The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Friday, April 13, 2012

Book Blurb #59: Forever a Child

      Lisa Ricard Claro, a generous blogger and a talented writer, hosts Book Blurb Friday every week. It has been going strong for over a year now. The photo she posts--along with the 150 word limit--inspires a writer's imagination as well as hones the ability to be simultaneously succinct and enticing. To find out about this week's offering, check out Lisa's meme.

     It's been a long time  since I've made time to write a blurb (even though I thoroughly enjoy it every time I do it) but I got sucked in this week since Lisa was nice enough to use one of my photos. However, when I saw the picture for next week, I got really humbled. (She claims it was shot by her daughter, but since Lisa is not old enough to have college-aged kids, I suspect it was taken by the "hired children" she trots out occasionally. It is gorgeous!)

      The challenge is easy. 150 words or less. Take the blurb in whatever direction you want. Leave a comment on the host's blurb, link yours  to Mr. Linky (it's easy, since even I can do it), which means you get to enjoy other bloggers' blurbs.

     Below is my blurb. It is 130 words.

Forever a Child

“Riley was here…” It was chalked across concrete walls, etched into the muddy banks of rivers, and engraved onto the hearts of all who knew her.

Although her IQ was lacking, her ability to fully embrace life was not; Riley knew exactly what was important and what could be bypassed. Her childlike enthusiasm bubbled over—everyone who knew her was enriched by her effervescence.

Nutella (on a spoon) for breakfast…dancing barefoot in summer puddles…taking a nap with a dog on a Saturday afternoon: these are some of the ways Riley squeezed joy out of every single day.

Travel to the places Riley visited before her life was cut short. Meet her followers whose lives she touched. And be prepared: your life will never be the same…because Riley was once there…

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Armed with Ammo

       Last night I was dry as a bone. I was experiencing a creative drought. Not a drop of inspiration, and no clouds in sight.

        However, I did find a possible market to submit to. They're looking for humorous pieces, but since I'm unfamiliar with their magazine, I'm going to check them out at the book store this evening.

       Lately I've been writing more serious pieces (for Chicken Soup) and when I share them at our WWWP critique get-togethers (Wild Women Wielding Pens), I get petrified. All four are completely silent. Linda makes odd faces as she scrawls paragraphs of helpful suggestions on my draft. Beth is (in her head) choosing the next rollickingly-funny tale she can tell, as she is simultaneously offering some alternatives to my dead-in-the-ditch parts. Lynn is trying to discover a kind way to note "This ending sucks," and Tammy is frantically alternating between making GB corrections (she is our resident Grammar B and is brilliant at it) and making me feel validated.

photo by vinc-

       Sharing funny pieces is easier on my nerves. At times (hopefully) they laugh or smile. There is some sort of reaction as they read my piece. It's not so silent that I can hear my mustache hair growing...At least it's not supposed to be that quiet.

       I am keeping my fingers crossed that 1) they take the kind of stuff I dish out and 2) an idea hits me like a lightning bolt.

       Critique night is less than a week away, and I need a piece of fudge writing...