%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
FANDANGO MOVING ON UP! I-net BLOG/ Consider RE-OPEN 12 DAYS OF BLOGGING/ WINTER 2014 |
|
Due space ... cyber space, sillies @ a thing they call BLOG BOARD, am considering re-booting FICTION FANDANGO. Also, did find former arena for viewing latest blog creations from community members. Who blog along @ the train we may dub http://www.writing.com. At that spot one may still find latest blogs by date & hour. This random thing that swept the site like a cow catcher, never cut it with moi. Writing seriously comes @ a price. Not costly in the least, instead a crux quite easy on the eye and mentally relaxing fer sure. That's the craft for you --- when folks dedicate their works to a degree of ultimate impression for their audience. 'Random' applied like salvage for lackluster pieces clocks in as unfunny, uncanny sameness, tech gear only, buy-this-buy-that, keep up with the Jonses, be a married couple only, paint the white picket fence of online persona clone-ship is history. It always was for a talented ken of authorship. So, if boredom turns you on, personally can't even grasp the concept. Okay? Previously FANDANGO underwent a major wash & dry, hung out to air since ... summer 2013, when blogs crumbled along with golden rod, last Autumn. A year before --- 2012 @ Teffom Estates came with discoveries which eventually tuned into major news events due revelations from Edward "Scissors hands" Snowden. International press hounded the guy all the way to Moscow. What he revealed to the American Public, due a closed and corporate owned media in the States ... went entirely unrelated to domestic spying. A blight on these shores, to be sure. Suffice, IF TEFF rants, don't think she dislikes EVERYONE. I don't. I do run the EVERYONE contests and oh my --- have nerve to dub myself Prez @
Also, currently searching my own bonafide noggin for a way to kick start another truly laid back group @
Regionally we can only do our best. Of course, thru our writing. Most folks are not active protesters, another thing like even a hint of news (shunned onsite) remains in disfavor nationwide. Oh, yes, my pretties, tis in fact out there like a ground cover of wild geranium. Why, lucky we color ourselves when finding real news, these days. Hoaxes come, entrapment stories build but common sense lives on in a place you may dub: -------- FICTION ------ FANDANGO ------- A ----- WRITER'S ----- BLOGGEROO. HAPPY NEW YEAR. Deadline Jan 30 ... @
Christmas past submissions, encased in the only Christmas Genre Anthology onsite & online open See:
Perplexed while wondering about the CLUBs Silent Ones @
FANDANGO LIVE spells no pressure stats for moi. (I) might blog a bit, but short story time is more important, you see. Plans to make, resolutions to keep and sure ... the beat goes on. Public thanks to all who entered 2013s Everyone Contests which proves most successful. Yipee! Completion toward judging winners cicle while R&R (reading & rev) stories soon. Oh boy! Promoting same, holding in hand like Magi-ware then gifting ala Secret Santa. DONATIONS WILDLY NEEDED FOR CONTESTS. Please E-mail TEFF. Comments open @ FANDANGO. Sept 1/TWENTY-FOURTEEN! Officially open @
Tap the above if you like Ghostbuster mid. Also, accepting submissions all year long, from EVERYONE! MAY RE-OPEN in JAN @ un-revamped {bitem: Recenty Anthology created @
PUBLISHERS, CALL ME! Ditto @
Oh, the giraffe on the cover spells sticking FANDANGOs neck out there into that offsite view world aka an I-net EYE! |
KICKING AN OLD STONE Oh, Hello there. FANDANGO SHALL CONTINUE!!! This week was poorly spent ... UHOH Except for two news items, reported, recap slant written below & focused upon, TWO MORE ON THE WAY, please stay tuned here. Decisions sewn, mending fraying sleeve of a hobo, came rather slowly to moi. All week pondering. Fear is in the air, almost every lousy time I visit favorite haunts online. No sense told myself yesterday to switch tactics. Thus applying the basics. I shall never use a PC to communicate online ever again came to mind on the Thursday. My head ached. Finally mid afternoon saw stupid Windows Updates pushing adds to buy new PCs. Well, by golly, almost threw the one in the house off a cliff. Nah, resisted clicking that advert. Clicking is a word I hate as much as feedback. Poor babes, out of the loop? Chile, webbers don't click. I also came out against more than a few things which limit I-net access. So what if just a few minutes ago actually typed in search words --- "Why join a writers' group." Enjoy that mental exercise, sweethearts. Yesterday, fell across less exposure on webring, but of course not at all ready. Yet, to conjure a webtv website another name for webpage BTW. Find there are tons of short cuts with very sophisticated graphics and clip arts. Even music. Okay, here's my new deal, I told myself: Whenever that stinky PC slows turn it off. Take a walk, Did that. Now, no one shall see me on the damn thing until post Thanksgiving, a real given. And yeah, I refuse to destroy a single connection so I could return to favorite spots and say at least a polite hey, maybe monthly from now on. No lie. Frazzled is frazzled and my intellect can't handle the implications of being unloved. I don't find suitable etiquette these days. Do however totally welcome this month's quest via webtv knowledge gained. A ting to be thankful for by all means. YES!! Kinda hate nervous knees while hoping virtual memory lasts on a PC. Kinda hate being told what to do, asked what to do. Face it PEOPLE! Repetition for no reason drives anyone nuts, or at least it should. Yeah, we spent more boring hours boinking performance. What? You expect me to do that daily? Get out of my face. For whom? Repeated news made me ill actually, queasy after a quick look at Twitter which limits word counts and supplies incoherence as if at all a grand new addition dubbed information sharing. That is simply disgusting when words of a news article, written and published by someone else become lumped like spam. Yes, this journalist watched the Afghan Peace deal topic (below), become swiped like it was a stale donut inside a Mac Donald's dumpster. Free & up for grabs. That's what online news sinks to include. Can't find any reasons to brag about the tiny fb logo. Similar to verbal repeats on televised think tanks with talking heads leading the homeless who are simply sitting on a sidewalk, watching a screen outside an appliance store. So, since, I can't blend, and will never bend --- I must only arrive at my own damn things, once a month. Yeah, come late Nov --- I'll again roast our succulent turkey in the cauldron this year. Maybe even email one of my groups. Who knows? In short, greedy media corporations rushed to mingle their forces in late 2008(?) when allowance came to monopolies entering broadcasting. The downside was here to stay. No deviation. BECAUSE media corporations purchased local tv stations, newspapers. THUS: radio station variety