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 |  A running blog on a real newbies adventures with the WDC website |
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I became a newbie writer just starting to learn the tools of the trade. Silly me thinking, I could just jump right in, and start swimming, with what I remember of my six grade English. After all what use did a professional computer repair person need of grammar, to fill in blanks, dot “I’s”, or cross his “T’s” with. I was forced into early retirement. Because of Agent Orange encounters from Vietnam, and a bad hernia repair. You cannot learn anything being a mugwump. What is a mugwump you say? It is a person sitting on a fence; with their mug on one side of the fence, and their wump on the other side. One day I received this interesting email from the Newbie Academy Group. They recommend I engage in contest activities. I thought to myself why not! I went to the contest list and found the writer’s cramp contest. At the prompt: here's a new restaurant in town with an interesting theme. What's the theme, how is it expressed, and how's the food? I read this and get all excited. I started thinking of all the Chief Gordon Ramsey shows I had watch with my wife. Out of nowhere pops a memory of a silly menu I had in my funny joke collection. It was a road kill menu for Uncle Roberts fine cuisine dinning. I decided to use my hillbilly name. I and my wife had a moment in our newly married life, when we were teasing a neighbor friend. We started calling our redneck friend Deny-Bob. He called us JoVonna-Bob and Brett-Bob. I decided to call my contest entry “Brett-Bob’s Road Kill Express” to me the whole idea was a joke and after all what a great thing to write about. To me the trick was to keep it rated ‘E’ as this was a requirement of the contest. I had in my mind decided to keep it as a fake road kill diner they would serve real food as fake road kill using the out of season as the excuse to use their specialty dishes for them. When I wrote it as with all my writing I am becoming world famous for run-ons and miss spelling. Part of the problem is MSoffice I blame its terrible spell checker, and the horrible grammar checker, since it cannot even do second grade error correction. Like I told one of the Newbie Academy Ladies I’m a senior citizen writing as a first grader. And even a first grader has trouble reading my work let alone the poor teacher. Beside whom else can I blame? None of us want to point that finger at ourselves. We might get ashamed and do something about it. One of the funnier parts to my story is I didn’t read it had a thousand word limit. I just assumed that they wanted whatever you could produce in a short time. Just like Nanowrimo. It had a twenty four hour dead line. I figured you didn’t need to worry, if it was a rough draft, or a finished work. This was probably my misreading of the contest rules. I’m betting the judge expects to judge finished works by more experienced authors other than newbies. Basically I’m trying to say, I set myself up for failure. But the best part of the story, and funniest is the judge’s comment: “You met that goal with an interesting piece. However, since I'm a vegetarian, it was unhappily a bit unappetizing in both humor and description. Sigh.” I know I thrive on rejection. But my very first contest. When I am trying to fit in, and receive that comment. It was about the funniest thing to happen to me. Being a new writer I understand not everything I write is golden or is going to make me incredibly rich either. I did install the sense of shame. I went visiting my email and asked the kind judge for help with run-ons. She took pity on me and provided a link to myenglishteacher.net. She also recommended a class from WDC’s own recommended school. She also recommended asking for help in my groups forums. The truth is I really don’t see even the kindest writer here, having the time to teach me sixth grade again. Then I realized I don’t need the whole lessen. I just need to learn to recognize what I do in my writing, and fix that issue. As I write I can auto correct instead or totally relearning English. So I went to some of the forums in the Newbie Academy Group. Since I have no life anymore I sometimes expect the same of everyone else. But the sad truth is it’s the week end, and all the nice people are out being nice people. I am going to have to wait until Monday to get my help. My contest entry received eight reviews; of the eight, two actually showed me areas to improve it, and of course one judge’s review. I think the poor lady felt sorry for me and I got the newbie prize of 250 gp with the review or it won third place. I in my vanity like the third place idea; the truth is I’m just guessing. I hope I haven’t offended any one with this story. It is another attempt at a funny story. I don’t have any hard feelings with the judge she was honest, truthful, and even extremely helpful. Some points of interest; only one person didn’t find it funny, the judge. Only the judge and one retired teacher gave me a link. They both gave me really helpful reviews with writing style help. I am still holding on to three reviews of the eight. I still get a laugh every time I read the third email. I just love her closing line: This story is fun, and I still have a silly smirk on my face. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I'm building at "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"  Great place to read.I'm docked at "Blog Harbor from The Talent Pond"
, a safe port for bloggers to connect. |
| Dear blog I'm so sorry you so lonely you have to send me messages to update you. I do miss the time I spend babbling in here. Your like a blast from my past that I relive the good, the bad, and the ugly with. Did you stop to think that once my therapy was done I might not need you anymore except as a funny memory storage. it is all good and all in fun that I write this my ode to the need to update my blog, blog reminder. |
