Lateness.

Okay, so just remembered that I was supposed to start my new blog thingy this week. Oops. Sorry. My apologies. So, I'm not gonna try and catch up or anything, just gonna jump in and do it. #turndownforwhat <--- ignore the random hashtag that's a song...

Tips this week is on writing. Specifically, on writing/editing my short stories. Ideally, this is how it would go:

Write the story. Don't think about it unless you have to. 

Spell check.

Take a 5 to 10 minute break. 

Do a quick skim, fixing any small mistakes I find. 

Read through again very intensely and trying to find mistakes. 

Underneath that, retype the whole thing, rewriting any parts that don't feel right, adding anything that feels more natural or adds emotion. 

Read through new version, trying to add small details here and there to give the story realism. 

Read through one more time, as a reader or editor, just trying to read the story as if it's not mine. 

So, that is how I do the writing process of my short stories if I have time. If I'm rushing to put together a blogpost, it looks a little more like this:

Write story.

Spell check.

Quick skim.

Look for mistakes. 

Rewrite a few parts where it doesn't feel right. 

Obviously, this won't work for every one, but I encourage you to try it, and if you do it differently, tell me about it in the comments! I want my comment section to be a place of conversation, arguments, encouragement, and tips! Just anything is amazing though. (If you made it this far in the post, comment with your favorite kind of soda. Woot.)

So, thanks everyone! Have a splendid rest of your Tuesday, and I'll see you on Friday or Saturday! 

Elsie

Still trying to figure out a not lame signature. 

(If you see this comment with "waffles and bacon")

I wonder if this is it.

After a long time of not being able to imagine it, I finally worked up the courage to write about Einstien. This may not seem like a big deal to you guys, but to me? I wasn't sure I wanted to remember that ngiht. But in the car Monday morning, I suddenly knew that I needed to. So I did. I almost got carsick because it's hard to read or write in the car for me. But I did. And I'm writing this blog post on Tuesday morning, and probably won't post it until Wednesday or Thursday. Because his death affected me. A whole lot. And now? I'm healing, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm healed. There's a big difference. So here you go. This is called I wonder if this is it.

Today is the first time we will come home and you won't get here to greet us,or that we won't have to pick you up and watch you run around the car, happy to see everyone. Instead, I will face a grave in the yard. The last words we ever said about you while You were alive will not stop ringing in my head.

“I wonder if this is it.”

Will they ever, ever, stop? I wonder that as the words repeat to the sound of your feet walking down the hallway. Though it's only in my head. I can never hear that sound again from you. 

“I wonder if this is it.”

She was given the blessing of holding you while you choked and died. I would give anything for that. I hid in my room, hoping you would last until the morning, and I could enjoy your last few days. I shook my head silently when she said those six painful words. 

"I wonder if this is it."

I heard sobs shaking someone's soul. I didn't want to think about what that might mean. You had to be with us. You were part of our family. I waited, and the cries did not stop. I stared at the clock, not wanting to believe that you could possibly be gone. 

"I wonder if this is it."

I went down the steps slowly, not wanting to disturb the slumber of the children. My heart was slow,but each beat lasted the eternity before I knew you were gone. 

"I wonder if this is it."

She holds you, surrounded by everyone who loved you. I can't tell if you breathe,and I'm sure deep inside,I knew. 

"I wonder if this is it."

She looks around, and mom touches a lock of your hair. “At least  I got to be here.” The words escape from her mouth and my brother puts his arms around my shoulders. I try to stand,but instead I crumble to the ground. How could this be all? Dad beckons me over and I scoot on my knees to you. He puts his arm around me and I melt into him, soaking his shoulder in tears. 

"I wonder if this is it."

My biggest regret in this world is that I did not touch your dead body, feeling your wrinkly skin, cold and gone. Feel your wet nose ,no breath coming from it. 

"I wonder if this is it."

I wonder that all the time. 

"I wonder if this is it."

Sometimes I believe it.

"I wonder if this is it."

Sometimes I want to throw the words away forever. 

"I wonder if this is it."

Sometimes I run outside to where your dead cold shell is deep in the ground and cry forever more.

“I wonder if this is it.”

I wonder if this is it.

But this is not it. 

The Letter

Signed by me. Letters across the page. Have you really left me? Will you think of me ever again? Will you read the words I say, or just throw the words away. 

The pain intensifies and I make a cross and circle. They show my love to you. They show it, But will you come to the show? Or will you throw the ticket in the trash? 

I fold up my love and walk towards my office. You know, the one I used to share with you? I take out an envelope a and press the paper into it. Did you ever think I would do this?

I lick the envelope, my hands shaking and making a mess. Do you think I can do this, or did you never believe? Why do I keep doing this? After so much time?

My boots go on my feet and my coat crosses over my shoulders. The buttons come up my waist and I tie the scarf on my neck. My love for you keeps me walking through this snow to my car. 

I keep walking, walking to you. I will hand this letter to you, signed with my love, and I am so close. Too close. My heart comes out of me and goes ahead to be free with you.

The paper, so old and thin, is something I've held in my hands for too long. I promised I would. I must remember that. I promised you, whom I love, though you may not ha known when I had done so. 

I sing the song. Our song. 

I dance the dance. Our dance. 

Our love. 

I touch the stone, your name upon it. 

Underneath is mine, waiting for me to be lowered underneath it. I remember so long ago when we buried you in this ground, and I knew that someday you would be able to see me. To love me again. And I set the letter down, and I know that my spirit is all that is left of me. That my body is Already in the ground. 

I love you, and I give you to letter. 

And I give you myself, for I am with you now. 

And forever. 

Just like we promised with the silver bands around our fingers. 

Just as we promised with the wrinkles we saw on our faces without shame. 

Just like I promised with the letter signed with my name and xoxo. And all of my love.