Unable to Budge

28 Jul

I just talked about the glories of pushing until you get something new and interesting. I wrote this shorty first thing, looked at it many times through the day, piddled with it for more than an hour tonight. Refused to be anything other than what I originally imagined. Okay. Moving on, then.

Working Title: Bridge
1st Sentence: He finds himself stuck on Memorial Bridge, unable to move his car—forward, backward, out of the damn way.
Favorite Sentence: He can’t move his car because he’s forgotten how.
Word Length: 250

Photo by Steve from Washington, DC, May 2007.

Gutting It Out

27 Jul

I have felt more mentally tired lately, less horrified by the possibility that I could fail this challenge. I have been trying to lightly touch those negative thoughts, then flit away, which is my best understanding of what people say you’re supposed to do when meditating. That advice has never helped me with meditation (it’s just not going to happen for me) but the flitting away is certainly helping with neg-head. Nevertheless, today I was low-energy, and, honestly, seriously bored with the story I started this morning. So I spent the rest of the day revising yesterday’s story and working on the site. I resisted finishing today’s shorty until very late. Then I stared—hard and for a long time—at my three paragraphs, added some lines here and there, re-ordered everything, and then… tripped over a complication that led to a satisfying finish. How the hell did I do that? I swear it seemed to come from all the staring.

Working Title: A Pretty Penny
1st Sentence: They’d started with the penny thing early on, when they were still drunk on each other.
Favorite Sentence: Where he ought to be now, bitching about how his freshmen had butchered Shakespeare particularly well, today, dispatching iambs with frightening efficiency, suffocating rhythm with their flood of um’s and uh’s and the ever popular like’s.
Word Length: 759

Photo credit here.

Too many gaps!

26 Jul

Today I played that classic game of “Wait for the Plumber” or carpenter or cable guy or, in this case, the electrician. Plus given my truly extraordinary laziness when it comes to all things domestic, I had to play that even uglier game, “Clean for the Plumber.” Some of you know what I’m talking about. Because some stranger is coming by to fix the whatever, you look around and your comfy, plush, familiar nest morphs into the dusty, dish-and-crumb-strewn, “just put it somewhere,” embarrassing—no, horrifying—absolute mess that it always was. So not only are you a victim of the plumber or electrician’s mysterious and ever-changing schedule but you have to spend that time you’re trapped at home putting the place in shape for him, and although he doesn’t seem to care about appointments and deadlines, you are very much on the clock. If the plumber sees that crumpled Kleenex under the coffee table or the electrician notices all that hair stuck in your brush—well, I’m sorry to be the one to break the news if you happen to be in the dark on this, but that shit goes on your Permanent Record. All to say that I spent too little time on a shorty that I like and hope to fix in revision, and way too much time cleaning up for the electrician… who never came.

Working Title: Oh, no… Meatloaf!
1st Sentence: Mel took the test three times.
Favorite Sentence: What would enthusiasm look like on that flat face, on that wire-hanger body, in those shades of gray?
Word Length: 2,480

PS, Why “too many gaps”? Because I hand-drafted my shorty in the morning then left it to bedtime to type it in and fill in its few gaps. Except that when I went back to the story I discovered more gaps than I’d remembered and they were much bigger than I’d thought—more like crevasses. Three hours later, finally done  and falling asleep over my computer, I went to bed. And so for the first time since making this site public, I had to back-date a post. I blame the electrician.

Making the Best of It

25 Jul

Best writing advice I ever got: Never do anything half-assed, courtesy of one of my literary and teaching heroes, Michael Martone. Wrote a harmless, trifling shorty this morning, too light to please me. So I tried again. I had just enough time to make a more interesting start on another story idea before running to and from other things, nonstop, for the rest of the day. But when I came back to Effort #2 tonight, nothing more would come. So instead I spent an hour on #1, replacing general references with concrete detail, stripping out repetitive sentences, polishing every phrase. It’s still a harmless trifle that may never see another ray of sunshine but it’s a much prettier trifle, dammit.

Working Title: For His Pancakes
1st Sentence: What she wanted—what she needed—were his pancakes.
Favorite Sentence: And as time went on, as breakfasts piled up, she got used to his passive people-pleasing, his habit of leaving the kitchen looking like the aftermath of the Dresden bombing, his refusal to see movies or attend concerts.
Word Length: 389

Photo by Lazarova.p, August 2009.

