Scarlott Letters

Just some stuff I find funny…

Channeling My Inner Erma

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I am in soooo much trouble. My good friend, Kari Collins, who is a fabulously witty woman and fantastic writer, picked me up at 5:15 a.m. to leave for the airport, on our way to Dayton, Ohio for the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop. What is wrong with that sentence? I hardly know where to start. First, do you know how early you have to get up to be ready at 5:15 a.m.? If you have a penis, you probably said 5 o’clock, and this morning at 3:30 I hated you with a passion usually reserved for the very thin or the very rich. Second, Dayton. Yeah, Dayton. Third, Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop? I’m out of my depth, out of the box, out of my league and out of my mind. But here I am, on a plane to Dayton, which is one sentence I never thought I’d write.

Writing is barely even a hobby, much less a career choice for me. This blog actually grew more out of techno nerdiness than an ability to write. Several years ago, on a trip to the Caribbean with friends, I had a brand spanking new iPad. It was first generation and it had been on the market about a week. It was shiny and new and I was giddy about my new toy. I was on the cutting edge and it was the start of my love affair with all things Apple. There were ten of us on this trip and instead of each of us individually trying to keep the poor saps back home updated and sufficiently envious, I was nominated to write about our travels and email it to everyone. I had the technology, so I got the job…and a monster/star was born. Now, I mostly blog when I have something to say that is too long for a Facebook post. And this qualifies me for a “writer’s workshop” how? We shall see.

Upon arrival in Dayton, I experienced something new…a cab driver who had to put the address in his Garmin before departure. This is not New York City, people. What cab driver in a city about the size of Midland has to put a major hotel in his GPS? Not a good one, that’s who. Also, it looked like he lived in the cab and the headliner was held in place by randomly placed thumbtacks in roughly the shape of well, someone’s head. It did not instill confidence. Judging by the look on Kari’s face, I was not the only one with doubts about surviving a cross country plane trip only to crash and burn on the ten mile cab ride to the hotel.

I’ll make this short since it’s been a long day and end with this evening’s festivities. Phil Donohue was the keynote speaker at tonight’s banquet. He might seem like an odd choice, unless you know that he and Erma lived across the street from each other back when they were both making it big in the 70s. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that his address was not only inspiring but choked me up a little. By the time he finished, I found myself thinking “I AM a writer.” It was either that or those lying margaritas.



One thought on “Channeling My Inner Erma

  1. Glad to know you survived the cab ride AND Phil Donahue.  I spent hours watching him back in the 70’s, then I woke up one day and realized that I was at complete odds with everything he espoused, and I went off of him cold turkey.  But good to know that he was friends with Erma, who I loved, and that he can inspire aspiring writers.

    If there is more to tell on the cab ride, you can clue me in later.


      Cindy Walton

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