WWWWWPD

           There is the popular WWJD. There is the lesser-known WWSD. What Would Sioux Do?  (The answers vary from "make a snarky remark," to "embarrass herself by getting her head stuck in a sink.") But with increasing frequency, I turn to WWWWWPD.

        What Would Wild Women Wielding Pens Do?

        As I write, even if it is not a piece I'm able to share with my writing critique group, I try to imagine what they would suggest. What parts would they advise I change? Which lines would they say I need to tighten up? Geeze Louise--what about all those darned ellipsis you use, Sioux?

       Who knew? Not only does my critique group help me immensely with my writing when we meet, and they push me to write and submit with greater frequency, but they also help me in absentia...

       If you're curious what goes on at our writing critique nights, below are some photos of the members. (I'm not in any of the photos because I took the pictures.)

We're so excited to get together on Wednesdays, this member drove to our critique meeting
(at a very high rate of speed,with her car window open). We were too nice to make a comment on her hair.
photo by Shutter2ThinkPhotography.com

All of us are quite flexible, as you can see embodied in this member.
photo by rich hinton

Between readings, we sometimes relax in Lynn's backyard.
photo by Sohail Nashir

To mix things up, one evening we went to the beach...Times Beach...and soaked up some sun.
photo by Bart Ceuppens

      

WWWP Critique Group Update

               Well, it's been a loooong time since I've shared any stories from the WWWP's den of hilarity. In fact, it's been so long, perhaps you've forgotten who the cast of characters are? (If you want to read a fairy tale with these same mischievious misfits, go here.)

           There's GaLinda. Don't let her grandmotherly charm fool you. Inside her chest beats the heart of a cougar--or at least a middle-aged cheetah. (She still is deadly with her talent, and despite the fact that she can run circles around the rest of us, she is always generous with the publishers she preys on and stalks.) If you want to read her writing for yourself, go to her site.

           Our next character is ELynn.  She's the one in the group who has a speech impediment. Unable to share her work without making excuses, she cannot pass out copies of her work without saying, "I know it's crrrrap, and I'm sorry." (It never is crap.) When the critque group meets at Elynn's home, she is the best host. Slippers for our worn-out feet...warm towels to refresh our tired skin...43 different kinds of tea...and (yikes) a bathroom that features 360 degrees worth of mirrors. (There's no place for the fat to hide in that bathroom!) You can check out her posts by going to her blog here.

          Next is Cammy. Not only is she thin (we don't like her) and gorgeous (we really don't like her) she is the gentlest of critques. (Actually, Cammy and ELynn are neck and neck in the competition. The prize, when the winner is determined? A jar of marshmallow cream and a jar of Nutella, because their "criticism" is always softened with a great dollop of praise, and their sweet natures always shine through.) Read her writing where she posts it regularly--here.

        Let's make sure and not forget ElsBeth. She's another one who is gorgeous. I've given up trying to fatten her up with high-calorie treats. Now I just take small sandwiches, handfuls of artichoke dip and pieces of birthday cake and--after applying some hot glue--throw them at her body. Sometimes she's too busy explosively laughing to pluck them off before they get a chance to adhere. Most of the time, however, she is reading and making notes on a story, is telling pee-in-your-pants rollicking stories, and is prying the food items off her 6'3" frame--all simultaneously. Just like the other characters, ElsBeth's input is priceless, and her ability to connect the personal with the universal is inspiring...Intrigued? Want to read more? Find her here.

        Finally, there's Rue. Last night she brought her version of a healthy snack--she brought a chocolate fountain, but set it on a slow speed. Unfortunately, once Rue jumped into the fountain, no one else was interested in partaking...

       Now that you have a playbill and are reminded of who the cast is, when I next tell a story about the WWWP group, you'll know who I'm talkin' 'bout...

Another Friggin' Fairy Tale

            There once was a mythical, magical land, shrouded in spiritual s*#t. Viggo Mortensen (with his long, Lord-of-the-Rings hair) stalked around, searching for his perfect mate: a middle-aged woman (middle-aged, if she was going to live to be 106, that is) with overactive upperlip hair and a poochy belly. (His tastes must have changed since moving into this fantasyland, you say? I'm the blogger here. I should get some perks. After all, it is my fantasy!)

         On one hilltop was Lady Linda. She would have been working on another submission, but she was too busy zipping up Santa's pants. (Sorry. This is not a G-rated fairy tale.) Santa was  looking for a  saying, "Ho Ho Ho," causing Linda to be...preoccupied. If you want all the lurid details, check out her side of the story.

        Surrounded by swarms of supporters was Shay. She lived in a lovely valley, where life is fair and everyone is free to choose who they love. (Did you forget again? It's a fairy tale.)  Her 1,000th poem had just been posted, which meant 1,000 tired spirits had done all the work but Shay had gotten all the credit. Bosco was at her side, as usual, to keep up the pretense that swirled around Fireblossom's blog; in her lair is also Emily Dickinson, preserved in dry ice.   

Bosco, the Wonder Dog

     On another hilltop was Temptress T'Mara, singing her Siren's song. Who was she luring into the sharp-edges of her words--handsome young men, men who are Cougar-worthy? Alas, no, they were bandy-legged baldies, because she was culling the depths for stories since--after all--men with quirks and men with twitches are far more interesting than Viggo clones. (And if you need sustanence during your tour of this fantasyland, Tammy has some birthday cake, topped with cream cheese frosting, that she can offer to you to...oops, it was consumed by a coven of five bwitches. Sorry.)

      If you looked quickly, you could see Beth darting here and there, doing planks and push ups and her exercise instructor other exercises. She has time to write and work and raise kids and look fabulous. (She must be destroyed!) The walls of her writing den are covered with the snot she has snorted out in her frequent fits of laughter. (She must be silenced!)

       There was a pinnacle, where two quiet writers perch. One is Donna, who refuses to read her work aloud. Elusive, shy, and humble, you must purchase anthologies with her work in them--or win a copy of one of her stories--in order to enjoy the gifts of her writing. The other is Lynn, who--despite her immense talent--makes excuses about her pieces. Her stories are haunting, poignant, and her endings are brilliant. When she opens her mouth in self-denigration, shove some of Nora Ephron's spaghetti into the open maw. (That heavenly stuff will shut anyone up!)

      There is another pinnacle where a humorless writer writes. No sound is heard except the sssssh of the wind. Don't stop or tarry too long there. Anyone who lacks a sense of humor is not worthy of your time... 

     There are more places we will visit in 2011 as this fairy tale continues before the year ends...Come back so we can get to the "happily ever after" part.