became a rare exotic bird. Like-minded, fatcats from the world of communication (a mythical phrase) also threw money at state colleges. ALL approved via a slim margin by the Commerce Department. Yeah, quite a bit of this already made the wire on FreeSpeechTV, ala Dish Network. So as lost as we all may be, hoping for diversity across the nation we live in, state by state, our adroit communal sadness can be replaced by a terrific ken for anger. Millions of people are mad about what we lost. When news is un-reported, whitewashed and censored --- Diversity is difficult to find now. Nope, aint gonna look day & night for stuff such as thrilling news bites which used to be --- showed up damn fast. These are becoming only accessible at certain times these days. Try one a.m. Or don't try at all. I simply don't give a damn what other people do or don't do. Never did really. My ideals were cast years ago. TEFF has plans for publication, communication, and tons of fiction to write and cherish. You see? Long time coming to not lurk lost in the shuffle which always was high priority from this desk. To have 30 offsite hits (yeah could be returning readers, could be blocked readers, could be clones) is about as far as it goes. Although, never as good as it gets. If any site cannot fathom the simplicity of webtv users, that is not my fault, nor shall posting on those places remain a to-do-ie which is not as simple as embracing that fun walk on a late October day. So, if you'll excuse me off to build a webpage. Shall I tell you where it is located when it is done? Why? Rather burnt out on what passes for sharing, like had rather enough, my dears. TEFF shall never post her latest fiction anywhere ever again for free.** You see? Listen, folks in the words of one of the greatest comedians of all times --- TTTHHHHHH -- thhhhhaaaaahhhh that's all folks!!! Lastly, speaking of comedians --- don't miss Jon Stewart/ Steven Colbert --- DC - FREE RALLY/ Oct 30/ noon to 3pm --- LIVE on Comedy Central. Meanwhile, restoring sanity, crazily smitten due entirely to webtv. Hell, I always did enjoy the ease. If encrypted pages don't want this wireless keyboard, and websites block access for my little black box? Let's just say, the feeling is mutual. TIME is a wonderful thing, meant to be spent wisely. Wasting time waiting for connections is frivolous, and creepily not on this dame's itinerary, pal. Just so readers understand --- to set the record straight. And I know Miss TEFFY aint alone in webtv.net land. What I also know is when they are actually working websites, these ultra active, brilliantly hued, webby webpages of ours, they are kinda comparable to Lamborghini stats, over and above plain, sameness. One last thing before I split for parts unknown .. to undisclosed locations, etc. The word on the street for "confusing" which is a verb, often used as an adjective or noun ... try bewilderment. Tantalizing right along, okay? Damn, if all of the above, if that aint bothersome to y'all --- ask the next question. Does constant repetition build to mind control? Bloody jesus, all PC's sport this tactic or (yike-arooni) cause that sinful sham. OR? Either --- OH NO!!! Virginia! (Poor youngin, she did realize about age seventy-two that Santa is a pre-conceived myth to make kids behave, a bribe. Yinz know?) Allrighty then. This precast, molded, advertised, overly praised, online boredom, now adept at controlled news --- all combined --- could mean, fucksake, these actions result in pretty closely the same damn thing. Mind control, nope not for moi. No apologies. Spt 26/12 Ed notes. Some of my fiction is still up on the online. Once in awhile I open (publish via webtv) a few webpages. BESIDES -- we all know and should readily admit any decent hacker can read whatever he/she manages to access, along with that peculiar color ladder of wc-ers & WDC staff ... uh(?) most likely. Plus, while surfing check nicknames for this lauded spot you (as writer/blogger) may call home. Methinks KDP is a sellout also. Poor Kindle and me involvement wise stopped last month ... REMIND self must visit the library as I'm blocked from my own BOOKSHELF. BESIDES there's no KDP coppers, so who knows who/ whom/ whomever keeps sales $$$? FACT: There is no online honor system. On the personal side of life ... handed over a few things reluctantly. Because I had to --- for protection sake here at the house. No. 1 --- finalized a formal report RE: a CPA of ill repute. No. 2 --- Being sorely fed up with a particular, fly-by-night lawyer, because I was asked to do so, reported him. BOTH snakes were provided ample time to embrace a modicum of honesty which sadly has not been forthcoming for nearly 23 months. No. 3 --- Copping a one month break from ongoing problematic, healh threatening issues due duress. PS: Last Fri, confessed quietely to a librarian pal that I had 22 months of worry, but that it passed as best it could. Then I broke into laughing & couldn't stop. She shook my arm, looked me in the eye. "Twenty-two months? That's some worry. Mary, it must be over, you're laughing about it." Suffice, she's correct. Sh sh sh. No. 4 --- Concentrating on CAULDRON TIME, my favorite season which annually finds me in the great outdoors often. No. 5 --- Always about the writing. HAPPY AUTUMN! YEAH, DAMN STRAIGHT! --- 'TIS CAULDRON TIME! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
SMOKE IN AFGHANISTAN PEACE NEGOTIATIONS? Anyone? ... 879,000 search results surround the words: "Taliban Elite Aided by NATO" WHAT -- Headline, TALIBAN ELITE, AIDED BY NATO, JOIN TALKS FOR AFGHAN PEACE by Mark Mazetti One beholds Mark's entire first paragraph swiped enroute to the world wide web. Still eking its weary mental stress stats by Oct 26. Well, the Times is currently offering an interactive due to The Iraq War document leak via Wikileaks. Yeah, this too came about approx one week before Sat. Oct 23's publication. All thanks to Mr Assange who drops his suitcases then splits. Let's allow for time for reporters to dig thru the pile. WHERE -- NY Times Headline (above) originally, now making all the rounds online via online editions of major newspapers from cities across the nation. Yeah, filling cheap seats as well, rambled & ranted inside many a blog. Me? Hell, I think its awful to read the first responders, all with nonsense names like nn.ahmapatriot to nn.infavorawar ... or nn.fatcatpatsy & nn.juicygander who almost all feel peace talks are shady beeswax and rather patriotically condemn everyone from Afghan Pres Karzai all the way down to Sec of State Hilary Clinton. WHEN -- Oct 19/ Oct 20, New York Edition/ Section A1, page 1 WHAT-- Huge, 77,000 archive of military, and consensus documents leaked via Julian Assange, July/ August 2010 ... for Afghanistan --- covering 2003 on ... to 2010. WHO --- Sec Clinton. Bizarre as this my sound, Mrs. Clinton appears on Good Morning America (ABC) as early as Oct 7, from Brussels. No, please don't ask me how? AND she states emphatically