I suppose once you are a mom or dad you can never stop being one, even if your kids are grown and long since moved away. Just before my after Thanksgiving dinner stroll, my Dad made sure to tell me which side of the street to walk on. It’s a reflex, a muscle that forms when kids are toddlers and you have to steer them clear of doorknobs and hot stoves. Then it strengthens in the teen years on any given day for any particular reason.
When I tell my children (who are no longer children) to remember to make good choices, or to put on a hat, I am confirming the paradigm of parenthood; once a parent always a parent.
It is the same for me and writing. Once I started, I have never stopped being a writer. When I’m in the car, on a walk, flying to distant lands, or doing the dishes, my brain is writing even if my fingers are not. I can’t shut it off. The most recent evidence was discovered on stray bookmarks and scraps of paper I found when cleaning my car: make my characters more multi-dimensional, don’t forget the dream sequence, Red, Capacious. I haven’t a clue what most of these brain-billets relate to. They are simply tiny corners of my mind unconnected and floating in space, and apparently, on the passengers side of my Subaru. Scary.
Instead of worrying about me walking into traffic, maybe my Dad should be telling me to take my Omega 3’s and to seek professional help…for my car of course.
What can’t you shut off?