WRITING CONTEST

Hey fellow writer's. There is a flash fiction writing contest offered by WRITE TO DONE. You can find it here:

WRITE TO DONE

I have entered, and here is what I wrote:

Just One Of Those Days

           This is just one of those days. I left the house at 4:45am to be at 1st Dental in Sierra Vista, about a 70 mile trip. My appointment was for 7:00am. I pulled in the parking lot at 6:13am. I was so happy when a dental technician came out to my truck right away and said I might as well come on in.

As soon as I got inside he said come on up, asked all the questions about insurance, etc., and immediately started inputting my information into the computer. So cool. Didn’t make me wait ’till my 7 o'clock appointment. The whole process went way more smooth than I had thought it would, better than I could have ever hoped for. I was loving these guys. I was checking out before my originally scheduled appointment.

I need to mention here that I was there to get my dentures adjusted. So, I paid my bill, and when the lady handed me my credit card back with the receipt for $477 she told me the guy who comes to pick up my dentures, to do whatever it is he does with them, would be out until Monday. SHOCK!!!! When I made the appointment they said I would be without my teeth, toothless, overnight. I had mentally prepared myself for that all week long. Doable. This…shocked me. I told her if only I would have known that I would have waited until the guy was going to be in next week to make my appointment. She handed me an appointment card for Monday, April 28, at 8:30am.

I have Church this Sunday, and was to be at the Benson Museum Saturday to work. Activities I love, and my little church ladies and museum ladies depend on me.

When things like this happen to me my knee jerk reaction is to revert to mental levelers. Thoughts that help me level out, to lessen the severity of the situation, so I can cope.  So while driving the 70 miles back home to Vail, AZ, feeling dismayed, disconcerted, insecure without my teeth, toothless, I started in with the mental levelers.

#1. This won't kill me. I’m still alive. I always seem to start with this one.

#2. If people think I'm ugly without teeth they'll think how good looking I am Monday when I get my teeth back.

#3. Humbling experiences build character. I'm developing a strong character (if I live).

#4. I'll have a legitimate reason to hide away & read until Monday.

#5. Without teeth I can’t chow down on cookies and hamburgers like I've been doing so my pants will fit better by Monday. 

Whoa! I'm doubly getting excited about how good I'm going to look on Monday.

O.K. I'm starting to cheer up.

#6. I’ll save money on Sea Bond.

Then another fall through the floor embarrassing moment when I had to revert to mental levelers popped to mind. I live out in the country. The middle of the desert in Southeastern Arizona. One day after leaving Benson, the town I go to to shop for groceries, I had to pee. I pulled off on a dirt road that, if followed to the end, went to the Dobson Ranch. Safely out of site from Cascabel Road, the road home, I parked, stepped out of my truck, pulled my pants down, and proceeded to water the dusty dry desert. How do you spell relief? P-E-E. Well, mid-pee here comes a truck full of mexican men who work at the Dobson Ranch on their way to town. They were fairly kind; didn’t get too loud in their cajoling. Nothing I could do; open view to them; caught with my pants down. What could I do? They passed. I gathered myself, and on the way home I started in on my mental levelers.

#1. This won't kill me. I’m still alive.

#2. When I was in college my friends and I would get drunk and moon people on purpose.

#3. Some people do the full monte and streak for fun or political reasons. And they are sober.

#4. I don't speak spanish so any hurtful things they said won’t ring in my ears over the years.

#5. At least I didn't wet my pants.

#6. When I get really old I can think about how good my ass looked way back when I got caught with my pants down out in the middle of the desert. You know, compared to when I'm a hundred and three years old.

So, happy Wednesday, here’s to Monday, April 28th, at 8:30am!

I'm hanging in there!!!!!

WRITER'S DIGEST / YOUR STORY competition #56 - My entry

Prompt: Write a short story, of 750 words or fewer, that begins with the following line of dialogue: “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.”

