Fiction writers lead a hard life. No joke. The other day I had to do a grateful exercise. You know, the kind where you have to think of a few thousand things you are grateful for in order to stem off soul corruption and utter despair before breakfast. (I eat a late breakfast and wake up with a busy mind. What can I say? I’m…special.) Anywho, I started off my gratefuls with, “I’m grateful that people aren’t always trying to kill me.” Then I realized I had used a totally unnecessary “that” while thinking that I was grateful that people aren’t always trying to kill me. That was totally disappointing, because I’ve been on a campaign for several years to torture and kill unnecessary “thats” due to the fact that they waste everybody’s time for no good reason at all.
After I recovered from that, I started reconsidering my very first grateful. I mean, was I certain that people weren’t trying to kill me? Just because I’m not aware of the death attempts doesn’t mean that they aren’t happening. On the other hand, certainly most people are not trying to kill me, and they’ve probably never tried. But I know for a fact that my older brother has tried to kill me at least a few times. Granted, that was a long time ago, and I tried to kill him in kind. I’m also certain that there is no single person who is always trying to kill me. “Always” is a superlative after all. Okay, I thought, that sealed the deal. I could definitely be grateful that people weren’t always trying to kill me.
My next thought was that I could be grateful for not being paranoid. Vigilant, sure. Definitely not paranoid. But should I be? Increasingly, more of my neighbors are installing video doorbells. The one thing all these neighbors have in common? Me, as their neighbor. That definitely seemed suspicious. And there’s not even any doubt that multiple government agencies are tracking my internet search history. (I haven’t searched “Allah, Allah, jihad, jihad” in several months, but if you do it once!)
At that point, I decided to call off the grateful exercise and finish my “fuzzy-berry-salad” (consisting of all the misfit and slightly moldy fruit that everyone else in my family tries to throw away when they think I’m not looking). That’s when it struck me. Fuzzy berries! That was something I could be grateful for, and no one and nothing could take that away from me…unless…
If You Wish to Start Reading The Green Ones…
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these scenes of Boundaries, Season 2 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!