THROWING SPAGHETTI

When I was six, my aunt came to stay with us. She was the coolest of the cool—the wild child—giver of the best gifts that made my mother sigh—and I idolized her. One night before dinner, she unknowingly handed me a life lesson that still sticks (pun intended). Mom, if you’re reading this, now’s the time to look away. Seriously, stop scrolling.

“Let’s see if the spaghetti’s ready,” my aunt said with a glint in her eye. I was all set, ready to slurp down some long, silky noodles like a tiny Italian food critic. But then she turned around, and instead of serving it up, she chucked that pasta at the wall. AND. IT. STUCK. I stood there, mouth agape, eyes wide in shock because throwing food in our kitchen was not only not allowed, it was practically a felony. “Good, it’s done. Don’t tell your mother.” Six-year-old me was floored, and if it was possible, her cool factor with this six-year-old went up another ten points. To this day, I can’t boil pasta without thinking of her.

Since then, I’ve thrown a lot of spaghetti at walls—both literal and metaphorical. Jobs? Check. Relationships? You bet. Random hobbies I convinced myself would definitely become lifelong passions? Oh yeah. Take skydiving, for example. That noodle hit the wall and slid down faster than my stomach during freefall. Yoga? Same deal. No matter how many times I try it (and believe me, I’ve tried—baby goats, puppies, the works), that piece of pasta just won’t stick.

So, where does pasta flinging fit with my writing? (I wish you could see my smirk as I type this.) That’s where the real spaghetti-fest happens. When I start a new novel, I fling so much pasta at the walls that I could carb-load every runner of the Boston Marathon. Index cards with characters, scenes, motives, and dialogue? All slapped up on 84 square feet of wall space as I begin to outline. It’s part brainstorming, part “Will this actually work?” and part chaotic noodle-flinging creative joy. Some ideas splatter to the floor with all the grace of uncooked linguine. Others cling to the wall, getting comfy with each new scene and character that joins them.

I even get a chuckle as I re-read my work, thinking back to how a plot twist was born from a random spaghetti toss. Like when I wrote A Shiver on the River. I had one character pegged as the killer, only for another character to tap me on the shoulder like, “Hey, I got this. Hold my spaghetti.” Turns out the first one’s motive was still a little al dente.

So, where am I going with this? Well, consider this blog your permission slip to keep throwing things at the wall. Try a new hobby. Read a genre you’d normally avoid. Rearrange your cubicle in a way that says, “I could thrive in organized chaos.” Just don’t get hung up when something slides to the floor. It’s not a reflection on you—it just means that particular piece of pasta needed a little more time in the pot.

Until next month!
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Hi, I’m author MJ Mac, and I want to extend a heartfelt thank you for taking the time to read this month's blog. The Kennedy Reeves Mystery series is a collection of whodunits that have captured the hearts of over 60,000 readers! Many say it’s the perfect blend of Murder She Wrote meets The Love Boat. With a crafted mix of eccentric characters, plot twists, “ah-ha” moments, cliffhangers, and a cruise director you can’t help but root for, it’s no wonder the series has garnered a devoted following and over 400 four-star reviews.

I appreciate your support and hope you continue to join Kennedy on her thrilling adventures! Stay tuned for more updates, and happy reading!