without a hint of shame, nor remorse since cataloging her early hour remarks .. that she moreorless hopes for an end to the Afghan war/ occupation. I threw in the second noun, sorry. As relative tie, if anyone is still trying to think, which to my knowledge is not against the US Constitution, perhaps encouraged for a population in dire straights --- not overall pushed verbatim by the education powers that be in this great nation of ours, but perhaps by the words --- freedom of speech. Half those search hits contain the same words. Divide again, once more, keep subtracting, etc. Now, perhaps a mere 6,000 are left repeating the same damn smoke swap. Peace in Afghanistan is not a popular topic apparently. Hold the phone as the story goes NATO cleared the way for certain Taliban echelon to meet in Kabul. Kinda safe passage from --- note: Pakistan. So they are in Pakistan? Also, we read of the escapades of NATO "coalitions forces" and Pakky INTEL folks. Everyone's bound to make a buck. What unlikely suspect turns down a decent bribe, we might ask in a chaotic, bloodbath mess gutted with intelligent nutcrackers. Whom -- oh, these like don't know, won't tell --- whatever the hell is going on-ers? Yes, American families would rather see ships bringing troops home to Morehead City, NC than taking them to a strictly foreign land, where not even those behind the scenes fellers in the Washington Post's list for their July article: SECRET AMERICA, activating privatized spying, live bodies who make more than a sniffle, sneezing at us as they wipe their snotty paystubs. Where's the hopeful word? What is peace? Must we engage for profit, forever? What the hell is going on? Along comes A/P. Now the sell out ensues by OCT 25 with their ballbusting article, reading like a cheat sheet for a state police exam. Meanwhile, both the ever-popular, continuously over-vociferous, Mr or Ms White House Sources, the Sources family, inter-married to Mr or Ms Officials. How large this gaslighting, glib clan must be. Whew -- what a hoot, these guys, all adept at saying pretty much the same damn thing, media conveyed cant delivered to thy newsfeed desk or front door. Well, back to good old AP which honestly feels duty bound to remind readers (mid Oct) that peace talks might damage "the surge." Identified as the 300,000 service men and women sent by President Obama, ala one of the rare supplications when he's actually introduced as President instead of simply Obama. Yes, Associated Press, let us all genuflect. We understand where you're going with this. Yet, we-uns rarely find opportunity to appear out of nowhere like y'all, writing from nearby Islamabad. Next ... as the entire scene thickens, before total collapse of mini, online, press whiffs of common sense, namely working to close down the Afghanistan conflict ala thoughts RE: ending this so-called war with a slight stab at negotiations ... we find by Oct 14, our US Sec of State in Turkey, where all news pointed toward a "friendly" country to manhandle possible peace talks. AHAH! So, no we don't know a ting. Citizens left holding a stale bag of chips. From the peanut gallery we may conclude we boast few dedicated news reporters nor mum as sheep, Washington bigots as in actually elected, nor appointees, etc willing to cross the line for truth seeking. The latter garbley-gooking about bereft of announcing not a single clue as to what are the haps re: this blogs slant on that daring, opening headline by Oct 26, the Tuesday. Let peace reign supreme, for Pete's sakes. Sources: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/20/world/asia/20afghan.html |
JULIAN ASSANGE, BACK IN THE NEWS This blog starts here: Just when you think, you're catching up on your reading, along comes the New York Times with another full scale, Iraqi news blowout taking over the weekend at the most popularly read newspaper in the USA. All courtesy of former, computer hacker, Julian Assange, infamously beleaguered by what he does as any man on the lam must possibly be. The news is WikiLeaks, courtesy of founder, Assange is whistle blowing once more. This time with a mere "391,832 secret documents" to slog thru, according to the New York Times, Oct 23, 2010. While msn.com carries, on its homepage for webbers across the world, this NYT headline: MIX OF TRUST & DESPAIR HELPED TURN TIDE IN IRAQ, readers may sniff what tide is that, dear? Pull into the station of full tilt disclosure by landing on the first stepping stone, launched by John Burns & Ravi Somayi's: WIKILEAK'S FOUNDER ON THE RUN, a peculiar Assange tell all for the man who only "twelve weeks ago" gave the world a stingy "77,000" documented Afghan war leaks, as long as the Brooklyn Bridge. In the latter article, Private Manning is mentioned, not as an identified source, mind you, but similar to a war casualty. Oh, they, the powers that be, the military grabbed this guy, faster than a penny free falling from the Empire State Building, Aug 2010. Yup, Manning faces, life imprisonment and up to "52 years." Used to be there was at least a decorum of whistle blower protection status for the fearless. Well, maybe you read it first on msn.com when that five page segment concludes --- although pivoting on what happened in Iraq during gurj bu's administration. Below, the final line both sells out and even ignores all this death toll, detailed awfulness. None of it pleasantly patriotic pandering--- while not a bit easy to read. Instead, rather hard to take comes to mind. Here's the tie, while all 2010's wikileak paraphernalia rains down upon a nation, gracing far off London, Sweeden, Iceland from go-getter, grabbing the world spotlighter, Australian, Assange. Okay. The New York Times tells it like it is --- be ready now, once its in the Times, oh it's history allright --- for wisdom's sakes. "But war is always clearest in retrospect, and it remains to be seen whether Afghanistan has reached that point." (Conclusion line from Mix of Trust ... Headline from NYT, on msn.com 10/23) Since the summer of 2010, kinda felt an Iraq wikileak lurked moreorless just around the corner. Yeah, now officially burst upon the scene. Which sure will keep reporters busy in New York City, pointing finger again in far London. Assange usually sells to the highest bidders. We're the ones holding the bag, while President O goes a little more berserk. While hearts and minds return to our military families and lost soldiers in both embattled theatres. Hell, me? Along with that wishy-washy concluding last line --- I totally dislike an overemphasis on perfect tense in journalism. But hey, readers, they might want to know they may also  DEADLY DAY IN BAGHDAD:(Dec 20, 2006) in Sunday, Oct 24'S, NYT from Sabrina Tavenise. Or try on for size: James Glanz & Andrew Lehren's: GROWING USE OF CONTRACTORS ADDED TO WAR. Know why doesn't this last headline surprise anyone? Say, didn't that unspeakable aside make more new millionaires? Yes, aka war profiteering and in violation of the USA Constitution. pal. 30/all PS: I'd buy a copy tomorrow of the NYT, although kinda hard to find in Deluth. Demmit. BTW, this journalist can use a job, so, sure buzz me, Mr. Publisher Man. Sure, would love to be paid for writing again. WEBRING shows PENS ALA BYO CAFE --- |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** http://norbert26.com/halloween/ghostbusters.mid Fandango/10-9 Hello there, thanks for stopping by. Aren't you brave? Hope your Saturday plans work out well. Initially, premising this ideal (below) a blog standard, shall not be repeated nor drummed about FANDANGO like stale bread crumbs, here at Teffom Estates best served lavishly with snow on the ground. Namely: please don't visit here assuming any formalities akin to what passes for --- or is catering a drive to my addressing "wc thought patterns."