Me? Writing romance? Not anytime soon.
Today I commented to a friend that I’d written a story for Valentine’s Day.
She smiled and said, “Oh Jo! I didn’t really pick you for the romantic author type! How lovely!”
I laughed. “Just because it’s a Valentine’s Day story, doesn’t mean it’s romantic.”
She looked at me as though she were waiting for a punch line.
“No, really. This is not a romantic story. This is a story for anyone who has had their heart broken, who knows the sting of rejection—” I shrugged.
“It doesn’t end well, does it?” she asked sadly.
“That depends entirely on your perspective!” I replied.
If you’re one of the anti-Valentine’s Day crew, or if you just like creepy stories, check out my chilling little tale: A Curious Valentine’s Day. It’s free to read at WordyNerdBird Writes.
A horrible chain of events occurred in Melbourne today. A man drove a car into a group of people, killing some and injuring others, including children. Some of the injured remain in a critical condition.
It wasn’t terrorism. Just an angry man in a car.
Funny, though. Nobody has mentioned his religion, and there have been no popular calls for his particular ethnic group to explain or apologise for his actions.
Nor should they be expected to. Ever.
It’s his responsibility, not theirs.
But you can bet your sweet patootie that it would be a different story if he were a Muslim or a recent immigrant from the Middle East.
We’re not judgemental, though. Nor racist. Mmmkay?
Tonight as I was driving home from work, Raf Epstein on ABC 774 was asking the audience what “crazy theories” they’d fallen for or actually believed.
Callers confessed to believing in ghosts and poltergeists and premonitions.
One female caller suggested that Mick Malthouse was a Collingwood plant at the Carlton Football Club, because it was the only way to make sense of the poor job he’s doing as coach.
“IKNOWRIGHT!” I said excitedly to nobody in particular. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying for months!”
In fact, when Collingwood clobbered Carlton on Friday night, in Malthouse’s record-breaking 715th game as coach, my uncharacteristically few tweets were thus:
Personally, I’m not convinced that it’s such a crazy theory.
Besides, for a die-hard Carlton tragic, it beats believing that my team is so bad that they don’t need anyone to conspire against them in order to lose every week.