My brother turned 40 this week and we celebrated in high style at the family's favorite watering hole.
My sister Emma was kind enough to play designated which meant I could drink to my heart's content.
I'm happy for my brother. He's recently started writing screenplays and enjoys it in the way that those who don't write have a hard time understanding.
His adult-ed teacher is this dick from community theater who suffers from an acute case of biggus-fishus-littlus-pondus. The one good thing about the class is that it keeps the students writing. The only advice I gave my brother was to know when the teacher has a point and to know when he's full of shit.
I'll freely admit I'm sort of relieved that my brother and I aren't in the same writing game. Sibling rivalry looks damn awful in middle age.
He's been churning out shorts for his class and for his own. He happens to be friends with two professional screenwriters (yup, you've heard of them) and what knocks me out is that they've been taking his efforts seriously.
I don't know why I'm always surprised when established writers give a hand up to beginner writers, but I am.
I'm hoping his forties end up being a great time in all aspects and on all levels.