* Can't do it, won't allow any sinking of FANDANGO into being like minded affecting there is such a thing. Which there isn't. Nor should there be if we cure ourselves with splashes of openmindedness. In short, if you love reading linear scales on a daily basis, go ahead, knock yourself out. Here's the sentence. This writer, moi, goes one way--- mine. That way began with a 2005-09, serial/ blog/ JUNEBUGS & ELDERBERRY WINE, setting a pace detailing what, aw shucks, umpteen readers missed. Sure, contains Mary's Maine Stories, etc, 150,000 words+, US History, that particular marketable -- five year, full bloggeroo, part of my stuff, so if you feel out in left field without a catcher's mitt --- eh? These may re-surface, so you've warning early on. "Invalid Item"  is open currently for I-net views, extending a bit of courtesy here & there to ALL readership, but never kowtowing to site traffic only. Yes, it's nice of me to re-open this blog. An author to-author hint runs: best not to limit your audience to a thin line, unless, of course, you are sticking to a particular genre. While swimming away from sameness, consider or guess @ reasons that much digital writing falls into a devalued category of partially always nicey-nice, broodingly purporting disinformation spread like margarine on cheap white bread. Which includes bogus writing adversaries. Stormy matters. Yes, we'll guess at these options, whereas instead of finding relevant work one may often sidestep into non-questioning shadows. Seldom, coming forth into a land of wonder-why, electronic writing attributes are tending to encompass a growing lack of creativity from each our own front porches. Me? I think it dwarfs into extreme PC overuse. But, inside WRITERS WAR there's much more elaboration with small samplings via research on this beaut. Well, cross referencing the lot is chapter worthy. And sure, ideas are treated as if they are for all mankind to use, swipe and in some cases not cite. This remark is scary in the effect that if this aint illegal, where the hell are we? Writing is not merely defined by semantics nor random syntax side of things. It includes the craft aka LIT. Therefore, adopting just one aspect or meaning is an audacious viscous circle running let's suppose --- okay, kids, pick up your pencils, sing a sopranic alphabet ditty as you methodically, write a b c d e f g. Or grab that PC keyboard and type me a quick twiitty twitch. Lord, now, sunnova Beeser --- there's a freakin crick in my damn neck. Rather chilly out here on the sunporch this morning. 'Scuse me a sec, returning inside for a mohair sweater. Be right back. Sit down, take a gander about. Nearby Hawk Mountain Bird Sanctuary offers a migrating raptor or fifty. And no contrary to popular belief, yours truly is not one of them. Hell, I'm just a glutton for craziness. Thing is I love my life is not a tattersall, slamdunk into boring presentations. No way --- apologies. AT FANDANGO we smarty up, not dummy down. Oh, goody, more hot hazelnut brew, also donning toasty calf high slippers. Say, are you with me so far? Neither shall blog readers encounter adroit ties to whatever partyline of spin makes media rounds. If your only means of perusal falls upon a simple field, up to you to broaden that playing tarmac. Sorry. TEFFY swims away from ultra-sameness freakouts. As far as I can see, there aint a damn thing for it. This just be fact. Ahah! Speaking of facts. Journalist, and renown investigative reporter, Bob Woodward is rather making headlines again this week. Seems, his non-fic OBAMA'S WARS is actually mentioned on the morning of OCT 8, 2010 in connection with the departure of James L Jones, re-deployed National Security Advisor. James Jones "'had been long rumored ..." to leave his position. Hold up: had been long rumored ---oh? Me: Scuttlebutt. "White House staff ..." came out "critical" (against) Jones for conversing with Mr. Woodward. Hmm? Now 'tis not FANDANGO'S fault if you, yourself, your college freshmen, nor Gran don't partake of free online newsfeeds. Well, a shared brief --- According to the NYTimes News Alert: Oct 8, 2010. Shucks, Jimmy. Too bad, huh? Citizens? How about that? What may one glean from such remarks? Well, could be that speaking one's mind, answering questions truthfully, while being honorably interviewed is shunned upon these days. Nothing new there. Guy just deviated from a MO of possibly keeping his mouth shut. Which appears so clamorously obvious in this our, greatly changed county, a residence where the last twelve years --- turned rock bottom applications of sanity and wellbeing to near chaotic pretensions. Come on now? Yes, we pretend every day. A nation of overlookers, not all apathetic, by any means. October Rebellion comes to mind, deep in the blood. Lizards leaping ... plainly, CAULDRON TIME!!! Curiosity calls, while we follow along, teeter like cats on hot tin roofs, perhaps interested ones may take the occasional look see at the Nobel Committee, in full swing during this gorgeous month of October. Yet .. Serendiptously eagles soar southward. Heavenly, weather indeed. Autumn threatening to dry out the last of our sunflower trees. Uhoh. "Here, Kitty, kitty. Damn, if Big Whitey didn't run under his porch again. Little, Sneaky Feet. He's a thing for dry dirt from bygone eras, when a foundation was laid, right beneath my slippers. Similar to wallowing in antique English grammar, my friends. Do the latter at your own damn peril. Ah! Life in the slow lanes. Nope, can't beat that with a fancy, splithair-ed broomstick. I tell you true. According to the NY Times:" Peruvian writer Mario Vargas Llosa has won the 2010 Nobel Prize in Literature." Cool, read as well this Septuagenarian winner has over 30 novels to date. Imagine! The crux of the voice (another Sorte Americana, El Voce) according to The Swedish Academy quote, notes via brief explanation ... "honoring" Llosa "for his cartography of structures of power and his trenchant images of the individual's resistance, revolt and defeat." ----- My GAWD!! Now that bespeaks both struggle and strong characterization. Put that in your book, huh? It's come to my attention to try a few