Hello Week 13!

24 Jul

Feeling much better today, so enjoy with me my reward for yesterday closing out my 12th week of the Daily Shorty challenge! (Forgive me for tearing into my sweet potato pie before I’ve served yours. You see how delicious it is, how could I resist?) So, wow. 12 weeks. Both amazed and ho-hum. Amazed because I thought 1 week would be tough and 1 month likely impossible. Ho-hum because this challenge has become something I just have to do. Very tough day Sunday, though—I just didn’t want to write a story that day and resisted doing so until late. I’ve had a few tough days before but I was more adolescent about it Sunday. Not looking forward to worse days than that but of course they’re coming. And hopefully more days like today: The shorty came to me quickly, I wrote it with ease, and I like it. Thank you, can I have another?

Working Title: By the Numbers
1st Sentence: He’s not sure when the counting began but he knows it was while he was a child because he has a distinct memory of his mother hurling her usual fury at him in the kitchen—something about a dirty cereal bowl, a ring of milk on the counter—while he fixed his gaze to the ceiling tile.
Favorite Sentence: Their dining room floor is made up of 14 wide, wooden planks, burnished to silky blond-brown, gleaming with varnish—3 coats, he happens to know.
Word Length: 387

Photo by Ernesto Andrade, San Francisco, CA, November 2005

Tiptoeing out of the week….

23 Jul

Feeling sick as I write this so I don’t have the stomach to post a picture of a luscious dessert. If I’m feeling better, I’ll celebrate tomorrow the close of one more week—today makes TWELVE. If I felt better, I’d be amazed. As for today’s shorty, there is nothing wrong with it. Also nothing right. She’s settling into the hard drive as I finish this post. Make a soft place for yourself, my dear, because you won’t be leaving.

Working Title: Her Specialty
1st Sentence: She made a stirred crust in the pie pan, using a fork, then pressed the dough into the dish with her fingers.
Favorite Sentence: She mashed her share of sweet potatoes for granny, floured her share of chicken for the bubbling oil in that old spider skillet, chopped a bale of cabbage for slaw.
Word Length: 508

Tough Day

22 Jul

Working Title: Peasant Loaf
1st Sentence: From 3:00 to 5:00 they could take a bread-making class for couples or play Putt-Putt.
Favorite Sentence: Marion was worried that if they went for the bread—“a rustic, peasant loaf made from heritage grains”—they might be expected to co-knead.
Word Length: 781

A Happy Surprise

21 Jul

Slow in coming this morning. But then it came to me all at once and I trusted it so completely that I spent the entire day working on other things, coming back to the shorty for a more complete drafting only just before bed. So far this challenge has given me faith that I will always have another good story in me—maybe not today or tomorrow but soon. I decided to commit to a year because I really want to know if such a rigorous and disciplined practice will ultimately deplete or feed me. I suspect and hope that each story seeds another. That we can never run out in any case but that we are most full when we spend. Spoken like a woman high on a great writing session. Time will tell.

Working Title: In Tune
1st Sentence: She’d always loved to watch him tune his violin just before a performance.
Favorite Sentence: But she told him she had a feeling, a ripe, purple feeling, like the glistening center of a split plum torn from the pit.
Word Length: 1,040

Photo by Frinck51, May 2004

Back to 7!

20 Jul

I don’t know. Nothing was coming to me and the minutes were ticking away. I thought again about Michael Martone’s Four for a Quarter and how we should try arbitrary forms for stories and so again the number 7 comes flying at me and then… I’m off and running.
.

Working Title: 7 Confusions
1st Sentence: Confusion #1. The big one.
Favorite Sentence: We may never know if a Neanderthal could say, “I had pierced the mastodon with an arrow when I realized that I did not have my hacksaw.”
Word Length: 1,101

Photo by Ökologix, 2007.

Tags: ,

An Easy Short One

19 Jul

I was a child in the 1970’s so I remember very little of it—much more influenced by the 1980’s. But I do carry little snippets—more sense-memories than anything else and an overall feeling about the time. For some reason I woke up this morning with various bits and pieces from the 70’s  running through my mind. Macramé, bell bottoms, paisley. And the sentence, “I can’t argue that the 1970’s was a pretty decade,” a line that I included in the nicely short piece I wrote.

