Actually, I tried to steal it, but that night--of all nights--the beagle had been allowed into the owner's house. The next morning, my friend had to serve as dog-nabber. To find out why were stealing the dog or if we succeeded, or if this post is being written by me in prison as I serve my term for committing a felony, you'll have to buy a copy of Not Your Mother's Book...On Dogs published by the folks at Publishing Syndicate.
Last night during the WWWP writing critique session, I shared a story about a big fat lie I told...for the sake of a dog. I'm hoping that in the near future, Chicken Soup snaps it up.
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| This is our dog, Foley. He was not stolen nor did we have to tell a lie to get him. (In his mouth is "Disgusto-Ball," his favorite ball. This was the ball he found in a neighbor's yard when he was in his first foster home, and he's quite attached to it, despite it being torn up and...disgusting.) |
If we're writers, we use our life experiences and we relive them as we try to move people. If telling stories and creating poems is not our thing, we keep our memories alive when we share them with our family and friends or we look at photographs from the past.
What is something you've done that borders on dishonesty?
And hey! Chicken Soup is looking for "Home Sweet Home" stories. The deadline is November. Fellow writers--get crackin'.