things for WEBRING this month, among my other writing list to-doies. Patiently, only staring @ the bland, PC, that, crying-outloud, beast when absolutely nec. Webbers welcome to FANDANGO! Non-webbers. suggest you look up webtv on Wikipedia. Talk about innovation in business ventures. It it twas TEFF, I wouldn't turn down eight million webtv users by making them adopt to strain without direct communication. No, not me. As in Never! Don't worry though, we can easily swim away from average e-writing. Besides, RE: eight million out here in webtv land, each one of us has families, plus six email addresses. We never fear, take the money and run, middle men, e-tech geeks pushing "security" and handling "encrypted pages." But we-uns can hear this: http://norbert26.com/halloween/ghostbusters.mid ... WEBTV fishes with a net ... like all avid anglers ... most likely. Thus to the 48 million of you people out there, there's no hitting all of the titles even in my own sad portfolio, can't send email nor post on forums ... not here at least, and still the beat goes on. But, yeah do-able with I-net Explorer, contentiously slower than stopped traffic, backed up for sixty-five miles outside Washington, DC. Oh, looky there. An I-HOP -- and we so do want to devour us some flipping. rebellious Johnny cakes. Whitey's waving --- BYE! Today's blog wrap === 2+ hours. Maybe someday we'll here thank yous for at least time spent. Never know. Say what FANDANGO FANS? Creative Writing is time well spent while blogging claims no boundaries. Waitress, dear? May we please have blueberries with those flapjacks? THANK YOU!! Sept 2012 ED Note: Too much the same on wc? YES!! WHY? Guessing --- staff suggests so via revs & NLs --- and yeah ... when it is the same as fifth grade composition class (the flash fics/ an almost repetitious ken for no averbs, no adjectives and low word counts ---) gonna assume that boring sameness may be from the same writers. Paid or unpaid? OR: uhoh, from their kid-za. Meanwhile there's us real folks w/ true grit. Hell, I met @ least nine in 8 years. And in this blog intro ... one can read & purchase my short stories on KINDLE! If one might be so kind. Maybe that'll help. Somehow, somewhere, sometime, someplace? DIG? And oh --- IT'S CALDRON TIME! |
| WEBTV-ers WELCOME TO "Invalid Item" "Dedicated to TOM, with a tribute to truthfulness. Like to think he'd enjoy this flash back to the good old days ... http://norbert26.com/halloween/bewitched.mid MEANWHILE --- OCT 5 --- LOOKY HERE!!! FANDANGO is alive and well and OPEN!!! Oh, good morning, and how are you? Morning @ Teffom Estates always comes with writing. Ideas depart bed covers, two cats go airborne, legs swing upon the floor, feet tear to the kitchen for last night's coffee, reheated later. First comes the cold cup with, of course, the inevitable addition of coffee creamer. The latter split with either Vitamin D milk or water, brown sugar, a thick touch of coffee, vanilla, a dash of nutmeg and whatever cream one hordes for rainy days such as this. All budget stretching aside, magical concoctions best mixed cold, stored in china, refrigerated. All normal round these parts. Today, enjoying Hazelnut Coffee with Vanilla Carmel Creamer from Carnation elasticized as far as the Ohio River, which incidentally, yours truly did have privilege to reside beside in the way way past ... when we lived in West By God Virginia. In a very sorry state due to MTR aka MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL, aka VALLEY FILL MINING --- courtesy of King Coal. Well, next: open the emails with the sole purpose of eliminating spam. Gawd Almighty, I wish patrons start buying viagra, so my day goes a tad bit faster. So toss out all that crappola, unread and seriously unwanted. On a good day there are no news alerts from the NY Times. Since Nobel Peace Prize time beckons  ah here's one just in. Apparently a thing called quantum physics which Miss TEFFY accepts as real, similar to a rebellious Baptist stepping out of line for Fried Chicken. Although, I'd be hard pressed to heed quantum surrounds. Did and do, however, annually strut myself into another provocative research mode encompassing: exotic weapons. Fascinating and horror ridden, those beatific reading meanders. Last time that happened, I somehow, without just cause, disappeared for an entire week. Swear to gawd. (Oh BTW -- the title of this blog is overhead) reprinting here with a no.2 pencil "Invalid Item" So roll out the covers, roll out the coffee, read the news clip. Okay -- basically we've a new gnome present on Planet E. Namely: "grapheme" details, according to the Times, "an ultra thin material" OCT 4, ultra-recognized in far off Sweden. Splash! Sooo-ree, sloshed Java on java script. WHEREAS -------> Two physic majors aka scientists from the University of Manchester, UK, where else (?) invented in 2009 this thing we call grapheme. So the winners are! Geim and Novosel. Look thass all I know. Now ===> RE: Denver Chips. These, delicious, crispy potato absolutes were created in Denver, PA. Sure, beyond delicious. Munch, munch. Teffy loves salty things which probably explains a lot. Now, woke up thinking cookie cutter, nicey nice ref could sum how folks are scared as black cats caught in dark, crime ridden back alleys to "offend" with "their" writing. Now, this type of writer limits their audience takers considerably. Myself, as you may or may not know, purely gives a flying fig. I'm with Abe Lincoln on this nonsensical attitude. You're apt to be misread by the reading preference crowd whose thoughts crowd the page, so why really take to heart -- "You can't please all of the people all of the time." Crux of this here blog is to come away with a peruse straight thru pen, aiming toward entertainment, information, etc. Well, I knew this guy named Tom. He was one of 'em fellers who had no problem speaking his mind to anyone. Yes, he waxed obnoxious, hit the nail on the head via insightful observations, which he had not a single qualm verbalizing. In short, even if you didn't like Tom, you loved him. Well, God Rest in Peace, my good friend Tom died at an early age (42) in April, 2001. In retrospect, talking to his widow by year's end, we were almost relieved he never witnessed the horrendous demise of the Twin Towers, NY City -- Sept 11, 2001. TOM was always what is dubbed "half mad" at the entire world from gov-mint to earth destroying powers of wealth, you see? Nowadays simply hearing the word "corporations" puts a blanket on sanity. Whatever. So, while Tom was still in his outspoken prime, I stopped to see his wife, planning a short un-announced visit, if they were home. Purchasing enroute precious hand dipped, garage manufactured DENVER CHIPS, that same afternoon. Inside my Lamborghini De Ville with a cracked quad pipe, rear end scratch, V-12 ... as yellow as a golden finch --- I prepped a bag for my hosts from a five lb can. Which, the Moffetts bought once a month. These chips are golden, deep friend