(You can be funny, poignant, witty, etc.; it is, after all, your story.) You can submit your words to this prompt here:  Writer's Digest Your Story Competition #56

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
CLOWNS - WE WANT TO HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here is my little ditty:

          “If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it.”  Thirty bobbing waist high party quaffed little heads made me wish I had a dramamine in my pocket. “I can’t hear you if you all yell at once.” I knew from experience that one of these prepubescent groupies yelled dog. They’ve already got with the program that the clown was going to make some kind of simulated animal once the the balloons came out of the bulging pocket of my floppy black, yellow, and white checkered clown costume. Besides, at their age you could make a giraffe, call it a dog, and the little smurf’s would be happy with that!

 Without warning I felt the direct hit from a good sized water gun drench my ear down to my ear drum. I turned just in time to see a freckled faced towhead bending over with laughter, cajoled on by his little friends, who quickly constrained themselves as soon as my clown face eyes found the shooter. “What do you think is in my other pocket you little gangster?! I never let myself be surrounded by the enemy unarmed!,” and I was returning fire before my inappropriate retort had reached their little ears, enjoying how quick my draw had become, I hadn’t become a clown just yesterday ya know, and the fact that my water pistol was bigger than this little waif’s made me cocky. “Run for your lives!” I yelled. The whole assembly of little munchkins scattered.

In the middle of the chaos stood the little birthday girl, her perfect blond ringlets were starting to droop from being in the crossfire of the water gun war, but she had a determined defiance plastered on her face. Not one to run to mommy. I like this girl. “Why don’t I have a gun?! It’s my birthday!!” She shouted out.

Since I was the hired clown I felt obligated to cover the defenseless little princess. I duck and weave, duck and weave, and roll the last three feet to her side. “Here you go Sally! Do you know how to use one of these things?” I was willing to entrust my spare water gun that I keep in my back clown pants pocket.

“Uh-huh.”

Water began pouring off my big red nose. “Don’t shoot me Sally! I’m the one that came to save you! C’mon, let’s go get ‘em.” The now smiling ear to ear birthday girl and I charged the ornery boys like the mighty light brigade. I was glad to be on Sally’s side by now.

Just as I was thinking this was the best birthday party I’d ever been a clown to, I saw the Mother step out the sliding door on the patio with a scowl plastered on her face. I walked to the center of the battle field making the truce sign with my hands. “Alright kids...truce..hold on for a minute.” Wow. These are good kids; they actually stopped. I would have liked to stayed longer, but I knew what was coming.

There I was standing on the wrong side of the door stoop again; way before the party was over again. “Yes ma’am. I understand. But, you really should have gotten your head out of your bourbon and provided some adult supervision for those kids outside of the hired clown.”

BAM!!!! Another door slammed in my face.

 “Yeah! You heard me female from the kennel person!!!” Now I wish I had a tylenol in my pocket. 

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

WRITING FUN - Writing Prompt

Write a story about a paperclip. Limit your story to 150 words. Include the words 'London', 'desk', and 'archive'. And write it in 20 minutes.
(I got this prompt from following Tiffany Jenson's writer's blog.) She has a lot to teach to us who aspire to write.


     First I must disclose that I did not complete this little ditty within the twenty minute challenge. It took me fifty minutes, but I should be able to knock off a couple more minutes because I was eating a pot pie at the same time.

     I was amazed at how helpful it was to "attempt" to write within a short time limit. It jarred my mind out of the self conscious writers block mode, into a sense of whew, look at me I'm writing! So, thank you Tiffany for throwing this little exercise out there for us beginner's to sink our baby writer's teeth into.

     Here is my little ditty:

          Sarah stood wringing her handkerchief around her finger until circulation had stopped and her index finger turned blue. Finally the pain set in enough to cause her to let go of it. "So your telling me my records are lost because of a paperclip?" It was a large paperclip encased in pink plastic, heavy on the few papers it held together before she laid them on the consulates desk in the hotel she was staying at in London. Seems it fell off her vital records. The consulate held it out to her. "Yea, I'd want it back if I could teach it to talk. Then it could tell you where, when, and in what country I was born, and I could go back to America!" Sarah snatched the big pink paperclip out of the consulate's hand. "Because I used this big pretty pink paperclip my papers aren't in the archive!"
(150 words exactly)


So kids, join the writing fun.  What else are you going to do while you're waiting to open your presents?  Slap your 150 words in the comment area below this post. Then you can eat your pot pie!