Working Title: He’ll Remember
1st Sentence: We get just one shot so we have to be right.
Favorite Sentence: You leaned into me, buried your head in my neck, and when I bent to kiss you my hair fell over us both like a silk scarf, that long, long hair, almost to my knees.
Word Length: 443

Photo by Saltmiser, November 2007.

Janeites!

18 Jul

Who said that if you make it to the age of 16 you have all the material you’ll ever need? Or was it if you make it to adulthood? Eudora Welty? Flannery O’Connor? I hope she was right. In today’s longish shorty I used detail from a visit to Maine’s Jane Austen Society last fall with my friend LaVerne. We had recently finished reading all Austen novels with our book group and thought it would be a lark. I LOVED it—all the wonderful ladies who talked about Austen’s characters as though they were old girlfriends, the amazing homemade cookies, the group’s mobile library spread out on a huge table so members could freely borrow biographies and studies of the novels, the passionate argument about whether Mansfield Park’s Fanny Price is milquetoast or true heroine. I have been dying to go back but haven’t been able to make any of the (infrequent) events. (It should go without saying that the “favorite sentence” below describes a fictional person being fictionally unpleasant.)

Working Title: Ready To Win
1st Sentence: “Are you ready to win?!”
Favorite Sentence: Pagewright cleared his throat and lowered his glasses to look around the room, then began a ponderous line of fluff about why he particularly appreciated Mansfield Park, one of Jane’s—he called her Jane, his buddy Jane, his good friend Jane, Jane his pal—lesser novels.
Word Length: 2,578

Photo of a watercolor of Jane Austen by sister Cassandra.

One Long Session

17 Jul

I talked about my usual practice yesterday so naturally today I did something completely different. Found myself unusually appointment-free for the day and I knew I wanted to do some site work this evening, so I started on the shorty first thing and worked on it all day, taking occasional short breaks. Done (just) before 5:00 PM! But my every nerve is loaded with today’s shorty and my eyes are completely blurred over from screen-fatigue. It’ll be nice to relax with the husband tonight and maybe that site work can wait….

Working Title: Rent-a-Bot
1st Sentence: Based on your personality profile, the head shot you provided, and the needs articulated for this outing, we have selected three possible companions.
Favorite Sentence: Alexander smiles through it, swallows, wipes his mouth with the napkin, then says, “Take care of this, will you?” and shoves it into Robert’s breast pocket, while leaning over him in a vaguely threatening, did-you-notice-how-tall-I-am way.
Word Length: 2,093

Writing Practice

16 Jul

First things first: A pecan cinnamon roll for me as a congrats for completing Week 11! Yahoo! And now a word to friends who have been asking how I manage my daily writing practice: It’s ideal if I can hit my story 3 times each day. When I first wake up (I write while I’m still in bed), after lunch, and before I go to sleep (again, writing in bed). Often I get only two of those and if I can only have two, I want first thing in the morning and then just before I go to bed. I get ideas best when I first wake up, and I need the distance of a good 14 or 15 hours, if I can have it, to find the entire story. Of course my daily practice would look different if I didn’t have to complete a story each day. But should it? I couldn’t establish a consistent practice before, so how would I know what works?

Working Title: Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head, Innkeepers
1st Sentence: When she was nine, Nita married Mr. and Miss Potato Head, then made them a house.
Favorite Sentence: The Potato Heads met occasionally in the kitchen, by accident—Mr. standing over the sink as he shoveled a bowl of shredded wheat into his mouth, staring out the kitchen window; Mrs. pushing eggs around in a pan, letting them get hard and crumbly while she slipped into a couple of minutes of relative peace that felt something like sleep.
Word Length: 1,578

Photo by Flickr user Lara, March 2009.

Home!

15 Jul

Had to set out early for home, today, so I couldn’t stick with my usual first-thing-in-the-morning shorty session. When I did get home, my air conditioner-free apartment clocked in at 87 degrees, so the husband and I decamped for a very long popcorn movie. When I got home, exhaustion struck and I went down. But then I struck back! And won!