and should indeed win the PA Potato Chip contest some day. For the rest of his life, Tom had nice things to say about me, after that day. Intel swaps with him were akin to horseracing tips. I never forgot our relationship as acquaintances. God, we all miss him. Anyways, after his heart attack, which took him to heaven in less than one slim hour ... from where he lay in the woods, after chopping wood for his fireplace, to keep his young wife warm on a cold, Spring day, back in 2001 --- there came to pass a funeral like no other that the world has ever seen. Like, I said earlier, one often hated Mr Tom at the same time you loved him. He was never cookie cutter, boiler plate correcto-mundo language wise. Yeah, like normals, he cursed a blue streak, kids. Not his style to keep quiet. We arrived at Tom's send off, cordoned off like a folk festival, below pristine skies on a sunny morning .... When his courageous, heartbroken wife wept thru her entire eulogy for her husband of only a few years, she being the younger of the pair. We couldn't find a place to park, but ran two blocks in high heels anyways. Inside, the place stood packed, not only with flowers, but with a damn nigh decent showing. Tearful humanity jammed grasping for breath, shoulders touching, all pushing for square footage. SO, IS IT ABOUT Denver Chips, expression or fearlessness when we communicate? Look, the right answer is whatever for each thy individual selves. God, love an ex-Marine any day of the week in our friend, Tom's case. Gotta love the glowing log in the fireplace, that proverbial author's hearth, a wonderful audience, books in hand, great reads. Plus, all those weeping, leather clad, motorcycle dudes who bade old Tom farewell. Now off to delve into my mysterious I-net contest side. Cheerio! Signed, Mary Moffett ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WEBBERS --- ONLY --- Special thanx to NORBRT! Click on! Uh, no you didn't? Yup. Needed to be outlined for clarity's sake: "OCTOBER NEWS & REVEALING RANT" |
| WOW, LOOK OUT!! OLD TEFFY IS BACK! "Invalid Item" closed for such a long spate, almost forgot the call numbers.So, how is EVERYONE tonight? Under the spell of a dark & stormy night at my real house. RE-OPEN due to specific writers who are invited to a certain contest, a total offsite work in progress. Maybe guests shall stop over. Then I can dance with glee. To set the record straight: My portfolio belongs entirely to em-whah. IF visitors arrive at this carrier, a popular, writing website, they might see that unspoken, differences in the past exist between myself and a number of review type advisory groups, persons or plain hack writers. This is not my fault. This port tries to offer a call for submissions to open contests. Used to be TEFF (That's ME!) opted travelling the extra mile to render accurate writing advise, differentiating between writing how-to/ how not to, while pointing out bogus remarks, which unfortunately pass as relative to the craft. First of all, any reviewer who reviews or edits inside a rev whom does not write does the deed at peril for the actual written work or maybe harms an author of that particular work as well. As years rushed past here (now there are indeed six, for TEFF's portfolio creations) I kept my chin up, favoring compatibility to my ISPs. Although blown away with a tie to steady streaming of writing talk aimed primarily (overall) @ students held in the grip of educational venues, grade school to high school. This is not my fault. The happenstance re-changes, may I please predict, may be steering away from such dribble, hope so. Spatial stats are marvelous. People may compliment whomever they wish. One sometimes encounters degrees of absolute, brown-nosing, discovers groups who all agree without logical questions to the contrary. This is not my fault. Things can be erased, revamped, brought up to marketable standards, surrounds available to those who do not avoid research. Spent the day, housecleaning, made a few sigs, a rarity for moi. Recalled how one reviewer once wrote something like .. "get" me find (?) your reviewee, Me: in the same manner of get your dog, get your horse, I thought at the time I read this a year or so past. The phrase coulda been a quick short cut for approach, contact, pick, your item to be reviewed. So, who cares? However, a disrespect fell by the wayside, especially after any authorship by the one actually doing the work, namely: the writing, plotting, editing, polishing, posting etc. If such crap enters NL, it could be edited out. It took a ton of comments, a lack of actual debate never ensued, but I never really found myself less than flabbergasted by the implication from the source, who confessed to not writing. No names supplied, never shall be, best drop. Ah, awful nasty aka terrible yet water under the bridge, me thinks. The ongoing phenomena --- horrible writing advice, honest-to-gawd, actually repeated itself several times from various directions. When, suspicions arose that this port was kinda being the brunt of whatever she says, do the opposite, because there's too much to read in traditional short story format, when story contest word counts shrunk to a mere one hundred, three hundred, five hundred, less than two thousand words --- (WE KNOW low word counts are writing exercises, present in classrooms for non-grownups, my friends) a handful of active reviewers from their side of the board grated on my last nerve. Well, trite sentences left one smitten by audacious, stingy types --- Yet, suffice among real people writing --- aka Writers (remember them, remember us & our stories, please?) how could we instigate reasons for such things? When topics slipped from original ideas being posted elsewhere OFFSITE began looking like my words were re-written @ close enough range on a website, which began here ... well, this port closed. I never thought of exposure for publication as a given by any means here. BUT, things they be a-changing. IF you came here to visit, welcome to my blog. If you came here to see what is new, I'm dusting. Author-to-author hints are now inside WRITERS WAR, closed here. AND --- I adore researching and writing that one, a non-fiction procedural take on the craft we love so well. In short, I went my own way, and that results in what is inside MY collection. Me? I write. CAULDRON TIME always follows midsummer. Few avid readers are challenged to catch up on all yours truly ever wrote, rather dating back to 2004. Thus, Cauldron Time spells Autumn nights, windy days once more. Brought back