A Non-Human Point of View / Writer's Digest writing prompt

Write an end-of-days story from a non-human point of view (animal, tree, insect, cloud, etc.).*Post your response (500 words or fewer).

What I wrote:

I haven't smelled vanilla or peppermint for weeks. No sweet treats, why live.  I've had my antennae out for fellow roaches to no avail. How far and fast did we all run when the colossal blast hit. No organic waste left to clean up. Not one hair. I feel dry, and worse yet there is mold close by. I feel it in my antennae. This is not good. Too bad my buddy roach lost his head in the colossal blast, but at least we made the most out of the remaining seven days without his head. The last sac of eggs from him are nymphs now. My little family would live more harmoniously in a larger group. Where are the throngs of roaches?! What’s wrong?! Poor little ones haven't even experienced what a sweet tastes like. What it’s like to crawl all over other little nymphs in a crowd large enough to feel the world is right. I feel so dry. So dry. I would die just to smell a sweet right now. Without the taste of peppermint the world might as well end. I’d give all three knees on all six legs just to smell a sweet. There hasn't been any organic waste for a month, and sweets, oh sweets! for longer than that. What I wouldn't give for the sweet smell of a peppermint candy smashed on the ground somewhere. The world is done if there are no sweets. 

There are no more sweets.

Writer's Digest Contest #53

I just want to let you know that I am busy writing things other than book reviews. Right now I'm working on a little ditty for the Writer's Digest Your Story contest. They have one, a Your Story contest  in every issue of their magazine. I have made a few attempts before. Refer to my previous post:

Writer's Digest Contest #47

http://beamingrae.blogspot.com/2012/12/writers-digest-contest-47.html


So here are the entry rules for Writer's Digest Contest #53 - Write a short story of 750 words or fewer based on the prompt below. You can be funny, witty, etc; after all it is your story.

Prompt:    A girl puts a quarter in a gumball machine and a human tooth comes out.

The deadline is October 14th, 2013.

September 17th Writer's Digest

(500 words or less)

WEEKLY WRITING PROMPT

You delete a chain email that says if you don’t forward it to ten people, you will have bad luck for ten years. On your way out of the office, a black cat passes you. Then you find a parking ticket on your car. And, to top it off, your car won’t start. Was it actually the email? Write your response to the bad luck, as well as other ensuing events that make you wonder about hitting the delete button. 

WHAT I CAME UP WITH:

RELATIVES OR NOT RELATIVE TO ME? OR TO THIS DAY AND AGE??

Mr. & Mrs. , and who's that baby?

"I know dear. No. I can't hold the baby, I'm holding my gloves dear."

"She knocked my hat off"

"Yes dear. Well your hat isn't a John Fredric's, which isn't low in price."

"When she comes back in the room she'll expect the woman to be holding the baby."

"No dear. She'll see I'm holding my gloves. Shush dear. Here she comes."

HORSE TRADING

The stranger looked at Susie, shook his head, rested it in a right angled tilt, and said, "That horse is not worth $500. If you're set on that number then I'm done here."

"Nice meeting you then." Susie turned, cleared the top two-by-four of the coral, was nearly to the gardenia arched gate entrance of the white picket fenced yard surrounding the little white wood plank house she was born and raised in. She never walked, she always happily bounced along. Her puppy would give out before she did.

Guy Rogers had decided it wasn't the horse he was interested in anymore, and no price was too high. "Hold on there girly!" At six feet, four inches, he was afforded a gait that could close the distance between him and most anything that walked on earth without putting much effort into it.

"Yes? I'm sorry, what'd you say your name was?"

"Guy".

"You change your mind on the horse?" 

"Just thought I should do my horse trading with a man, not a baby girl."

Now Susie was pissed, "It's my horse Mister! I'm old enough to own it, feed it, brush it, and saddle it!! I'm selling it, my asking price is $500, you said you don't want it, so I'll thank you to ride on out of here on that sorry poke under your saddle, or you will be dealing with my Pa!!! He won't settle cheap on taking a piece of your hide neither!"