Working Title: Fritos and Fluff Night
1st Sentence: If you are what you eat, she is a bag of Fritos and a jar of Marshmallow Fluff.
Favorite Sentence: She must have bought the shirt at least sixteen years ago, because the right side of the bottom was stretched out long, where Tessa had gripped the fabric in her toddler days, a drooling, laughing, tugging pink accessory with a ribbon in her hair.
Word Length: 642

Photo by Jot Powers, July 2006

Traveling and Daily Shorty Don’t Mix

14 Jul

I left Thursday morning to pick up a friend from the airport so we could head to gorgeous Ogunquit, Maine, for a retreat. So I should have had all the time in the world for my shorties, right? Sadly (and wonderfully)… no. The purpose of the trip was to tackle and subdue a project we have been talking about for some time. We were wildly successful, which should tell you how much time I had to devote to my shorties. The view in the photo here is where my gaze mostly fell in my morning Daily Shorty writing sessions. Fortunately for all, I didn’t take a photo of anything related to my late-night writing sessions, when I hunched into a stack of pillows on the bed, stared at the computer screen, pulled hard at the threads I’d spun that morning…. But here we are, last night of the retreat and another shorty in the bag.

Working Title: Menu Bingo
1st Sentence: “The first day is always really tough,” she said, then popped her gum.
Favorite Sentence: Parents who encouraged the endless I-wants of their picky brats but who couldn’t be bothered to leave a tip; women who tell you to hold the mayo, ask if you have soy cheese, order extra avocado on the side; and the coffee hounds with bladders the size of basketballs and the patience of Henry the VIIIth I am.
Word Length: 779

Photo of Perkins Cove, Ogunquit, Maine, July 2012.

Writing What I Don’t Know

13 Jul

Broke the oft-cited rule to “write what you know.” Better rule: Don’t dismiss what you know. Even better rule: Break rules.

Working Title: Hooligans
1st Sentence: The twins hovered at the lake edge, their hands scrabbling in the grass.
Favorite Sentence: The little fingers opened and in her lap landed a pulpy frog, a tiny thing, its breath pushed from the broken belly by an oblivious Terrible Two.
Word Length: 924

An ancient, oft-told tale… told once again.

12 Jul

Working Title: Wishcraft
1st Sentence: Just like in all the stories, I wasted the first wish.
Favorite Sentence: Weeks and weeks of that best-boy shit, plus all the extra hours I can take and old Hank couldn’t hump it right now if it crawled right up under him and wrapped its legs around his waist.
Word Length: 1,285

Photo by Vicki Nunn, November 2010.

Today an Easy One

11 Jul

I love it when I can answer a frustrating, pulling-teeth day with a purely joyful writing session the next day. It’s like following a bogey with a birdie without all that walking around in cleats and Johnny Miller analyzing every yip, every tremble. He’s a pro, Johnny, he knows why he missed the putt. Today a gift from the writing gods. Not at all sure about the ending but that’s a concern for revision. Until tomorrow!

Working Title: Old Polish Saying
1st Sentence: At least your foot’s not a banana.
Favorite Sentence: Now he stares at his lovely wife, his ripe, sexy wife, with her pouty mouth and nervous energy, she of the delicate hands—hands so light they could be made of lace, hands so soft they whispered, hands like white butterflies, fingers like whiskers, like fine threads—and the incongruous, barrel-chested, cigarette-cured, stevedore laugh.
Word Length: 583

Photo here.

Hello Week 11!

10 Jul

I can’t believe I forgot to congratulate myself for completing week 10 yesterday! No wonder I was cranky today. No virtual treat. So a luscious brownie for me now. Anyway, today I drafted three-quarters of something that didn’t interest me but I put it aside in hopes of getting something better. I kept coming back to the page after taking care of other life-things, but nothing would budge. Then I went searching through unfinished stories (the kind you know you’ll almost certainly never finish) and found a sentence that had good spark. Two one-hour sessions (mostly consisting of staring but eventually producing a couple of paragraphs) and one two-hour session of heavy-duty writing late tonight and I have a new shorty that, again, probably only a mother can love. Actually I’m beginning to think I’m losing my ability to judge whether my stories work. And I can’t decide if that’s good or bad. Likely both.

Working Title: Menu Math
1st Sentence: If you love tuna sandwiches, you’re high-strung and needy.
Favorite Sentence: It’s not that they genuinely expect the world to spasm and then re-shape itself into their image every time they let out one of these farts, it’s just that they’re shameless and cheap.
Word Length: 1,046

Photo by Neumüller Ferdinand.

Getting shorter….

9 Jul

I’m noticing that my shorties are getting much shorter, after the trend was LONG in June. Hmm. An odd one today with a head-scratching ending. On to the next!

