Another Fairy Tale

           Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a community of writers. Each one of them had their own little castle, and met every evening so they could chat, procrastinate about writing, and sip beverages.

photo by Gary Shield Photography

         "Aaah, a community," you might say, and you perhaps envision a group of writers who only had altruistic intentions. Thoughtful authors. Collaborative creatives. 

         You'd be wrong.

         Just like in Chuck Palahniuk's brilliant (but twisted) book Haunted, these writers tried to sabotage each other...in creative ways.

          Some of the sneakiness involved food. Fireblossom got the whole kit and kaboodle hooked on Bolthouse Farms Vanilla Chai Tea. One evening she brought several bottles and soon, every single one of those writers was bellying up to the upturned, empty jugs like guinea pigs at their water bottle, desperately trying to get the last drop. Lynn served up some spaghetti (a la Nora Ephron) and everyone gorged themselves. Tammy whipped up some stuffed tomatoes (Oh, how healthy? Au contraire.) that made even one writer swear off her decade-long avoidance of pork and beef as she stuffed them into her gaping piehole. (Later, this writer could be found hiding in a corner, with mayonnaise smeared around her mouth, mumbling, "Bacon...yum.") Even Donna Volkenannt
brought to the table a potato salad recipe. After everyone tried it in their own little castle's kitchen, they all looked like potatoes...

        Some of the sabotage centered around diversion.  Beth would regale the group with tales about her travels. South America. Australia. Her beauty (tall, skinny bitch) along with her hypnotizing stories got all the writers off track. Val would lure her colleagues into her blog, baiting them with wry, pointed posts and then would hook them again...because as her followers are well aware of, Val's replies to comments are just as amusing as her posts are. Lisa was another one of those diversionary ones. She'd rent kids, claim they were her own (even though she clearly was too thin and too young to have spawned the grown-up rent-a-kids) and then host a brilliant meme, Book Blurb Friday.  

        And some of the stealth and sneaky goings-on had to do with blinding their fellow writers. 

        Donna won the Erma Bombeck contest, and she'd flash that eight-foot tall trophy at you like she was sending signals across the canyon to the Lone Ranger. Linda always had--in her pocket-- a list of the publications who had sent her an acceptance letter that day, and after reading the seemingly neverending list, her colleagues couldn't see straight. And speaking of straight...You wished you weren't after reading Fireblossom's daily serving up of poetry. She does it all--blazing hot love poems, hilarious stabs at society, channeling of Emily Dickinson. The lady's way too mercurial... 

        Some of the authors living in this community resorted to old school medieval fun. Cathy C. Hall would keep her fellow writers from writing by jousting and challenging other punsters to duels. She'd unsheath Cathy-on-a-Stick and threaten the other writers.

photo by Sioux

        And finally, there was a musical duet to divert us. Lynn and Tammy would whine play a sad song on their tiny violins. In perfect harmony they would sing, "Thisisawful-Itispurecrap-Don'tyoufallasleep." The chorus was, "Mywritingstinks-It'sreallynothing-Helpmehelpmeplease." (And they never even served any cheese with that whine.)

        And since it's a fairy tale community, do these writers live happily ever after? Why don't you finish the book you're currently reading, and once you've read the last word on the last page, ask yourself "Was I moved?"

        'Cause writers have that power. They can do that. They can move you. And while that doesn't make it all happy, it makes it all good...

                                             The End