Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Meshugana, You Kids Are Giving Me a Heart Attack, and Other Rantings

I found myself calling Elke "Misery" the other day and remembered that there was only one other reason I should be calling my 7-month-old baby the same name Steven King donned his psycho-fan horror novel.

Nana, my beloved grandmother, Alice. The woman I named my baby after. Misery was one of her many nicknames for me. Misery! She'd scream. Even in a mall when we were shopping, she'd holler. "Misery, where are you!?"


Blame it on the writer's block.

Update: Blame it not on the writer's block, but more specficially on the opening of the short story that I'm working on... And. Cant. Get. Right. In my imagination, my short story is tied to a bed and Kathy Bates is cracking it's ankles with a sledgehammer.

Viola! Misery.

(Man, that picture is scary.)

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