Good Morning Symposium Organizers,
It’s day three of my self imposed writing school. Hope you are having as much fun as I am. I’m drawing a lot of my advice from the following websites: http://m.wikihow.com/Become-a-Published-Writer - and - http://absolutewrite.com. I will list my sources whenever possible. This weeks lesson guideline is to write a complete short story that can be read in 3 minutes. About 600 words. I got this from an NPR contest that ran last year - I made several entries - no cigar. I am upping the ante today and adding to my lesson plan a caveat like NPR did. For example they would show a picture and you were to write about the image. Or it would be a topic such as “Write a story about someone who found something they do not wish to return etc." Today I’m going easy on myself and only require that I stay within a certain genre, such as...Horror - I’ve never written a horror story before - this should be fun.
The interest I am showing in writing professionally did not just start last week, or even last year. You’ll have to go back pretty far, for I’ve been thinking about it for almost my whole life. I’ve always had a vivid imagination and love to read. Not all books, but the ones I like - I REALLY like. I only had one problem; I hated to write. I took typing in High School, mainly to meet girls but also because I thought it would help me to write. I was around 40% on the money in both areas. Even with the advent of consumer computers I still found it to be painful - each word a drop of my blood on the page.
But something happened after I was diagnosed with pd. Until they put me on the proper medication I could not have cared less about writing, even posting on FB had no appeal to me. But once they got the drugs right and I started writing this blog it took off! Of course, when you are writing on average 1500 words a day you need to like doing it, or you stop. I didn’t stop and now I love it. Writing has become my refuge - my escape from this concentration camp of a body I have been shipped to by boxcar.
I now have something to say. I don’t always say it out loud, but it is invariably written between the lines. I have people telling me all the time what a good writer I am - I’m not sure yet if I AM a writer much less a good one, but I am figuring it out. And the first step in doing something is having the confidence to do it. At least, no one has called me a BAD writer and that should count for something. I’ll tell you more about why I love to write tomorrow. And now... here’s Wednesdays lesson.
Bed Bugs Bite
“Rise and shine Tony!” Dad bellowed. "Why're you scratching? Hope you and Mom didn’t bring back bed-bugs from your trip to Valdosta .”
“Bed Bugs," Tony asked. "What the f... sounds gross”
“They are” his Dad replied “they take over the place. Now get your butt up and go to school." Tony slowly got out of bed and searched the floor for something to wear.
Then he saw it, what looked like a bug in the corner of his eye. He went to the mirror and checked, there WAS a bug in the corner of his eye. But a bug unlike any he had seen before. He brushed it away quickly onto the floor where he stepped on it with his bare foot. It gave off an odor of almonds that filled the room as its yellow-green guts oozed between his toes.
Next morning was the same, including the bug, except now it was twice as big and put up more of a fight. Tony didn’t care, he had enough problems with long division and this new bully in the neighborhood. So he did some bullying himself, he flicked it, squished it, and left for school with the scent of almonds trailing behind him. “Stupid bug.” On the way he was confronted by the new bully and had to go the day without lunch, again.
During math class he noticed the smell of almonds, yellow-green guts started dripping onto his desk and down his face. Lucy Kamala screamed, “Mr Throwbridge! Tony has blood coming out of his nose." Mr Throwbridge looked up, “That’s only a nosebleed - Tony pinch your nose and go to the nurses office.”
He tried to pinch his nose, but another bug, twice as big, was squeezing itself out of one nostril along with the almond smelling yellow-green guts that everyone else saw as red blood coming out of the other. Bugs falling from the ceiling - guts dripping. He was the only one that could see them. Tony thought he was loosing his mind. One bug would divide into two - those two into four. Carry the four - at 453 divisions a minute there will be 5 million bugs in this room within the hour. Seven goes into six how many times? Tony saw the nurse; she called his father.
Tony was privately incoherent by the time his father got there. Bugs everywhere - almonds - yellow-green guts, yellow-green guts, bugs multiplying and dividing. "Daddy make them go away!” his father couldn’t hear him. "Hey Tony, I was right! it is those damn bedbugs. We need to get you home and disinfected right away.” Tony’s father stopped to inform the principal who said “Ain’t life a kick in the pants? You get one matter settled and another one takes it’s place. We’ve been having some trouble with a bully lately, and when he decided to escalate by giving your son a bloody nose it was enough for Tony. He lit into that bully like a chicken on a june-bug. He’ll think twice before he bothers your son again. Tony was saying some crazy things though ... “Now you know how those bugs feel! Eat their guts! Eat ‘em!” I think this whole bully thing has affected his grades.
His father said "Yeah, and now he has to stay home for a week while we get rid of all these bugs. Strangest bed bugs I’ve ever seen.” He said goodbye and stepped across the crunchy almond smelling remains and yellow-green guts of thousands of Tony’s Bed Bugs. Bugs only Tony, and now his father, could see.
Thanks for helping me learn to write better.
I hope you like oysters - we’re going to have to eat a lot of them before we find a pearl.
Until tomorrow where I will choose a picture to write a story about.
This weekend I plan on practicing writing reviews of books, another style I have never attempted. We’ll start with an easy one, Hermann Hesse’s Knulp.
The character Knulp is a vagabond, a traveler who has an interview with God. God revels to him his purpose in life, something God rarely does.
I wish I could read Hermann Hesse in German. I’m sure that, no matter how good the translation is, something will be lost and something will be added. That is an issue I can approach in the review.
Pictures for topic tomorrow.
I roll a die to pick which one. Is that right? Die. Then you wouldn’t say “pair of dice" - you would say “pair of die” I’m confused: I am sleepy.
just say yes!
meet Andy Ward King, a professional musician and artist until a diagnosis of parkinons dsease at age 49 forced him into an early retirement., he now uses his music, his art along with the whimsical world he has created in this blog as therapy to ( as he puts it ) outsmart his brain and make the daily battles with parkinson’s a little bit easier, to give him that all important reason to get up on the morning, to make his life worth living. Andy has learned how to say NO to gving up \ NO to depression and apathy \ NO to following willingly the road of decline that stretches before him. he learned that to say no to all of these things all one has to do is say yes. Andy has learned to just say YES to life/\\