My fourteen-year-old son is making pizza from scratch tonight. He’s doing a great job but he is easily frustrated. I hope he uses what he learns and tries again. It’s a great effort and it’s going to be yum.
I’m at the kitchen table, drinking a Destana by Valley Road Vineyards while his dad helps him grate cheese. Sister is doing her project for Day 4, art using blue, at the kitchen counter.
My thought for the day is a realization that I probably should be writing what I’m most drawn to. I am absolutely drawn to history and so have always thought that I need to write either nonfiction or straight up historical fiction, either based on a real historical figure or purely fictional. But yesterday I watched one of my all-time favorite movies with my daughter, Made In Heaven and it made me remember why I’m drawn to movies like that. It’s the met in heaven, fated love, love through space and time, genre…if that’s a genre. I’ve always steered away from topics like that even thought I’m absolutely fascinated because highbrow literature does not cover such things. But is that what I want to do? Wannabe Iowa-style dour, cynical short stories?
Let the art come out how it needs to.