sentence.

I said “to hell with it” to my self and decided to never think of it again.

But now, right at this moment I can’t help but think about that blog again because I want to tell you about a dream I had and I’m worried my words won’t be in the right order.

I looked everywhere for that blog and couldn’t find it.

If you see it let me know.

That being said.

Generally my words have a hard enough time keeping themselves in my mouth at the worst time and out of my mouth at the best time. So I decided I’d write shit the way it moves around in my brain and let my spirit animal guide the order of my words instead of the brits.

Speaking of Sloths, my spirit animal, and the only human non-person thing I can follow, because we move at the same pace.

I literally had a spirit animal dream. I’m still not sure what part he played in the dream but he looked at me, and I him, that was all.

Now for the dream……

I was in a crystal clear pond about to get my swim on. My friends were not in the water yet, just me.

Basically I was wading around in the water waiting for my friends to get in when I looked back towards the shore where they were standing.

Suddenly I spied an alligator lying at the bottom of the pond.

I yelled “alligator!” To warn my friends when suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spied Slothy, my spirit animal. Slothy was slowly crawling up the embankment to get out of the water when he stopped to look back at me. I stood there looking back at him in fascinated delight to see him.

Slothy, is not just my spirit animal he is my human, not a person, muse. He’s really just my stuffed Sloth that I love.

After me and Slothy made eye contact I looked back over at my friends, and before my friend could move, and after I yelled alligator, the alligator jumped out of the water and bit my friends head and held it captive in his mouth until I was able to get over to her and whoop the gators ass into a pair of shoes and a belt.

Okay, that didn’t really happen, it was a pair of shoes and a purse, not a belt.

So, I got my friends head free from the jaws of death and the gator turned and came after me.

Somehow I managed to wrangle that gator like a boss and I walked around with him by his mouth as if he were my trophy.

I think the moral of my dream was this.

Next time make luggage out of the gator instead of shoes and a belt, then, take yourself on a trip, you deserve it for saving your friend.

And finally, if you’re going to make eye contact with Slothy be prepared to write something, anything.

So I did.

Old friends

And by that I don’t mean age.

Recently I met up with people that were my close friends many years ago, almost twenty five years ago more specifically.

First we found each other on Facebook then we got together and grilled burgers and dogs.

Time has changed us on the outside but man on the inside they are still the caring and most loving people I can ever know, then, and now.

It was like how I imagine a family reunion should go. Lots of hugs and chatter about the old days and the new days.

We were so young, of course, back in the day. Each one of our lives head in other direction and we’ve made our mark and learned who we are and are all friends again sharing our life experiences.

Some seasons will always be a warm day in summer with just enough breeze to remain comfortable. I can not be happier for this day with my new, old friends.

I say don’t be afraid, pick up that keyboard and find someone you used to know that you would love to know again.

My heart is bursting with happiness because I stepped up and took that chance.

Go ahead and do it.

Brain Gremlin

So, I was in the shower yesterday when a rapid knock came to the bathroom door “are you still in there?” KI was asked by a raspy, high pitched voice.

“Why no, no I’m not” I answered back to the curious voice on the other side of the door.

“Then how are you talking to me?” The same raspy voice asked me.

“I’m talking to you from my grave and I’m really just a ghost in here.”

Kids are gullible fortunately because I was able to finish my shower in peace. Then it hit me, I must have a creepy little gremlin running around in my brain or how else or why for that matter would I scare off a seven year old by telling them I’m a ghost and their speaking to me from a grave?

My Gremlin said “why not?” True enough, I thought.

I mean, I was introduced to Alfred Hitchcock at an early age and who’s to say when we should learn about the scary stuff in other peoples heads?

And my final thoughts in the shower were this, why wasn’t the blade changed on this razor, and, if I could get my Gremlin to do a little more work on my book and pay a little less attention to that spinning wheel in my head I may get one of two things accomplished.

One, I’ll get more words on paper. Or two, I’ll just become a professional writer of snippets that want to become a story but could never get past my Gremlin.


Figuring it out.

Thank goodness for shows like The Walking Dead or I wouldn’t have blog time.

Furthermore, how, after all these years of growing their own food and barely getting by does one of the characters have a twizzler to chew on?

Now that’s keeping it real.

Speaking of writing, my whole purpose here to start with.

I, by no stretch of the imagination have the soul of a writer but I do have the spirit of one, and I want to be a writer because I have a lot of cool story ideas. With that being said, I am the type of, author wanna be, that must learn to write. It doesn’t come natural for me. I wish!

I have found on my learning journey so far, that there are many fabulous writers with some great advice on how to write. So I learn, and I learn, and I learn.

And off I go into the wild world of, teach me everything you know so I too can be a writer and an author someday.

Now, I’m up against a wall when I say this. I’m sensing a lot of contradicting information on how to be all I can be.

No worries though, that’s just more for me to learn.

So, here’s to all you fabulous writers teaching other writers like me to be a good writer.

Thank you and keep on rocking it out.

Tuck my tail and go home.

Sometimes in life you just have to take the smack down that life’s situations give you.

Take writing for example. You may start with the grand idea of being a rock star and writing that first novel.

You can count every word right up to the moment you reach that number you needed to reach before you can apply for novelship.

However, on the way to noveldom you come up short on several thousand words and just like a landlord if you are short on your rent, you get knocked out of your apartment or knocked back to say, a novella instead of the novel.

No worries though. Here is where life slaps the hell out of you and you surrender the struggle to noveldom or you get back on that pony and write.

That’s if you enjoy writing while you’re on your pony.

Either way, what ever life hands you do something so cliche that it makes you vomit lemons and lemonade.

The End

Blogging with Sharon Stone

Ah, the dreaded blog. A year ago when I started my blog I was scared to death to write anything on it. I was then, and still am, learning to be a writer. So, what was I so afraid of? I couldn’t even tell you now, but I can tell you this.

When I become intimidated about writing on my blog I simply ask myself, and let my self answer.

Myself: What would Sharon Stone do?

Myself: About what, being afraid to write in her blog?

Self: She did write childrens books in the movie Mosaic.

Self: And just like Sharon Stones, writer blog. Nobody red hers either.

The moral of my story is…Do not let Sharon Stone write your blog…

Add character to my character.

In life I am my own main character. Easy enough to share myself with my new friend, right? Well, yes and no.

If I had to put me in a book I swear I’d never finish writing all the stuff that consist of me. And, I’d never get the story written because there is constant sub plots to every bit of my being.

As for my main character in my book I was trying to tell my new friend about her and I swear I couldn’t verbalize her story fast enough. It was like my MC is a this, and then she’s that, and now she’s a murderer because of another thing. Through all that I learned that there is more to her than meets the eye.

I think what I did there by trying to explain my MC to my friend and at the same time explain myself to my friend I was surface surfing my character building. Now I want to hit the keyboard and add some more character to my character.

Finally, I just blew some fairy dust in my friends face and ran away. I heard that somewhere and decided to try it. It works.