went to a pub one night, and the live act was a German band called "Sexy Toxins." This is their front man down to a T (he wore ass-less chaps tho!).
TMW... you go to grab your garden hose to find a bunch of wasps nesting in the coils. Due to the cold, they couldn't fly oh, so natural reaction was to Stomp Them. However, due to your love for wasps, you try to find survivors and find one. And put it in a bottle
TMW... the passing of a character was harder than you were expecting it to be. Granted, he died of old age and I still haven't written the second book in his series. What I'm writing now is technically the Third or a Side Story involving his wife who had become immortal during the events of the first book
TMW it's so windy the doors open up on their own. While you're reading. In an empty apartment. If only this happened at night. Would've been more awesome!
TMW you are about to do another writing stint but your brain decides to shoot down all creativity and make you feel bad. How is it that a pink-grey mass of organ no bigger than our hands when cupped together can bestow upon us the gift of conscience and life while also doing everything in its damn power to torture us!?
I wore chaps to high school one spring on a dare. Principle couldn't keep a straight face as he sent me home on a two day suspension. Fun memories. TMW you realize how long it's been since high school. Huh.
TMW the snowplow piles up a foot of hard-packed snow across the base of your newly-shoveled driveway. And the driver waves as he goes by.
I don't miss this about the North. My dad always had me out there shoveling for hours when he was mad at me (mind you, we had a snowblower, but he was mad at me and I deserved it, I'm sure) and these little bastards would drive on by with plows attached to their trucks, boxing every freshly shoveled driveway in and laughing the whole way down. I remember throwing the shovel in anger and walking inside to tell my dad only to receive "why are you inside when there's still snow on my driveway?" I'd look in shock, every damn time. Then I'd get some variation of "What are you still staring at me for?" I'd shrug in defeat, and go shovel the same shit I just shoveled for the past hour or so and grumble the whole time. On repeat, all winter long.
That moment when you've finished writing the song but you still don't know what happens to the guy...
That Special Moment When ... you create a really good character that you have so much fun writing, and the more you write the more you uncover about their potential (as a character) and then think "Damn, I could write an entire book on them alone."
That Appalling Writing Moment When... You discover that one of your lead character’s diplomatic plans basically boils down to: “I’ll do you this one little favor if you (1) upend your entire social structure — the very thing you’re currently having a civil war over might I add, and (2) allow me to drag in a country that has absolutely no business meddling in your civil war at all because reasons, kthxbai.” -_- And to think I was trying to write him as a sage, wise leader.