This one was just to get the Juice flowing. I’m just scribbling. Gosh!
One serving of Juice:
My mother stood at the counter with a salad bowl in one hand and a towel in the other as she danced to her favorite Salsa music. She set the towel down and tossed the salad with her hands as she danced. Tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, avacado. Delicious.
“Mamita!” She spun to face me. Our salad was already up in the air. “I think you are confused. I’m pretty sure that lettuce isn’t a bowl of mardi gras beads you can toss to the crowd.”
“Hija! I’m not tossing beads! I’m…uh, well what does it matter. She wiped her hands and shook the stray lettuce out of her hair. Anything new today? Where’s your sister? I know she’s not really study partners with that boy.” She gave me the look. I may as well have been el diablo the way she was looking at me.
I glanced at the salad on the floor and began to step away. She gave me a playful pinch on the shoulder.
“Ouch!” I quickly dodged the next one.
“You can’t hide it from me forever hija
. It all comes out with the wash.” I knew she was right. She always was. That’s the last time I kept a secret from my mother, or maybe it was the last time I kept one for Angela. It didn’t matter. It was the last time. I was waiting for it to come out in the wash. Better to wait.
So what is this first draft? Let’s look at the recipe first. It is a sprig of horrible. A dash of frustration. A life jacket labeled, “I hope you can do it,” with all that comes the magic of jumping into revisions…but not yet. First comes pity, self loathing…and eventually a Puño of “Aha I know how to fix it!”
First drafts are all about love. Let the mess begin…
Happy writing over the weekend friends!