When Oldest Junior Hall was six, Juniorest Hall came along. Maybe it’s a boy thing, but Juniorest Hall was a particularly stinky baby. Big brother complained all the time about the smell in the house. All. The. Time. And then somewhere (I’ve always suspected it was the cartoon Ghostbusters), Oldest Junior Hall learned about the gas mask. He thought that would be the perfect solution to his stinky problem. He asked for a gas mask. All. The. Time. At first, I thought it was funny. Then it became annoying. And then it became a story to go down in Hall Family Lore. Because Oldest Junior Hall sat on Santa’s lap and ASKED FOR A GAS MASK.
“Ho, ho, ho,” said Santa. “Why do you want a gas mask, little boy?”
“Because it smells in my house,” said the little boy. “And I mean bad.”
Sometimes, when I’m writing, I think of the gas mask and what that little boy said on Santa’s lap. Because I read what I’ve written and think, “Boy. Something smells here. And I mean bad.”
Fortunately, I have strategies now to deal with stinky writing. But you’ll have to go over to The Muffin to see my latest post if you want to read what the strategies are.
I didn’t share the gas mask story there. I thought maybe we could keep that just between us, okay?