No price too high, thought Guy. "Whoa there little lady." He bowed his head as he tipped his hat. "I sure didn't mean to offend you in any way at all." Guy fell in love right then and there. 

Guy got on his sorry poke and rode over the ridge to make camp where he could watch for Susie's Pa, and accidentally bump into him on his way home. He decided he needed a job in this here part of the country. 

Coral that little filly.

Are You Relative To This??? Am I???

Ida Means (left), and her nephew Dorwin Means (right).

AFTER THE COWS COME HOME 

"Ain't no need da wade through them old pictures Ida."

"Ain't no need not to," Ida slung back at Dorwin. 

"Ya just gonna get down syndrome from it."

"This here picture is taken after the cows come home following 'at load of hay Grandpa Joe brought in on back o' his jalopy. Didn't even have 'tah saddle a horse." Frail fingers held the picture two inches from her eyes, refusing to wear glasses at "her young age of 98 years". 

Dorwin, done with the last of the dishes, came to sit down beside his aunt. Her frangible arm reached the picture out to Dorwin as he passed to his chair. He didn't need to look at it, but held it with both hands up to his view with implied interest as he plopped in his chair, and began the sequence of statements Ida wanted to hear. "Them dogs sure were something."

"Weren't none better in the county. Dang Jeb shouldn't shot Boo. Damn fool. Dog trumps a chicken. Damn fool."

Dorwin listened, talked at the appropriate times, just loving that his aunt Ida was still sitting there with him, telling her stories for the hundredth time, like a favorite bedtime story. Daylight dimmed through the linen curtains Ida had made years ago. Dark would be here like every night; at the end of the story, which always ended with, "and that was the best worst day of my life. When the cows come home followin' a truck. Grandpa Joe makin' it easy. No more hard riding or workin' the dogs. Yep, best worst day of my life."

In the twilight.

THE WORST WORDS/WORDS TO BANISH

Banished to vaporized memories?
 The vapor's are still there.

When I was an english major at ASU, ok like in the '70's', an english professor made the statement that there are no bad words, there is only bad usage.  From that time to forever this is what I believe.

I've been following the last two posts on Dictionary.com, they have a blog. These last two posts THE WORST WORDS OF 2012, and The words you want to banish in 2013 got me going.

Little Lord What You Gonna Do This Year

This is Little Lord What You Gonna Do This Year serenading Little Miss I Don't Know.  His song is a pleasant melodic blend of voice and lute, enticing  Little Miss to succumb to the creative flow whirling around her and throughout the world; to stay in tune, and keep her seat in life's harmonious symphony through 2013 and forever. 

"I will not rest on my laurels", Little Miss says. "But keep my eyes and heart open all year long, and beyond."

A laurel for my muse.  Bring it on 2013.

Blogging Debacle

There is nothing you can say, write, or read that hasn't been said, written, or read. Trying to say something nobody has said before seems impossible. Coming up with a story that's never been told before seems impossible. Original angle?  Impossible!  This stymies me when I'm trying to write/blog.  HAVE YOU SEEN THE INCREDIBLE BLOGS OUT THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How do I get past this? By realizing that I am an important part of Life's creative expression. I am the medium through which Life itself expresses color, harmony, form, beauty, resonating in Life's symphony of living art. I'll simply seek out and appreciate my innate place in Life's creative source.  Most importantly, quit trying to make a living as a proffessional writer when I'm not.

What blocked my creative abilities that resulted in today's post? Trying to write for money without any formal schooling, manuscripts, or the discipline to work the long hard hours it takes to consistently produce thousands of words a day.  Yes, I'm one of those dits who came up with the harebrain scheme to blog to make money before I even knew what a blog was.  Just heard people were doing it and thought, well by-golly, I can do it, too.

The most important things I've learned is that I enjoy trying to write, and enjoy reading about writing.  I am creative.  And admitting defeat in this means success on another level.  

I'm happy to be in a lower echelon of writing. I'm a happy hobby blogger.  So much easier, so I must be doing it right.  

Delusional Infatuation - Or is it?

