In the process of writing fiction and taking an interest in what advice is given on Instagram, Reedsy, and Reddit, few things have resonated with me as much to particular quotes from writers I’ve come to respect as personal favourites.

The first is a well known Kurt Vonnegut anecdote about buying an envelope:

“(talking about when he tells his wife he’s going out to buy an envelope) Oh, she says well, you’re not a poor man. You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I’m going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don’t know. The moral of the story is, is we’re here on Earth to fart around. And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals.”

The second is an affirmation of the Vonnegut quote from David Sedaris with a similar experience.

“I said, I went to the post office, and he said, why would you do that? He said, you don’t even need to go to the post office. If you have something you want mailed, you have the hotel called Fedex and they come and pick it up.

And I said, I don’t I don’t want to live like you. You know, I don’t want to sit at home and order things. I want to go to the post office. And I went to the post office, and it was remarkable. The post office was remarkable. It was in Alabama. And the guys, you know, a young man with the Sir Lancelot haircut and I have never heard an accent like this.

And I said, where are you from? And he it’s from, it’s like a small town Alabama accent. And oh, just the conversation that we had was just beautiful, you know, and I don’t I don’t want to I want to live, you know, I want to be out there, I want to I don’t want to sit at home and order everything online, and I don’t want to. Don’t want to use all the shortcuts, I mean. Sometimes you go to the post office and the person is just grumpy and they’re not, but even you can even get something out of that.”

Living life even in the mundane activities has become a great way of informing the potential for future characters, places, and descriptions. For example, here’s a relatively simple outing I had with my children yesterday that reminds me of how the mundane moments still give us something to feel:

I took my children to Dollarama yesterday. My youngest loves Dollarama, he’s a consumer by nature and his ADHD thrives on the dopamine of acquiring something new no matter how insignificant it is. My eldest was more or less just along for the ride. With Spirit Halloween opening up and Michael’s having their Halloween items for sale, we thought we’d go take a look at the dollar store to see if they had anything on the cheap side that could help us out with a DIY haunted house project we are undertaking. Unfortunately, Dollarama is behind the curve on Halloween, but we wandered the aisles for a minutes anyway.

From across the store, we heard the painful sound of “6-7,” from a customer. This was loud enough it was echo-ing off every corner of the store and whenever you saw another customer or staff member you’d see their soul leave their body as the noise polluted their ears. Except for my son. He loved it. At seven, this was the height of comedy.

I assumed it was just some hyperactive kids on summer break and left it at that. The noise continued. With it the thought of wanting to call out that this person was an idiot. Picking fights with strangers isn’t wise and even less wise when you’re shopping with your kids, so I left it at that. The sound grew closer.

The source of the squawking was a tall-ish, somewhat clean-cut man in 40s with his daughter in tow. She looked mortified. He believed that this was the height of comedy. Briefly I gave him the benefit of doubt that maybe this was Tourette syndrome and not just some asshole intent on embarrassing his child in public. His pleased nature for what he was doing and openly mocking his child about doing it cancelled that theory out.

It was a rare occasion where we able to leave Dollarama without buying anything. My eldest and I were having no part of this and were ready to leave as soon as the lack of Halloween items were clear and the persistence of the asshole behaviour continued. It took longer to convince my son that a protien drink from the neighbouring No Frills grocery store could give him the same dopamine as poorly constructed bubble gun.

Snacks in hand we made it back to our car. Across from it was a rusty motorhome with what appeared to be a metallic iguana climbing out of the spare tire. This warranted further examination of the vehicle which included plastic rats glued to it as well as a metal sign for Umbrella Industries, something I knew just enough about to place as being from Resident Evil. Whether this is all part of an ongoing theme or just generally leaning into post-apocalyptic vibes, I haven’t done enough research to determine.

The point is a trip to the dollar store gave me an experience. One far more meaningful than sitting on the couch ordering plastic spiders and cobwebs off of Amazon. I would rather experience the douchebag yelling “6-7” than watch it on an episode of whatever lousy sitcoms are presently on the air at the moment, and even now when I do encounter people like this in other media, I have more lived experience to appreciate it more.

The was something beautiful about a chaotic vehicle, and there was something useful about being able to build a character profile of a shitty Dad trolling his child in Dollarama. There was something great about experiencing the different reactions of my children.

Even if you aren’t a touch grass person and the idea of getting outside holds little appeal for you, touching the faux marble of your local mall and living your best life under their fluorescent lighting and industrial air conditioning has the potential to give you a moment.