The Writer's Shovel of Death

Part 2

I'm traveling through the story notes I keep on my phone. With The Writer's Shovel of Death, I have come to thin the herd and look for my next project. It's night, and although the sky is moonless it is full of stars. At this elevation, away from any town or city, the stars illuminate the path I have to walk. I'm looking for something I could write in a flash fiction format—not too emotional.

As I flip to the next story idea, I can tell it's non-fiction because it's me who's pitching the idea, unlike the 4am Tarot idea where it was the main character making the pitch.

Julie, this idea is pitching to me. Letters to Jordan...remember? You made a lot of notes on this one. You love this idea. You want a relationship with your biological niece. She's not interested in a relationship with you. But that doesn't mean all the wonderful rich stories your birthmother shared with you need to go unheard. If your niece isn't interested, then maybe other women could benefit from the wisdom....

I interrupt my idea. "First of all, the title is bad. Second, that's gonna be really emotional. I don't want to spend hours sobbing at my computer, especially for something NOBODY CARES ABOUT! No one cares!"

I can see in her eyes that my idea can't accept the brutal reality of this process. She pleads with me. Julie, you wrote notes on so many things your birthmother told you about life. You were her daughter. Your niece is her granddaughter. Isn't it your role to pass these stories on to the next generation of women in your family?

I start to walk past this idea, saying, "I never said I was going to delete the stories. I'm just not going to put them out there." I keep walking.

But Julie, it's a family legacy that you're turning your back on."

And without any words, in a single swift motion, I slam the blade of the shovel into the back of the head of the idea for Letters to Jordan.

"The family legacy doesn't include me," I say to no one.