Tell others about this:

Fifty-five word short stories, or shorties, are excellent writing exercises to focus one’s thoughts, word choice, imagery and more. Unlike poetry, a 55-worder must have a beginning, middle and end to the story. Like poetry, the impact is precise.

My fifty-five word stories tend toward the serious. I have a friend who has mastered using the 55-worder to zing the reader with the unexpected ending, using either humor or shock. The 55-worder is his domain.

To tip my hat in homage to him and our friendship, I present you with a symbolic fifty-five word story. It’s about a writer with writer’s block stuck in a desert town wondering if she will ever finish her novel.

Morning in a Desert

by Fay Moore (c) 2013

I awaken to drumming outside the window. It must be the madman across the street on his drum set. He’s getting an early start on  practicing, I think.  I arise and peek through the venetian blinds, wondering, Will it be a good day in this desert town? Yes. In a parched place, it is raining.

Here’s a second copyrighted example on the same theme. I sent an e-mail to my daughter using the following almost verbatim. That was the inspiration for the piece above. It’s funny how inspiration strikes:

It’s raining in the desert. I was awakened this morning to drumming outside my window. I thought it was the madman across the street with his garage drum set. He’s starting early, I thought. I peeked outside. No drummer. It’s raining!  How symbolic. Here I am in the midst of dusty barrenness,  yet there’s rain.

Some Days I Will Have to Settle for a Laugh and 200 Words

I awakened early this morning, about four hours early, before the birds or the sun were up. I read for a while, seeking a jumpstart on my day through inspiration. I got nothing. I ate breakfast, fed the dogs, loaded and ran the dishwasher, loaded and ran the washing machine, dressed for the day. Still nothing.

At this point, I ponder my options.

I have 4,000 words of a 7,000 word story completed. I have half a novel completed. The Writers of the Desert Rose Cafe has started the next anthology, a Christmas themed one this time.  I haven’t started my taxes yet. I can work on any of these projects and be  productive. Yet I can’t muster the energy to start anything.

My shoulder hurts. I am almost three weeks post-surgery. I want to blame my lethargy on the pain, but it would be a ruse. The fact is I am in a funk.

Now what?

Recently I wrote about my Uncle Dick and his family newsletter that he sends out monthly. The new one sits on the ottoman in front of me. I open it and read.

About page two, I chuckle to myself while reading a humorous commentary Uncle Dick has borrowed from the Time Union. Afterwards, I grab the computer and start this post. It’s progress. At least I have written almost 300 words today. And it’s not yet 9 o’clock in the morning. So there’s still hope to get something done and scratched off the to-do list. Right now, I am happy for a belly laugh and 200+ words.

My Uncle Dick

In our lives, we have people who have lasting influence. Uncle Dick is one for me. He’s a retired principal from the elementary education system. Had he been born in another time, I think he would have been, in addition to the Exchequer to the King, a Poet-Philosopher.

Uncle Dick’s wife, my maternal aunt, recently passed away. Aunt Jeanne routinely helped others and nurtured Uncle Dick. He habitually complimented her positive qualities aloud, publicly. Her loss hit him hard. His children arranged for a Care Corps volunteer to keep an eye on him. The woman who showed up at his door had many of the characteristics of my aunt. Of her, he wrote:

The volunteer from Care Corps–

To ease the vacuum of losing Jeanne,

So much like Jeanne in her caring ways–

Karen.

To me, Jeanne’s twin sister,

Born tardy, forty years late.

Uncle Dick appreciates humor. He sent me a quip about writing that made me smile.

The only way to create a sensation as an essayist these days is to write something mean about a cat.

He reminds me of the importance of awareness, being alive in every moment, at any age. Uncle Dick is in his nineties. In a recent newsletter that he sends monthly to family, under the heading “How to Think More about Sex,” he wrote:

“I quote from a book review for the author Alain de Botton, ‘Deep inside, we never quite forget the need with which we were born: to be accepted as we are, without regard to our deeds; to be loved through the medium of our body; to be enclosed in another’s arms.'”

Thank you, Uncle Dick, for giving me a living example of a love story, for demonstrating the power of language, and for teaching me how to live and laugh in the shadow of loss.

Just Kill ‘Em

A friend of mine writes murder mysteries. She has found a positive way to channel negative energy connected to a particular person: she turns the person she is angry with into a character in a book. Then she kills them. End of story. End of her frustration.

I found that tactic hilarious. I didn’t think it would work for me. Then, I had a fight.

After I had strong words with a person, I felt badly. My head ached, and I was sick to my stomach. I realized I needed to change my response to this negative stimulation. I pulled out my laptop and began working on a story as a way to get my mind off things. The adrenaline increase from the argument was rerouted to my creative brain. Before I knew it, that re-channeled energy helped me produce 1,000 new written words.

I liked the outcome of that choice. My body appreciated my turning away from the gut-churning negative emotions to the zen-inducing creative thoughts. I am certain my blood pressure dropped several points while writing.

So there you have it. Redirect your anger or angst. Get writing. Lower your blood pressure. And, if need be, kill the bugger!

I’m Off My Meds Again!