Working Title: Inside the Apple
1st Sentence: She would love to live in that painting, roam those green velvet hills, bite into one of those plump, crisp, wine-sweet apples.
Favorite Sentence: They drop from his mouth like a scatter of fat raindrops and now so do hers, pelting her bare feet, bloody lumps of sodden decay.
Word Length: 269

Photo here.

Stubborn

8 Jul

Had a hard time finding something to stick, and once I did I struggled with a draft that pleased me. Wound up re-drafting this piece twice before finally getting something that has potential. Really hoping I’m going to feel more sparked soon. Lately despite some great brainstorming sessions the writing has felt more dutiful than joyful. Will I have to admit soon that I plain need a break from drafting a short story every day? I hope not because I have no intention of taking one.

Working Title: Things I Can Tell You Now That It’s Over
1st Sentence: What I was really thinking when we first met.
Favorite Sentence: “What a waste!” you’d say, “I could make a baby chicken out of that,”—always, always the thing about a baby chicken—and then you’d actually shove the bones into your mouth to suck and strip off the leftover bits.
Word Length: 556

7 Still on the Brain

7 Jul

I so love my vision for this one but the draft is a truly stunning failure. I’ll come back to it because dammit I have to be able to execute better than this. Frustrating.

Working Title: The 7 Wonders of Annabelle’s World
1st Sentence: Follow me, if you will, to Annabelle’s bookshelf, where we find the song book she made last Christmas.
Favorite Sentence: Note the detail on the center rocks, where Annabelle used red nail polish to paint hearts denoting her profound and abiding love for Milliker.
Word Length: 821

Image of the 7 wonders of the ancient world by Slof, August 2006.

Tags: ,

Searching for an ending….

6 Jul

I got to one but I don’t think it’s the right one. Hopefully revisions will steer me right.

Working Title: The Mom Game
1st Sentence: I’ve played the Mom Game since I was in college, where I discovered that reporting all the worst stories about your mother and rating them against other people’s black tales is a great way to get to know people.
Favorite Sentence: She qualified, so I replied to her alcoholism opener with a story about how my mother refused to let the dentist use Novacaine when filling my cavities because she feared it might be a gateway drug.
Word Length: 2,218

Painting “Tote Mutter” by Egon Schiele, 1910.

Still Thinking 7

5 Jul

I would like to be more original and be inspired by a cranky number like 11 or 17 but it’s “lucky 7” that keeps coming to me ever since reading the Michael Martone piece (at Cynthia’s blog Catching Days) that I mentioned in my July 2 post (just below). Today my shorty is a 7-part personality quiz, the really infuriating kind marketed to women at the checkout counter on the cover of a bad magazine showing off the puffed-up cleavage of some anorexic actress. Fun to write.

Working Title: Know Thyself
1st Sentence: Ladies, do you wonder what people are thinking about you?
Favorite Sentence: Your mother worries about your self-confidence and suspects that allowing the doctor to induce labor deprived you of as much as two crucial weeks of prenatal development; you would be a doctor, yourself, she thinks, if you’d had those two weeks, maybe a state senator.
Word Length: 489

Photo of the 7 Lucky gods of Japan by Steve from Nagoya, Japan, August 2007.

Still Tired but More Inspired

4 Jul

Happy July 4! Very quiet plans here, mostly working, working, working on the site…. As for today’s shorty, stuck with it for quite a while to try to make something of it and I do like this one. I’m noticing a trend of a sort of quirky narrative shape, lately. Maybe because for a while now—since the last week of June—I’ve been discovering my endings only just as I get to them, rather than stumbling onto them with almost the first line, as is my usual habit.

Working Title: Mirror, Mirror
1st Sentence: To say that she fears mirrors is just unfair, it’s blowing the whole thing out of proportion.
Favorite Sentence: Does she know that it gives her smile a tiny notch, a cleft that makes him catch his breath, makes him think, what else do I know about her that she doesn’t know herself?
Word Length: 584

Photo by Jurii, May 2009.

Tags: , , ,

Too Tired To Be Inspired

3 Jul

After a great brainstorming session and a fun shorty yesterday I just slumped through my commitment today, sadly. Now that I’m caught up with posts, I’m pushing hard to put something on my static pages so I can make this site public. For the record, if you’re thinking of starting a blog I highly recommend it for documenting your work and reveling in whatever delights the Inner Geek, but know that it’s going to take a lot more time than you think to set it up. (Damn you, Cynthia.) Anyway, a shorty today that doesn’t please me but I stuck with it and did my best by it in any case. Poor Bill. Enjoy your life on my hard drive, Bill. And know that as my clunkers go, you are a stand-up guy.