| Third time is the charm. What does that mean to you? Tell us about one of those times. What does it mean to me? Well, it is supposed to mean if you try something on the third time it is supposed to work. If only the things in life worked that way. I remember trying three different things on this one computer still wouldn't compute. Finally, after the seventh thing it worked. I would have had it the first time if I had ignored the owner and replaced the motherboard. Children don't work right, even on the seventh try at correcting bad behavior. I can just imagine having a conversation with God about them. "Lord this child is broken. Can you replace him with a nondefective model?" The Lord replies, "Yes, I can but it will take nine months and allowing him to grow up to this child's age." "Well, can't you just fix this one instead?" "Why would I do that? He is not broke. You are not teaching him in a manner he understands. Maybe I should fix you instead." Then the thought pops into my mind be careful what you wish for. Besides, who wants to wait another nine months and the six or seven years for the replacement. I'm sure the wife would have something to say about it to boot. Not that I would blame her. Even if they were broken at the time. Lets face it, they grow on you and the truth is, even if you got mad at them. You still love them and they are not all bad all the time. I never get the third time is the charm I go the sixth time was the charm. Our sixth child was the one every parent wants. He was so mellow and well behaved. |
| Prompt: Take the first sentence from your favorite book and make it the first sentence of your Blog entry. "The heat from the furnace was intense." Isn't easy to read something and go with the flow. Now what I see of this opening sentence is this guy had a really great home furnace heating his house. Or it could be they are in a factory and it is melting metals or a crematorium and they are cremating grandpa. Or it could be the furnace an ancient black smith used to create the copper and bronze swords with and armor. Basically it could be any thing that used a furnace. Since it wasn't specific in the first sentence. This is one of the reasons I always go for two or more sentences in reviewing that way anyone reading my review can understand what my reasons are for showing it. The only exception is pointing out flaws that drop the reader out of the story. |
| Prompt: I'm a Nurse. What's your super power? I work as a QMA {like a Nurse} in mental health and you don't have to be Batman or Superman to have super powers. Have fun with this. I am writer see me create. I am like a god, I create worlds full of characters, doing what ever I need them to do. Like god I care for my creations. I worry and fuss over them. Ever watching and oh the terrible pain when I lose one or have to take its life. I am ruled by the almighty plot as are my characters. When fate or the outline decree that my characters get hurt I am quick to heal them. Heaven forbid some reviewer or editor that even suggest I harm one of my babies. But in the end we do what needs to be done for the sake of the rest. I figured out the perfecting revenge to those that want to harm my creations. I will write then into my story and kill them off. That should teach them about baby killing. |
| Promptopolis: What kind of world would this be if there was no humor? I could just picture a dull Blue world according to this song: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Take away the humor and all you have is depression I hate being depressed. It makes me want to cut the finger or thumb that is press down on me. |
| Tell us about a time you ran away from something or someone. Word count 1,132 Running Through the Jungle Late at night, when the jungle smells of damp dead things stagnating. I prayed for rain for the clean fresh smell as the water cleans the air from the jungle taint. There was a noise off to my Left. It sounded like a small band of VC marching to the next village. It had the smell of a trap. Quickly I moved out of sight and high tailed it to the command tent. I woke the Lieutenant, giving him the no noise signal. I showed him the jungle marchers. He whispered, "Why have you shown me this?" I whispered back, "This is a trap. The VC always march silently. I wouldn't be surprised if they had us surrounded already, and are waiting for us to take their bait." We snuck back into camp. The Lieutenant snuck into the radio tent. We could hear some weird mumbling the Lieutenant stuck out his head and motioned for me to come in. He whispered in my ear, "Quietly awaken the platoon, make them stay low. Meet at the appointed jungle spot behind the tents after the shooting stops. Tell them to watch me while the crap happens" Hurrying around to each tent, I quietly wakening and warning them to get dressed in full fighting gear and keep low. I had no idea what the Lieutenant had in mind. I'm sure it wasn't pretty and will probably get us all killed. Since he decided to fight it here in our turf. It did give us the advantage of not activating their jungle traps. As I finished waking up the last tent. Artillery fire started hitting all around us. I hit the ground and stayed there. We could hear screams as the rounds were killing the VC surrounding us. Bullets started tearing through the tents. They were about waist high. They dropped a little lower. The Lieutenant had our guys scream in pain. The hams acted like they were dying to stop them from shooting any lower. Another set of artillery shells landed hard and fast. The tent firing stopped and VC shouting started. We could still hear the screaming in the jungle. Everything went quiet after that. The silence was