You sound like idiot, sitting there laughing by yourself.
Ok, Mama, I’m not sitting here laughing by myself. I’m sitting here with my laptop writing my memoir and I just re-read a very funny part.
Memoir. What do you have to memoir about? Memoir is for retired war general, not for someone like you.
I’m not writing a war memoir, I’m writing a funny memoir about my childhood.
Don’t write any funny story about me. It will be lie.
How am I supposed to write a memoir about my childhood and not write about you?
I agree, it will be challenge.
Maybe I’ll have you die in childbirth. Or papa will murder you when I am very young.
Papa murder me? I’d like to see him try.
Or there can be a battle that you two have while I’m sleeping in my crib. I can have some suppressed memories about it. And then the trauma of learning that papa murdered you. Flashbacks. Although that’s going to take me in the direction of tragi-comic and not strictly humorous. Ah well, slice of life! And maybe Slice o’ Mama if papa used a chainsaw, hahaha.
You are just like that drug addict who lied to Oprah.
OMG, do you really think so? His book was a bestseller!
I don’t want to be in your book. I forbid you to write it.
No problemo, mamacita! What do you think of Motherless Russia as the title?
* * *
As you can see, the writing process is going well. I’ve pre-awarded myself a few Pulitzers and some other awards that I’m much too modest to mention, so now it’s just the details of getting it written!
Thank you for reading my blog and for your support. I can’t wait to say “I couldn’t have done it without you” or possibly “it’s your fault that my book didn’t get written/picked up by an agent/published/bought.”
Because I can turn on you in a minute.
And I will.
One year ago ...