Working Title: What Bill Read Today
1st Sentence: His watch.
Favorite Sentence: Between the dusty box of chamomile crap Erin left behind and the chocolate-scented confectioner’s sugar in the packet, every time the sugar.
Word Length: 757

Photo by Timur Voronkov, February 2010.

Goodbye to Week 9!

2 Jul

A frosty virtual piña colada for me in celebration of completing Week 9! Today’s shorty was inspired by Michael Martone’s visit to my friend and colleague’s blog, Cynthia Newberry Martin’s Catching Days. I’m a huge fan of Michael (see the “How To Be a Writer” project he inspired at Hunger Mountain) and I pay close attention to everything he says. More on what he says in that post another time but today what I took from it was a reminder to play with structure. He’s just written Four for a Quarter, a book of pieces based on the number 4. This morning I got hooked on the number 7. So… why is thinking “yellow” a Big Idea that ruins a story and thinking “7” isn’t? I’m not sure, but my guess is that I’m using “7” to suggest form, and form is just a constraint we can choose to work within or not. Whereas with “yellow” I wasn’t thinking form at all but about the abstract concept of the color yellow and about even more abstract associations with it (cowardice, age) and how I might do these ideas justice. For me, trying to go from the abstract to the concrete means ruination.

Working Title: 7 Ways To Tempt Your Man
1st Sentence: What man?
Favorite Sentence: For God’s sake don’t wear that flimsy pink number with the silky sash, it makes you look like an expensive bedroom slipper.
Word Length: 574

Photo by Portorricensis, June 2008.

A devilish start to July!

1 Jul

Check out the word length on this one! I had a lot of fun with this shorty.

Working Title: The Trade-Off
1st Sentence: A few weeks after we married, he asked me to stop leaving my shoes in the middle of the floor.
Favorite Sentence: “Clearly,” I said, one night, in the clutch of desire to save this relationship, “Clearly we have forgotten the power of The Trade-Off.”
Word Length: 666

Photo: I bought these awesome shoes at the Goodwill for 8 bucks!

Oh my! Two Months!

30 Jun

With all the excitement of getting the husband home from the airport and going out to dinner to celebrate his big promotion I… unbelievably… FORGOT that this is the last day of my SECOND month! A gorgeous banana split for me! My shorty today was quiet, a bit strange, and, yet again, one that I figured out with each new line. Maybe writing a story every day for this long mandates this new kind of process? Time will tell. Check out my Story Facts + page for a geeky take on the month of June.

Working Title: The I-Love-My-Kid Side
1st Sentence: 3:12 AM.
Favorite Sentence: Again she’s struck by how garish it is, mostly due to the glitter mixed into it but also because the shade of pink makes her think of cheap prom dresses, junk candy, Barbie shoes.
Word Length: 880

Photo by Newsum, July 2006.

More Lists! And some resistance.

29 Jun

This is the first day I’ve actively resisted the work. I know it’s because the husband is traveling and because we got some big news last night I haven’t absorbed yet. After too much dawdling, I wrote another quirky shorty I figured out as I went along. I couldn’t find a way to deepen this one, even after making up for the dawdling by sitting on it for quite some time. Still: Done!

Working Title: Lists
1st Sentence: Of the ten sights everyone should see in person, she has seen only one.
Favorite Sentence: And she realizes, as the speaker of Arabic must, as the speaker of Chinese surely does, that choosing the ten most important words of any language is foolhardy, absurd, unnerving, doomed, fickle, pedantic, unhelpful, conceited, preening, and overweening.
Word Length: 410

Another Treasure Hunt

28 Jun

Again, I wrote this one line by line with no idea what would happen nor how the story would end. It’s a quirky piece that I actually like a lot but I have a feeling it’s a shorty only a mother could love….

Working Title: Bucket List
1st Sentence: They were at a dinner party last night when the conversation turned to bucket lists.
Favorite Sentence: The piglet suited for Wimbledon has one of those old-style wooden racquets, and he’s wearing tennis shorts that are so long on his chubby little legs, they look like Capri pants.
Word Length: 1,271

Photo by 4028mdk09, October 2009.

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