I even wished upon a falling star but still wasn’t numbered among five winners of a writing contest I entered. But unlike my first competition in junior high, the news didn’t make feel like a total loser.
Failure to win the “My Mother is the World’s Best” in-50-to-100-words-or-less contest back in the day convinced me I was a poor writer and a pathetic daughter. This time around, however, I not only learned from preparing my entry, I also benefited from reading the winning efforts.
I’ll do better next time.
And I still think I have the world’s best mother!
I still remember the story behind the story of this essay, but I just couldn't tell it in 97 words!
Hmmm. I think I thought bringing God into the content would increase my chances even though I could only eek out 85 words.
This 1902 novel by Owen Wister, “almost single-handedly established the cowboy archetype” (Recorded Books Classic Library).
While today’s readers may be disappointed that scenes of hanging and shooting don’t occur until three-quarters in, some might appreciate the story’s deep philosophical character study. BUT what female can resist the romantic hero? Why the cowpuncher’s three-year courtship of high-spirited Molly Wood of Vermont is more tender than even Jane Austen could have imagined.
Interestingly, Wister’s description of the handsome hero did not make me envision Gary Cooper or James Drury, but rather my great-grandfather, a once-living ringer for the fictional character.
Great Grandmother Elizabeth's brand of beauty may not have been considered adequate for the screen role of Miss Molly Wood, but in reality, she was a perfect match for the school teacher.
Yes, Great-Grandpa Henry's photo fits Wister's description of the nameless cowpuncher perfectly.
I have many favorite people in this world, and Ms. Ann E. Cannon is one. She is a new friend as I met her face to face only two years ago. I don’t know Ann well enough to jog with her (like I would), but we’ve worked together so I can drop her name AND call upon her for writing advice. So I did. While eating at the Mazza Cafe, Ms. Ann shared this advice:
Establishing the setting and the problem is still a good way to start a story.
Chapters don’t HAVE to include “action” scenes to build suspense.
I’ve missed blogging. A lot. And since life hasn’t quieted much, I don’t see that I’ll have any more time to post than I’ve had the past few months.
Inspired by information about Grant Faulkner, the new executive director of NaNoWriMo, I think I’ve come upon a solution. It seems that Mr. Faulkner runs an online literary journal – 100 Word Story – and thus launched MY epiphany: I can limit my entries to 100 words or less, AND I will post at least one or two times a week.
I don’t have enough words left to say anything else, and captions don’t count!
Caio
EPIPHANY: When you realize your future isn't mixed in with noodles.
As you can see by the new widget in my sidebar, I have accepted the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) challenge. I know I am crazy, but I ALSO know this is the ONLY way I will EVER complete a novel.
Craziest photo I could find of me - t'was taken LAST November in Bahston
I’ve tried the SANE way – writing every day… worked for a minute; writing a certain amount of words daily … ditto; writing at the same time each day … no luck; write with a buddy … buddy bailed; tried a “MiniWriMo” … same sad story; started and stopped writing a mash-up novel by sort of plagiarizing Thomas Hardy. Sigh.
So here goes.
I told G.E. about my goal and he didn’t even say, “What? Are you NUTS? Aren’t you busy enough? You’re already glued to the computer.” Etc.
I shared my writing idea with him AND read the first 1000 words to him. He was “almost” enthusiastic. Hey! That’s good for the man, okay? He even fell asleep last night without growling – and I mean literally growling – at me to turn off the light. (The growl is really cute and always makes me smile.) Anyway, I typed for about an hour! And then read “until I learned something.”
I plan to leave “mini-posts” to document my progress along the way, but not until after I post my “Autumn Album” tomorrow – LOTS of cute pix of my grandkidlets between September and November.
In the meantime AND if your curious, I’ve written – drum roll, please –
Today’s WordPress prompt was another perfect fit for the NaBloPoMo’s August theme, Fiction.
“Find a word you don’t know, but like, and use it in a short, paragraph length, story, or a clever sentence.” So here ’tis my effort. Kind of a somber way to end 31 days straight of blogging! WheW!
The commentary turned into a prophecy fulfilled.
The BEST shunned public service because of its position at the back of a bus driven by politics.
No one without a personal agenda entered the arena.
Note: Today the WordPress daily prompt intrigued me: “If you could be part of any fictional universe, what would it be? And why? (For example Star Wars, Mad Men, Hamlet, etc.)”
I thought about it throughout the day and decided upon the fictional universe of The Great Gatsby. Rather than list possible reasons for that choice – the fashions, the conflicted post-World War I era, the intriguing but shallow characters, etc. – I am choosing to enter the universe via my 50-word fiction. So I climbed into the minor-major character Jordan Baker’s psyche to visit Fitzgerald’s literary Jazz-age world.
I rather resent Daisy’s crusade in finding me a suitable man.
I suppose she distrusts my taste in the male species. Understandable.
I don’t trust myself – in anything.
Tonight Cousin Nick is the lamb to be sacrificed upon the altar of Jordan’s respectability.
I’ve awakened to see shadows rummaging through boxes stacked throughout the room but I don’t move or breathe for fear the figures will materialize into something solid and sinister and I pray my lump of flesh and bones curled up here in this corner will disappear into a sinister shadow.
Yesterday Mom and I headed for South Towne Center so she could cash in on a fancy-schmanzy free gift with her Estee Lauder purchase. As we were leaving, we paused curbside to allow dozens of cars to exit the parking lot. A hot Mustang Convertible stopped even though many more vehicles lined up behind him.
I waved him on and shouted, “Go ahead. We’re really slow walkers!” Because the top was up and the windows were tinted, I couldn’t see the driver, but he stuck his arm out the window and motioned us to cross.
I yelled thanks, and Mom added, “We sure like your car!” I repeated her sentiments to make sure he heard, and the driver hollered back something we couldn’t make out.
Still got it at 85!
As we finally got to the other side of the Mustang, the passenger rolled down the window to reveal a very very very good looking young man. The driver leaned towards the passenger’s window as well so that we could see he, too, was a cutie.
The passenger then repeated what the driver had said: “HE SAID HE’LL TEXT YOU LATER!”
I laughed and relayed the message to Mom who is a little hard of hearing, and then I added, “I didn’t know he had your phone number.”
She chuckled and then climbed into my car. That’s when I noticed her phone number printed on the back of her T-shirt!!!!
(Okay, that last paragraph is a lie, but all the rest is true. And I could have kissed those sweet guys for making her day! Thanks young men, whoever and wherever you are.)
Writing My Life 