like that of being in the eye of a hurricane. Calm and still it seemed not even a leaf moved. We heard the mortar fire and we cut the back of our tent and snuck into the jungle. We found the rest of the platoon there waiting for us just as the mortar rounds flattened our camp sight. The Lieutenant motioned for us to fan out and clear our side of the jungle. We went silent and moved slowly forward to the landing zone. We had to go slow looking for traps and man traps hidden by the jungle floor. I found three claymores, two grenades, and one land mine in my section of jungle. Our artillery opened up again. They almost destroyed all the jungle surrounding our camp site. The area where the noisy patrol had been, continued to burn, and smoke. The lieutenant was making good use of the smoke to sneak us out of that trap. We soon made it to the landing sight. There were no helicopters there waiting for us. The lieutenant had us half moon it and dig in making fox holes with pup tents over them. Most of the boys dug deeper down and under giving them sleeping room. They had nothing better to do. We spread out the dirt in the back part of the jungle. I went up to the Lieutenant and showed him my stash of traps. He quickly had us unload our stashes and bobby trap the area behind us. He wanted both our sides done as well. We settled back in to await the arrival of the helicopters. Someone else pulled guard duty and relieved me. This way, I could use my hollywood hotel room under the jungle floor. The freshly dug one filling with bugs and worms. Nothing like sharing a cot with critters. I really didn't care I was so tired. They never got the chance to wake me. The mortars hit us off to one side. They killed three men and wounded four guys. We quickly got out about that time the whole area where we planted all our traps exploded. We heard so much screaming and yelling it sounded as if we had taken down a whole battalion which might be true from all the stuff going on. We opened up in that direction with everything we had for one clip and moved out. The lieutenant had us charge into our trap zone. We found dead VC everywhere. We took time to gather up everything salvageable. We quietly finished off all we could find moving. We spotted the mortar crew. We all opened fire and took out everyone of them. Our fire triggered a mortar round and now nothing moves. After that explosion we started looking for the re-enforcements for all the VC we had killed. The jungle went silent again we turned back to the landing pad and found a lot of VC sneaking up to our tents. Someone opened fire on them and we were in one heck of a fire fight. I used up every bullet I had for my M-16. I now switched to the AK-47 I got from Charlie and proceeded to use up all the clips I had for it. The firing slowed down as everyone ran out of ammo. A grenade went off close to me it picked me up and threw me thirty feet backwards. I was down and out for heaven knows how long. When I awoke I was piled in bodies of my platoon. I found there were eight left alive and the helicopters were landing. We could hear them firing and clearing out the rest of the VC. I ignored my pains and aches and grabbed a wounded man. I ran him to the helicopter waiting for us. I handed him to the flight crew and ran back for another. I just kept running until I had ran all eight to the helicopter. After the eighth one I crawled in and life went blank until I awoke in a field hospital. I never knew I had taken a bullet or shrapnel to my guts. Once everything settled down and the VC no longer wanted that area. We recovered our men and were able to find everyone. It will be hard to send those bodies home The letters I have to write They made me the company commander for just this duty once I have finished, and I am fit for duty. I will be reassign to my permanent duty station. It is our promise that the marines will always send you home no matter the cost. I felt we had paid too high of a cost out there. I did learn us seventy men held off two battalions of VC. Taking out most of them with artillery and booby traps. We were lucky that the helicopters had just arrived with our replacements. This began the battle for Hamburger Hill. |
| Let's take a walk on the wide side...We all have something we'd like to write about, but that doesn't really fit our blog. Write it anyway. It was another hot and steamy day in the jungle. I was standing under the fan in my office to keep from totally drenching my uniform in sweat. Military standards wouldn't let me move my desk under the fan. I can hear five or six of the big Huey helicopters warming up to go out on missions. Sometimes to me military intelligence was an oxymoron. In bursts the officer of the day bringing in more heat and humidity. He motions me to follow. It looks like another secret briefing since he isn't talking to me. I have yet to figure that one out why every secret mission I go on. No one talks to me about or tells me where we are going. This is another point in military stupidity. If your guide gets killed how are you ever going to show up? He leads me out into the bright sunlight. Man, I wish we were issued sunglasses as part of our uniform, like the pilots and officers were. He took me to one of the warming up choppers and pushed me into the awaiting crew. They all grabbed me and loaded me in. As soon as they had strapped me in the pilot took off. No one was talking to me again like I didn't exist. A lot of special ops started this way if no one talks then no one witnessed anything. The point to all the silence was I wasn't there. This flight was off the records they never left base, and they did see me or talk to me that day. The only reason I put up with it was these poor guys had no clue what it was I do. That way they are protected in case I screw up. If any investigation ever came their way they knew