I locked myself in my room today in order to get some serious writing done.  I'm all revved up from yesterday's Writer's Digest webinar. Maybe I was in there (my room) a little too long because I started anthropomorphizing my virtual teddy bear like character on my wallpaper. She’s so cute.  Over the period of the day she moves through different normal daily activities.  She feeds the birds. Eats at her little table. I wondered if she’s enjoying her food. She cleans her house with her cute little broom. I had conversations with her. Then the realization that this might not be normal sank in. Or is it? People don’t like admitting any tendencies they might have outside the general flow of things. Why don’t I care? Artist’s see things differently.

I feel certain that I’m not alone in this delusional infatuation. 90% of all the people on earth interact with a computer; or some technical device. Odds are some people get even freakier with this sort of visual stimuli. Like buying stuff for their avatar or something. Or actually scheduling their lives to accommodate the scheduled dinner (mine always eats at the same time of day) with their virtual teddy bear like character on their wallpaper . I don’t buy it stuff for mine!

So I poked around on the internet and found this article in a matter of minutes: "Feeling remote? Try a $2,000 telepresence robot
For two grand, Double Robotics will sell you an iPad on wheels that delivers a physical presence at a distant location." by Stephen Shankland
December 5, 2012 5:58 AM PST, at http://news.cnet.com/8301-17939_109-57557237-2/feeling-remote-try-a-$2000-telepresence-robot/

Wow! “ A physical presence”. I don’t feel so crazy now. People pay for what I felt. Besides, my android told me I'm virtually ok regarding this subject.  (I've really got to get out more.)

Poked around some more and learned what I knew, then forgot, the virtual pet fad that overtook my niece about five years ago. Dylan said it, and I'll say it again, "the times, they are a changing."

What about you?  Are you attached to your wall paper?  Leave a comment and tell me about your virtual infatuations.

THE COMMA

It seems the use for this little writing tool, the comma, is changing.  In Strunk & White, THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE, the first chapter titled ELEMENTARY RULES OF USAGE has seven sections, five of them are about commas.  This being the granddaddy of rules in writing, is a good place to start when considering punctuation.  The attention this authoritative book gave to commas indicates their importance; has been the long established rules about how to use commas.  Do we need a new edition?

What was brought to my attention in a newspaper article, “The double life of commas”,written by Ruth Walker in her “verbal energy” column in the Christian Science Monitor (issue 36, pg47), is that we are now suppose to omit the comma after if, and, or, but, namely a conjunction, when used at the beginning of a sentence.  She sets forth that there are two kinds of commas.  1. Because of a rule (Strunk & White), or  2. Those that serve as a kind of stage direction.  One of her pet peeves is a comma after the conjunction that begins a sentence.

When I talk I pause every time after I say but.  It's my speech rhythm, tone, voice, my vernacular.  I'll be telling a story then say but and take a breath. I use but to say, “wait a minute, listen to this!”.  It's in my writing because that's the way I talk.  One writing rule is to write the way you talk.  ELEMENTS OF STYLE, page 63, "Write in a way that comes naturally." So when I start my sentences with the conjunction but, I will not be able to omit my comma directing you to pause then proceed.  I'm a stage director from the word go in this case.  Things are always changing.  That's a good thing.  We don't write or talk like Shakespeare anymore, but, for now, when I write it will have to remain the same when a certain conjunction begins a sentence.

Ernest Gowers wrote that the correct use of commas – “if there is such a thing as ‘correct’ use – can only be acquired by common sense, observation and taste”.

I would like to invite all the writers out there to write stories about the pictures (in any of my posts) and send them to trularae@gmail.com.  and I will post them.

Want more exposure, write a story about a picture.

VOCABULARY FUN

I ran into a new word (for me) while reading PEOPLE OF THE NOATAK, by Claire Fejes, 'the new edition of the 1960's classic', first published in 1966, this "new"edition was published in 1994.  The word is landlubber.  At first I thought it was a typo.  Instead it was an adventure in etymology.  Normally I'd just use the dictionary on my computer dock , but there was an electrical storm going on outside at the time so I wasn't about to turn on my computer.  I actually had to use old hard copy dictionaries, ergo a flashback to how I was taught to study etymology forty years ago when I was in college.  One English professor told us to keep all our old dictionaries, and even acquire as many as we could if we were going to be serious students of etymology.