Listening to advice from friends, I am going to start other blogs to carry topics unrelated to writing, instead of clogging the space here. Since my favorite off-topic interest is off-the-wall stories in our modern or pop culture, the first new blog is called “I’m Off My Meds Again” and can be found at http://www.offmymedsagain.wordpress.com. It’s MY platform for MY craziness. If you love the world of abnormal, bizarre, whacko things, then you’ll love this space. If crazy talk isn’t your cup of tea, stay away!

Very Pun-y

For the punsters among you:

• The United States Constitution (c) 1791. All Rights Reserved.
• “Those who trade liberty for security have neither.” ~ John Adams
• The pun is mightier than the sword.
• “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then they win you.”-Ghandi
• I don’t mind you being rich; I mind you buying my government.
• “A nation of sheep soon begets a government of wolves.” Edward R. Murrow
• If you aren’t a vegetarian, you probably don’t know beans.
• “It’s called the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.”-George Carlin

My fav? The first one!

2012 Blog of the Year Award

Thank you, Rarasaur! I think I may have found the words for my tombstone.

In giving me the Blog of the Year Award 2012, Rarasaur said:

Fay: For over-thinking in the most engaging, delightful way possible:

https://faymoore.wordpress.com/2012/11/26/the-fear-of-being-forgotten/

Over-thinking. Oh, my, yes. That would be me. And it brings a tear to my eye to have that trait of mine considered engaging and delightful. (Tell that to my ex’s.)

So, I accept the award. With glee and waving of arms and dancing about the room. The word GIDDY comes to mind. And just in time, too. Two more days till the end of the world, if you believe those Mayans.

I’ll meet my obligations for the award on December 22. That way, if the world really does go poof, I won’t have to write the darn thing.

Rampage Writing–Taking a Stand for Your Opinion

Warning–Adult language

The lesson today came about after reading Damantigui’s Blog. He is a world traveler–both business and pleasure. He is seasoned in life, culture, and observation. When one is seasoned, one is unafraid to share criticism. Damantigui doesn’t suffer fools lightly.

In a moment, I am posting an excerpt from a recent rampage on Damantigui’s Blog.

First, let’s discuss where rampage writing is useful: on the Op Ed page of the newspaper (dwindling market?), in political speech writing (seasonal work and hard to get?), in dialogue (movie and television scripts, books, plays–better) and, finally, on the soapbox (think of the public square of today: the blog or jokes for comedians. Ahhh, now we’re getting somewhere).

Rampage writing is persuasion on steroids. It’s purpose is to modify the views of the reader by hyperbole, education and/or intimidation. Humor helps. When slapping someone, it helps if you can get them laughing about it.

Enter Damantigui, aided by George Carlin.

The following example of rampaging is extracted from his November 8 post titled “Truth Teller.” In it, he(via George Carlin) challenges the necessity of the Save the Earth movement, among others.

We’re going away. Pack your shit, folks. We’re going away. And we won’t leave much of a trace, either. Thank God for that. Maybe a little styrofoam. Maybe. A little styrofoam. The planet will be here and we’ll be long gone. Just another failed mutation. Just another closed-end biological mistake. An evolutionary cul-de-sac. The planet will shake us off like a bad case of fleas. A surface nuisance.

You wanna know how the planet is doing? Ask those people at Pompeii, who are frozen into position from volcanic ash, “How the planet’s doing?”  You wanna know if the planet’s all right, ask those people in Mexico City or Armenia or a hundred other places buried under thousands of tons of earthquake rubble, if they feel like a threat to the planet this week. Or how about those people in Kilowaia, Hawaii, who built their homes right next to an active volcano, and then wonder why they have lava in the living room.

The planet will be here for a long, long —LONG— time after we’re gone, and it will heal itself; it will cleanse itself, because that’s what it does. It’s a self-correcting system. The air and the water will recover; the earth will be renewed; and, if it’s true that plastic is not degradable, well, the planet will simply incorporate plastic into a new paradigm: the Earth plus plastic!  The Earth doesn’t share our prejudice towards plastic. Plastic came out of the Earth. The Earth probably sees plastic as just another one of its children.

Could be the only reason the Earth allowed us to be spawned from it in the first place. It wanted plastic for itself. Didn’t know how to make it. Needed us. Could be the answer to our age-old philosophical question, “Why are we here?”  “Plastic! Assholes.”

http://damantigui.wordpress.com/2012/11/08/truth-teller-en/

My first bite of November– and it tastes delicious.

Thank you, rarasaur, for visiting my blog and posting a “like.” Your visit led me to your site where this darling photo gave me my first laugh of the day. Laughs are priceless gifts, lifting hearts, bringing mirth, improving mental and physical health. So I love you for the gift.

If the rest of you want a dose of merriment, click the link below.

My first bite of November– and it tastes delicious..

But wait! There’s more. I love this blogger’s ACTION! She inspires me to keep trekking the path. Look at her to do list. Yeah, baby! It’s like the old motivational saying goes: throw enough at the wall, and something will stick. So that will be the topic for tomorrow’s post. Stay tuned for Moore!

Quote on the Eve of the Second Tuesday in November

It’s time for a bit o’ the American humorist Mark Twain. Enjoy!

• Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.
• Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
• Barring that natural expression  of villainy which we all have, the man looked honest enough.
• . . .one of the first achievements of the legislature was to institute a ten thousand dollar agricultural fair to show off forty dollars’ worth of pumpkins. . .