nothing but their normal daily routines. To them I have been just a friendly technician with really high security clearance. I think the old man my commanding officer liked me. He always boasted how proud he was to have me on base. There were only two people in Vietnam that could repair the black boxes or on board flight recorders in all our aircraft. Those were me a Marine and a Naval officer. We never meet or are assigned together for any reason. What they do is if either one of our work comes into question one is assigned to check it out. The other is sent on a mission while this is done. If one comes into question too often I still have no clue what they do. I was never called into question during my two and a half tours of duty. Looking out the open doors for something to relieve my boredom. It looked like we were heading in the general direction towards Saigon. Great another four hours of travel at least the breeze blowing in the chopper sure helped in keeping us all comfortable. I motioned to one of the crew for food. He threw me a couple of C-rations. I took my time eating them I had nothing else to do the rest of the trip. Instead of heading into the main military airbase they took me to the secret base outside Saigon. He didn't land just hovered about a foot off the ground. They motioned for me to jump out. I jumped out on to that hot asphalt and started walking toward a forklift. I had noticed it earlier. The private motioned me to hop on the pallet. When I hopped on he raised it a foot off the ground and took off. He continued heading for the poorest excuse for an airplane hanger I have ever seen. I had this fear if I sneezed it would collapse and crush us all. Once we entered the building I noticed it had fooled me. It had been refurbished on the inside, and far stronger than I had seen from the outside. He continued driving to the back wall and turned into a hidden ramp going down under the hanger. We continued on traveling under this hanger to a steel fenced in area with two stacks of weird looking fifty-five gallon drums. The gate was guarded by two Marine MPs. The private stopped before the closed gate and pointed to the guard on the left. I jumped off the pallet and walked up to the guard. He fumbled for a minute, then saluted me. I returned his salute. He spoke, "My I have your papers?" I dug out my wallet and gave him all my credentials, I was allowed to carry. He spoke, "Hey, Sarge will you need any help here?" I spoke,"All the help I can get, those drums look heavy." The second guard opened the gate while the first guard store his rifle. The second guard followed suit and stored his rifle. The private now drove into the enclosure and up to the first stack of drums. The MPs used an overhead hoist to take the drums from the top of the stack and set them on the pallet. Once we had loaded six drums on the pallet they had me climb up on the first one and stay there. They tied a rope around the drums to keep them from shifting off the pallet. Once they were done, the Private backed out and headed back the way we came. He took it slower than last time with the foot pedal floored all the way. Sitting up here with those drums wasn't comfortable. The reason is on the top of every drum was what looked like a drain pipe bent like the bottom of one that directed water away from a the house at the bottom of the drain pipe. It really looked like gutter pipe. The curve on top made it look like a racing car air scoop. I noticed it was flexible and it could move around or swivel around. He exited the hanger and drove out to what looked like a restored B24 WWII bomber. I started thinking what could I be doing around this. I just shook my head. Naa! They wouldn't need me to work on that. He drove around my left side let me see the full left side than he went around the front and I saw the huge speaker under her nose. He continued around the front, then past the wing to the rear cargo bay door. I saw the plane's name on this side. It still had me wondering what this was all about. As soon as we pulled up to the cargo bay door. It opened and two crewmen greeted us. No one saluted this time. They guided in the forklift. By this time I was glad for any shade, and shelter from the heat. They untied the rope the tied it to each side of the cargo bay doorway. I started in unloading the drums, they were awkward with the air scoops on top. We rolled, and stored them along the left hand side going deeper into the plane. Once we got all them off the pallet the crew brought three drums that were a lot lighter and sounded like a ton of brass bullet shells shifting inside. We loaded them up on the pallet. One crew man motioned for me to follow him forward. He brought me up to the three Vulcan Mini Guns mounted on three tripods. I saw now what the air scoop was for. I studied the air scoops to see how they were connected to the guns. I released the clips on each side and got the thing free I quickly rolled it out of the way. We did the same thing to each gun. After the barrel disappeared the same crew man motioned me to load up the guns he position each drum one foot away from each gun. As I studied each air scoop. He spoke, "Sarge there is a string, stuck to the inside of each ammo loader find the string out and the open the magazine and place one bullet inside it shut the lid the push the eject button if it goes green push the drum up and lock down the ammo feed to the gun." I did exactly as he said. Only one staid red, until I slid the drum closer. Once I did that it went green. The crew man spoke again, "We're done. Let's get out of here." We ran back to the cargo bay door. I jumped up on the drums. The private backed the forklift out of the doorway and dropped pallet all the way to the ground. He parked the forklift. Next he held up a stopwatch. The Private spoke, "Record time gentile men. We