So, I’m a night owl. Or I was a night watchman in a previous life. Or maybe I’m a vampire. Nah, vampires aren’t usually middle aged chubby ladies. I digress. I’m a night owl. I usually never go to bed before 2am. It’s been a lifelong curse that I don’t sleep well. Lately I’ve been trying to unwind by reading before bed. It’s less stimulating I hear, and I usually read at least one book a month for my book club. This month it was a murder mystery. Last night I was about 60% through the book and suddenly I knew what the rest of the book was going to be! With complete clarity, I knew what was going to happen. I didn’t just figure out the end, I knew what the characters were going to do, where the plot was headed and how it would end. I do this all the time with movies too. Sometimes I know what the rest of a movie is going to do within the first five minutes. My family absolutely hates it! No one ever wants to watch things with me (and I talk the whole time too!). Last night, when I figured out the rest of the book, I was so mad! My husband always asks me why figuring it out the stories makes me so mad. He thinks it’s because I’ve ruined the story for myself. But that’s not why. I get mad because I feel so frustrated with myself. Why haven’t I written that book? Why haven’t I written that film? I know I can spin a good yarn like the rest of them. I guess I’ve just been lazy. Or scared. Maybe it’s easier just to tell myself I can do the same, but never have to prove it. Let’s see if I can figure out the ending to my own story!