Often, first thing one observes re: http://www.writing.com via I-net search engines informs how this site is noted for writing contests. So, welcome to all writers. Of course, those who simply tweet might actually favor writing and reading less. Things be a-changing, and hopefully readers of this blog shall become partial to affective non-constraint for the craft. I pretty much don't care for bogus writing must do-ies. Logically, they never hold up. So, we drown them out. Shame or guilt, are not my fault for these not in the loopers who prefer bloopers. Writing always changes, never remains the same, and should not be dishonored by trying to make it all sound so similar that guests & readers alike could decide not to return. Creative Writing is not just a bunch of words, my pretties, 'tis a way of life. Au revoir! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** OF: Capping low word counts/ Less to read --- easily notice, less to correct, faster to review for some. However, we are not all like this and never should accept nor condone such impossible stats via only taking a linear view for works while ignoring content. Yes, revving is popular at wc. Time to boost WRITING! |
| July threatens to close soon ... ahah! Last chance to say farewll to the month they did or did not stop LOUISIANA'S OIL LEAK ... By the end of the month, a fond "You're welcome" goes out to those who post or thank lil ole Ms Moffett for CLUB'S NL acknowledgements. Here at your home away from writing problems, this NL aims to approach novelists. Novelists in CLUB are busy as bees this summer, again making honey so it seems. A few of you wrote and announced your ken to stay the course. Therefore, as both just4him and teffom@writing.com (to name two) are once more trying novel addiction on for size here's a bit of research from msn.com RE: "Novel advice." Typing in "Novel Advice" produces over 26,000,000 hits. A favorite and highly recommended spot is Suite101.com. where much can be actually useful without diving headfirst into choppy waters of bogus/ crappola. My erstwhile author-to-author hint is to boogie on over there. Join or simply read from a pleasant, well written list of "writing articles" available online. These are well worth further discussion on our group only forum: "Invalid Item" AT: http://ezinearticles.com/?How-To-Write-Advice-On-Theme-For-Novelists&id=394865 Discover: Andrea Waggener who informs her readers: "The theme of a novel is the central 'why" of the manuscript." This brief article by Ms Waggener highlights future novelists toward: Exploring themes pertaining to plot & character or the rarity off-the-beaten track take on a style theme, # 3 on the list, evident in many works, yet not as popular. Uh oh --- thass TEFFY's novel theme. Also, please note Andrea's basis Question "Why are you telling this story? What is the point?" This page contains other links leading to ..."A short story is a project. A novel is an obsession." Working from hand written notes here. Second on point ... swim along to: http://mockingbird.creighton.edu/NCW/novel.htm Revealing: NEBRASKA CENTER FOR WRITERS floating this quote re: one's novel in progress. "It may deal with a central line of action and one or more subplots." from: Janet Burroway. A-reading & a-angling ... CLUB, working from non c&p as per usual, shorthand worthy, me. Hand me a hook topic, Skip. Fishing bobbers surface. The sea is not calm, my friends. Same source, NEB CENTER FOR WRITERS: sinking same, believe this one. Note: another novel must have: "A narrative voice as solid ad a rock." (Voice here me: POV. Now for shark bait, we all love so well: Same whirlpool: NEBRASKA CENTER FOR WRITERS pens inside: "Telling Stories/ Writing Novels" --- "The single one thing that agents and editors look for when they assess a ms is whether or not authors know how to tell a story." That quote alone sure does sink yee old crapshooter, fishing line lead of all times. Namely: show don't tell which is of course, irrelevant aka false -- (TEFF) Okay, salvaging the best for last from Suite101.com. cited in the hook paragraph above. Meet Richard Hoyt, a journalist, author of 5+ popular novels, who at one time wrote for the likes of Newsweek. Hoyt's list of article topics provides a stunning adventure in novel how to. lllllllllllllllllll SIDEBAR: llllllllllllllll Not what we may expect if overpraising wc-er think, because not enough carries reference onsite. Which is not my fault. Hell, I asked for it about a hundred times. Nah, just a Philly exaggeration. If we say to a kid, a relative, an offspring, "I tole you forty-seven times not to _____ sneak my car out of the driveway when I'm asleep ..." Or: "Hey you! You were asked nineteen times not to put your feet on the coffee table ... " The number of times simply escalates the degree of repeated warnings. See what I mean? lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll Mr. Hoyt details: "The author guides his readers from simple story to more complex stories" via "sentence, paragraph, episode, chapter." Then Richard Hoyt sums: "paragraphs become novels." THE CHALLENGE OF WRITING A NOVEL: ADVISE FOR AUTHORS FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT ... viewable @ http://writing-novels.suite101.com/article./cfm/the-challenge-of-writing-a-novel... "Do your best to set your insecurities aside and write what you think is good." Richard Hoyt -- Jan 26, 2010 Plus, sail into more tantalizing bait from Mr. Hoyt. Thank goodness he posts online. Thanks Richard! Pretty much starting to  this man and shall break soon to read on ... while we all either decide to either fish or cut bait ... out here in novel writing world. Hoyt advices: "One thing that aspiring authors need understand is that writing a novel is a solitary undertaking. Not all opinions are worthwhile. You can do it! Yes, you can!" July 2010 Inside WRITERS' WAR by Mary Moffett, one just might find a bit more on this novel writing advice. Damn straight, too much out there from the glorification of the so called "writing-advice-industry." Extra baggage at dockside becomes as mingboggling as survival in murky waters, out of depth, plenty fishy and way out of line. However, we may indeed search, research and reel in points to discuss for "Invalid Item" Thanks for reading. Cordially, TEFF PS: NEWSLETTERS WELCOME from all members. POSTS welcome @ "Invalid Item" |