The first dictionary I grabbed was "Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary" (1979).  When I didn't find it  there I was thinking typo again.  Yea.  Where's my edit pen?
Then I grabbed "The Random House College Dictionary" (1968), and there it was.

          landlubber (n) - a landsman or raw seaman.

This is one of those words that makes me giggle, but when I read the adjectives I started laughing out loud.  There were three adjectives listed - landlubberish, landlubbing, and landlubberly.  I would love for a comedian to get hold of these words.

Had I been on the computer I would have known in two seconds that it wasn't a typo, and I would have missed the etymology flash from the past.

Macmillan Dictionary online even provides the audio pronunciation, and gives this definition:

          landlubber - someone who does not know much about boats or the sea.

Another tidbit I got from Macmillan was that 90% of the time, speakers of English use just 7,500 words in speech and writing.  That's out of the millions of words out there.  Macmillan calls these red words; words used most often.  Landlubber is not a red word.

WD Your Story Contest #46 (sentence), due Nov.26th

OK.  I pushed the submit button; officially entered the Writer's Digest Contest #46.

This contest is found in the November/December Issue, on page 51.

The challenge:  Write the opening sentence (25 words or fewer) to a story based on the prompt below.  You can be funny, poignant, witty, etc.; it is, after all, your story.  

Prompt:  Write the first line to a story incorporating these three words:  fresh, hair, and tangled.  (You can use the words in any order in the sentence).

My Entry:  What a tangled up mess Prue thought to herself as she had another hair of the dog and prayed a fresh lead would come to her before the hoodlums caught up to her.

It's not too late for you to enter this contest.  There is a Your Story contest in every issue of Writer's Digest.  

The winning entry for YOURSTORY #42 titled The Safe Zone, submitted by Patricia Cook totally blows me away.  If your interested in writing you really should check out her superb example of how to do it.  My jaw dropped when I read it.  

Whow!  Silly me.  Just counted the words in my sentence and there are 33.  Well.  Won't be winning this contest.  Live and learn.  I really like my sentence anyway.  I'm thinking I can turn that little 33 word bad boy sentence into a short story.  See how much fun writing can be.

(Later that same day).  I resubmitted my entry.  23 words this time.  It goes like this:  Prue's mind tangled as she had another hair of the dog, praying a fresh lead appeared before the hoodlums caught up to her.

This drives home the point in writing that less is more.  When I cut ten words from the original sentence it morphed into better writing I think.

WRITE ABOUT WRITING WHAT YOU WROTE

Only one way to get 'er done, and that's to do 'er.

I'm a story teller from the word go. Yet, I learn, it's becoming apparent, now that my quest is to blog my stories, that cornering someone in the store and blabbing my head off is quite different from getting that same story down on paper (figuratively speaking now-a-days).  Drat!

Could I train my computer blog to corner people? Apple can't do this yet so I won't pursue it either, yet.  Steve Jobs, send me a sign, is this in my near future?  No?  I just have to bite the bullet and learn how to write it down on paper (figuratively speaking now-a-days)?  Double drat!!

I've stared at blank screens so long lately that when I'm reading books in my dreams their pages are blank screens.  Just titles appear; and chapter pages.  GONE WITH THE WIND, Chapter 1 - blank screen.

After hours of reading writer's blogs, Writer's Digest Community forums/critiques, studiously listing the rules of writing, I learn that the best writer's break the rules.  Oh!  I was made to break rules.  I'm still in.

I see a lot of vs. in articles about writing.  Today it was dialogue vs. description.  They were talking about moving the plot along, and dialogue wins this case for me.  Over description drags me down when I'm reading, but both are obviously necessary.  I don't care about every little crook and cranny in the room.  I care if the bad guys kill the good guys, and if there is a happy ending.

Another one was research vs. observation.  Research is required for an accurate description of people and places, and what you uniquely observe in the real world will make it all more real.  Simple rule is to always check the facts; that's a given.  

Another tidbit I picked up from the real writer's blogs is don't make your posts too long.  Learned it, like it.  Adios for now.