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Sun 2 Mar, 2003 05:53 am
After reading through this category, I recalled my very first attempt at writing a short story. I was so very inspired, but inept at exposition. It went something like this:
" I say", said a man who happened one day to be in the desert to another man who happened to be there, too.
"Where are you going?"
"To the mummy's tomb, of course."
They both went to the tomb, and about that time the mummy dragged in.
I showed it to my sisters with high expectations of their approval, only to have my budding hopes dashed on the rocks of barely suppressed giggles. The worst part of the entire memory is my older sister reading it aloud and saying: About that time the mummy BARGED in. That did it!
To this day I remind them both that they are the sole reason why I am not a published author.
Remember your first attempt?
Dear Letty- Leave it to you to come up with great topics, er, ah memories??
I started to try to write so young, that my first attempts- (which are lying in my parents attic somewhere) were kiddy thoughts.
When I wanted to do serious writing (after college days), I was my own worst critic and most of it was wadded to the waste can.
I have a few peices, thrown around in folders- but I guess they All could use editing.
Poetry seems to come to me more readily than a fast-paced short story. But I love short stories and wish I COULD publish a book of them.
The best ones I have written were based on actual events, as:
Bill sat at breakfast with us, excited to be home for good. No more furlough, no more long trip back to the base or duty. He radiated his utter satisfaction.
In this atmosphere, lively with the finality of distance and honorable discharge, he thought of a basic training catastrophe- once buried in his conscience... ( for sure, he had really never intended to dig up.)
"Lemme tell you about the night I had kp, and we had spaghetti", he began with a grin, that was almost a snigger.
"This ol' boy and I had to do supper and dishes and all the cleanup by ourselves- and it was a mess".
"Wow", I interjected, "feeding that many, that is a huge job. It must take you all night?"
"Oh" said he... "We had pots that you couldn't even lift. We couldn't hardly... that's why we had the problem. See, it took us both to put the stuff on the servin' line. It was like this long cafe line where you just stop and put it on your plate... you know, what you want.
Well, I was busy doin' something else, and the ol' boy thought he could get that big pot of spaghetti to the servin' line by hisself. He got the dolly, and was puttin' it on- when the pot tipped over and spilt about half that spaghetti!"
Laughing uproariously, Bill was slapping his knee and his face was red from the neck beyond the hairline, remembering. It still got his goat, I could tell.
"Oh, how awful", we all exclaimed; "What on earth did you do??"
"Hey, y'all don' know... that kind o' thing brings about a months worth of kp punishment with it... we wuz desperate."
Our questioning expressions and bated breath swept him forward to his admission.
"Shoot, that ol' boy couldn't do nothin' but stand there and look like he was gonna cry! I told him- you hold this pan- now, I am gettin' that push broom. We got all that spaghetti up and on the line, and that floor mopped before anyone come in to eat. Neat as a pin we wuz!"
More uproarious laughing, and redder than ever.
"Hey, I could not STAND that KP, even when it was my turn, lessn' any more of it- UHn UH!"
"Good grief, how was the spaghetti and all?" I quavered.
"Heck, we don't know. Me and him ate at the PX.
Jackie, That's great. Oh, my Gawd! You made it realistic by capturing Bill's usage and expressions. Can you blame him and his buddy for going to the PX? Wonder how many foreign particles them soldier boys picked outta their teeth and spit off their tongues?
Hello Letty,
I am glad you liked my piece about Bill. He's real, and he is interesting.
I wondered, too- how much floor germs they all had to eat- and even expressed that to him. "Wal," he sez, "Couldn't be all THAT dirty, we had to clean that floor about 4 times a day, and it got inspected ever' time!"
So, I didn't think the diners were in TOO much trouble.
Looks like able2know missed a few days?
Maybe we must write something in a hurry?
(I have been checking out 'coming spring' down south, and LOVE IT!)
Good topic. I will be back.
Hey, Jackie.
Frankly, I was amazed how quickly A2K got back on line. Somebody did a fabulous job. Must have worked long and hard to do so, and we are all grateful for it. Ah, spring and the little birds of blue.
Edgar, waiting to see your first attempt. Hurry back.
I was just musing over this thread. It doesn't have to be a short story; it could be any first attempt at writing. I recall getting revenge on my older sister by writing a song. It was pretty good, but alas, she looked at my expectant face and said, "You didn't write that." heh heh! That was the best compliment that I could have gotten from her.
My first short was about a family of mice, I was seven.
I write about people now, lol...
Lorna
Ah, Lorna. Can you remember it? Those little snippets can be such fun.
It was overrun with 'Mama Mouse said...'; 'Papa Mouse answered...' and ended something like '...and they all got run over by a bus.'
Lorna
Well, my first attempt was a school assignment. We were to write fiction about a female animal. If there were any other guidelines I've forgotten. Mine was about a very young horse that wandered off from it's Mamma. A mountain lion attempted to jump on her, but slipped on a slippery rock and fell over a cliff. The horse decided it was safer at home and promptly went there. End. It was the only one teacher read to the entire class. My second memory of fiction writing, the hero was racing to save the heroine from being run over by a train. He arrived on the scene and confronted the villain. When informed that the train had already run her over, the hero told the villain good-bye and went home. Humor. A hah. Sorry no examples survive.
Hey, Edgar.
From four-legged and serious, to two-legged and hilarious. Delightful, Edgar.
How is your book coming along? I Would be quite interested to know.
I was ambitious. In the first grade I wrote a two-page play about my sister's Barbie Dolls. Barbie, Ken, Bill, Clara, Libby, Madge, and GI Joe were stranded at the top of Door Mountain (which looked remarkably like the door to my backyard). They had adventures on the way down off the mountain, including being attacked by Teddy, Gertrude the Alligator, and a seat cushion named Butch Pancake.
I actually performed it during recess at school several times. Broadway hasn't shown any interest.
Equus, A two page play in the first grade? Wow. That was ambitious.
Being attacked by a seat cushion is quite imaginative and also funny as hell.
The first time I attempted a novel, it was for children. I had the audacity to mail it to a publisher, who returned it with a personal message. Final verdict: "It is not well enough written to insure literary success." I felt pretty good that he was thoughtful enough to talk to me instead of sending a form rejection.
Well, Edgar.
Of course it wasn't written to ensure literary success. It wasn't lurid enough.
He was correct in that my skill had not lived up to my vision. I still have that work stored away some place. I find it painful to look over these days.
edgar, I was not making light of your last response. Should it have come across that way, I am deeply sorry. Of course it is painful to review. When you put your heart into something and someone tells you that it is lacking. your soul winces.
I understood - no problem
I honestly can't remember my first attempt because I was such a storyteller as a child. I didn't really start to write anything down and keep it until junior high school. After that I began to carry a notebook everywhere I went.
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