may have a winner here." One of the crewmen piped up, "Hey! Captain, we have to leave now their calling our song again." The engines started up the captain turned to me and gave me the forklift keys. He said as he started moving to the cargo bay door, "Take it back to where we loaded it up and the MPs will get you home in time for supper." I drove it back to the cool underground storage area the guards had the cage open and motion for me drive in and park. I did exactly as they asked. Once I set down the pallet and shut off the engine. I got off expecting to help unload it. They had other orders, but they thanked me for trying to help. They locked up and brought me to a jeep we drove underground until we emerged in the military airbase. After a few minutes in that heat. I started wishing I was back underground. They kept on driving until we found my chopper parked and waiting. As soon as the crew saw our jeep the pilot fired up the engines and warming it up for a flight. The MPs drove me as close as they could safely. This made me wonder why they were so friendly. I knew I would get a chance to dry out my uniform on the way back to my base. It went smoothly for once, we even got a tail wind helping us along. Finally we made it back. After I got settled back into my hut the old man dropped in. Just as I was opening the refrigerator door. He spoke, "Defrosting the beer again, I see." I replied "No sir, just getting a cold one it was really hot today." He said, "The commander over the Vietnam theater requested your little trip. Now that you are back I can debrief you. I know you are used to us surprising you with all types of missions, but this one was both a test and a reward." I asked, "How's that, sir." He replied, "Well, how many dads can come home and say they help reload 'Puff the Magic Dragon' on a critical mission." He had me there. He continued, "They have been having problems with one of the crew so they're giving tryouts the head commander wanted to show off just how good you are. You were very impressive. When the guard screwed up and saluted the captain. You saved him by returning his salute. You worked your butt off on those ammo drums, both in the storage facility and aboard ship. In fact, you set a new reloading record." I spoke, "Really, it didn't feel like we were rushing anything a long. Just doing a dirty, hard, job that needed doing." He replied, "They have been wanting you to join the crew ever since they lifted off. The theater commander had to tell them why you couldn't be with them. Mostly because your mine to command and because there are only two of you in the whole Vietnam theater and they needed you both to keep doing what you do. If you notice I'm being really vague, it is on purpose. It's called the secrets act and it still is enforced even now. So for all you out there this is a work of fiction. If you choose to believe it I cannot stop you. |
| Prompt: If there was a real fountain of youth but there is one catch, you don't know what age you will be once you have drank the water. Would you still drink the water and take your chances? Now that would all depend on if I get to keep my present memories. If I did the sure go for it I got nothing to loose even it it only takes me back 1 minute. Or I could get lucky and have to start all over as a baby what a surprise when I start talking and walking and know stuff no baby would ever know. If I am forced to loose all my memories why bother who wants to relearn a lifetime of mistakes and learning lessons. No way do I want to go back and have history repeat itself once more as I will still do the same dumb and stupid stuff all over again it's in my nature. |
| Prompt: Why did you do it? The details are yours to discern. I did it out of desperation. Everyone who tried to help either told me it was good or best they ever seen. As the song "Liar" says they lied, now I'm stuck. I got so tired of working and no help in sight. Then after an extensive Google search I found help. Although I had a hard time on that site. When after spending a couple of weeks there, I asked one person for help and got trolled. I left, never to return. I went back to Google and tried again desperate for help. Now with the new site I have more friends than I ever had in my life, and I get help with anything all I have to do is ask. That is why I joined WDC and you have read the details. |
| DAY 102 June 13, 2014 It is Friday, the 13th. Are you superstitious? Have odd things ever happened to you or someone you know on Friday, the 13th? Where do you think all the crazy hype about Friday the 13th began? Avoiding the 13th floor? Was it about the number that makes people nervous? I believe the obsession with the number is from way back in the past our ancestors have always associated the number with Pagan rituals. Like thirteen candles to hold the devils mass or in a star circle drawn on the ground with thirteen points and candles on each point to summon daemons into our would to bind them and force them to do our wish. Or what ever evil some Satan worshiper practices. Now as a writer I have to keep an open mind or else lose story ideas. After watching the "The Da Vinci Code" and a few other movies and doing a little digging around. It is very plausible that the Roman Catholic Church did in deed lie about some of the old practices as being of the devil. How else are you going to change peoples faith and gather more converts. The point is why keep hiding it. why not admit the past and press forward unless your hiding something even worse that what was done and documented in the past. Boy what fun a writer can have with these ideas. I believe these are all myths and superstitions from our past that once held real meaning, but have been pasted down so long they really are urban myths now days. |
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