At a writer’s conference, we were asked to read something we wrote. I read the article about my frustration with my sweet Al. You might have remembered it, Traveling with Sweet Al and checking into a posh hotel in Reno, Nevada. Everyone laughed and laughed.
An editor in the group said, “Send me one of your humorous articles for my publication.” A broker for writers asked me to join his team of writers also. “Your humorous articles will work for a marriage counseling magazine.”
Who would have thought I could write for a marriage counseling magazine? Make money writing about Al? About couples who fight? And get paid for it? I was about to hit Pay Dirt with a 300 word humorous piece.
I arrived home, kissed Al at the door. He thought I was excited to see him and I should go away more often.
I looked him over in his camouflage. He told me about his hunting that morning. He shot and missed a ten-point buck. His good shooting eye wasn’t so good any more.
I listened to his tale of woe. Even camouflaged, Al couldn’t hide from me. Like a ravenous dog, I was drooling and licking my chops; Al was looking like pork chops to a starving writer.
I moved to the computer. He didn’t know how rich he could make me. I’d tell him later. I was counting my money in my mind, but my fingers froze to the computer.
Al looked at me with loving eyes. I felt a little guilty, but I went for it anyway. I wrote a 300 word humorous piece and hit send to both publications. They might be carrying stories about Sweet Al soon.
I know there is a bone of contention buried somewhere around here, I need a shovel. I’m digging until I hit Pay Dirt. I might be asking advice from a marriage counselor soon, but for now, I am going for it.
The Final Brushstroke! Digging up trouble can make for a great story, but not necessarily good for a great marriage.
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