what if I couldn’t do any of those things? What if I was trapped in a house, in my room, in my bed, alone and in pain? What if I couldn’t bathe myself? What if getting to the toilet required a monumental effort equaled only by getting back to my bed afterward?
Joy left home at 18 with a boy her minister father didn’t approve of. Joy and Mike marry in Vegas and arrive in LA. Shortly thereafter Joy discovers she’s pregnant and before she gives birth Mike is killed in a motorcycle accident. Broke, pregnant and widowed, Joy calls home. Her father, Art, says, “You’ve made your bed. Now lie in it.” He hangs up on her.
Seriously? Pizza and beer? Forget his feet. There was a lot to work with here. “Thomas L. Purdue. You’re about to make me swoon.” She picked up the beer and drank. Then took another bite of pizza, closed her eyes and savored.
I hardly ever get mail from readers, but this came through via my web site and put a smile on my face. It’s an entertaining piece to say the least, and I smiled broadly after I first read it. The reader had a number of issues with my story execution, …