| Date:5/30/10 @ 2:03pmFrom:MARY MOFFETT LORDY, LOUISIANA HI CLUB .. a few words to the wise. When Katrina was about to hit in 2005, I posted news alert re: landfall on JUNEBUGS & ELDERBERRY WINE. My main inclination's been to wait on the GULF OIL SPILL DISASTER. Then too, I don't post on wc these days anyways. April 20 is nearly forty days ago. Well, the playful sort, decide to try a wc search. BTW --- When logging in check where it says how we have umpteen members. Note the amount. Using term "OIL SPILL" in any genre .. five items come up. One carries a related title that has nothing to do with this major, first time ever geographic event, a catastrophe like no other. So, I end up writing this rev ... Review of "Oil Spill" The above item is a start at a topic reaching millions around the world for interest, coverage and debate. In short, everyone's blogging, weighing in, reading, viewing. Yes, you may be picnicing today, when all easily step away from things, this is often important to familes, friends, kin. Life in ordinary time, as it simply exists. At 12:20 pm today ... wc shows over 3,300 guests, 278 members in site's "whose online section" located at the bottom of wc's open face --- front page, the time's there as well. Nothing new there. At 12:30 pm we show 500 guests, 277 members. Members stay logged in. What am I trying to say? Nothing really, well maybe this exposure theme is a matter of subtraction. From time to time ... often call on La Voce ... to suggest we write more often, blog, rhyme, article, whatever as opposed to standard pushes for reviews. Your CLUB prez previously suggests all opts for reading offsite, in print and online where factual info exists. What came first --- the items which cannot be reviewed ... uh --- unless they came first. Therefore, we should write, not just rev. Could be folks fall out of practice without writing. No big deal, everyone's busy, some families stressed out, others all cookie cutter wonderful. Well, there is reality. At the WAVE you are most welcome to post your take on the GULF OIL SPILL CATASTROPHE any time. You may post posts, blogs, items, poetry. Used to be, I once thought writing came from the heart, an emotional side. To moi --- writing comes from major currents news and do behold this online. Or the craft runs like Stephanie Alexander pens here in her OIL SPILL documentation. Her bitem is in that review. Oh, no sooner sent the review (today) and teffom@writing.com appears in wc "testimonials" with a word from nearly five years ago. Then three of my items appear below REVIEWER ITEMS after publically posting merely one rev, within ten minutes. Why follow a black case who is not a yellow case ... often bugs me for an answer. Yeah, maybe they do like my stuff. When one feels a subject building let's just hope time for the craft soon follows. (I) Then tried to see if bloggers onsite picked up the oil fiasco/ wet land topic. Nada there as the search is non specific going by item info, not individual blogs. That's here too, blog by blog title. Alas, currently watching some CSPAN today for the re-quizzing of BP, whom I suggest pay a fine ... with JAIL TIME! An old Reading saying goes -- "You do the crime, you do the time." Similarly heard from a caller on WASHINGTON JOURNAL, said on Sunday, May 30, 2010 ... "Fine them $100 million per day!" Yeah, for ruining a part of the USA which may never fully recover. We just don't know how long and won't know for a long while to come." Oh, and my main suggestion is to get the money up front from British Petrol. LIKE NOW!!! Before this fly by night corporation goes belly up like banks who did not fold, way back in 2008. Oh, wicked, wicked world where you can't win. Fer shame. However, you view it, CLUB, you can record the happenstance, may also partake of airing views all over the place when and if you write about our brothers and sisters, our fellow Americans in the Gulf States. Whenever you tackle the non-nicey topic pertaining to a manmade disaster, surpassing all our nightmares, here in the states, you inform. Stop saying journalista. Reporter, reporting ... An annual fee to join ADC is proposed. NL editors welcome. April Sunday   Cordially, MARY MOFFETT (84) Ed note spt3/11 --- From FANDANGO UPDATES. POST/ Oct, 4, 2010 crt above --- From BP Pres O settled for $20 million. BP is still flying planes over THE GULF OF MEXICO, dropping oil defoliants. Residents are very ill, the death of seafood is there, pods are dying in the Atlantic. TONS OF PRINTED SOURCES. |
FIRST TIME ONLINE/ A SUMMER 2010 Segment of WRITERS' WAR ** SHORT STORY, OH! MY BELOVED By Mary Moffett Low and behold, mid dawn's early light yee topic twist enters a dungeon. Aisle seventy-two, mid shelf fourteen books tumble. Bright colors collide ... then pages rail with mighty cross-referencing. The only defense in play: Elderberry Wine* awaits in the ranks, a blog with articles per topic, per tie which predates WRITER WAR. On the battlefield, surmountable oppostition per word length fights ... all missed arrows, now here for the taking. There is a war on short stories. They are not all produced from inkwells of mighty gold laden marksmen. Nay, they be by all peeps, from all over the world, us ... ourselves, by writers. Authors, we can publish, be published in collections. There's an audience. They buy our books. We are not brainless, simple bondsmen, nor monks at prayer, we may rock this planet, write the best short stories. When we maintain an even keel, we can sell our wares. The publishing myths from digital re-invention of fact from fiction is not theirs to create. Thus, another publishing myth is born on electronic feeds. Yes, a growing market is ours, and it needs loosen up, include short story authors of renown. We may self publish enmasse in print. We will be paid, we will overcome this dismay. Yon publisher who thinks not to publish us, defies a need for fiction short stories created, set in these our times, in our states, in our cities, nationwide. So, here's verbal tramping with no holds barred right to kick bloody hell out of a publishing embarrassment. A dame with an edged sword dost come this very night, lads. Lassies, hoist thy pens!!! The war on writers rails aghast. Readers will buy short story collections the same as they buy novels, novellas, and read and read and read .... the best. Thus it came to pass, Wed, April 28, TWENTY-TEN! that words were outlined via experimental study experience. April, 29 online --- Today spot a James Lashnur quote from Edinburgh, where Scotland undertakes discussions aimed at upholding publication of traditional length short story medium as a true, honorable form. Scots, like moi despise flash fiction which is a bit of a caption in the British Isles. Intriguing short story key words per research mode, holding up quintessential debate material to be sure. Should you sek a mission, type "Traditional length short stories/ Scotland" for updates. An Aug, 2009 blog from TSP carries links for Pulitzer winners, anthologies showing a gainful side, an impressive myth buster: "THE BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES" routinely carries stats of "100,000 copies sold per year." Okay, pencil pen scribble --- Divide by ten ... sell short stories first at the local level, expand ... yes, best of the best accepted submissions and you're off. Now at the starting gate --- twenty from this desk. If I were gathering submissions the criteria would be: No flash. Give me some pizazz, mysteries, no sci-fic/ fantasy like elves with magical space ships, ya know? No, absolutely prohibition for dragons in outer space. Not on my watch. Realism key, geographic per fifty states ... sure ... we'll see. No telling what daring deeds Moffett Publishing dreams as decades spin, as seasons twirl in leafy enclaves of yon discontent. So, suffice ... publication houses need accept more anthologies in this form. When novices confuse style with form and have no style, they need not apply. Learn to type, fly away, thinking is plotting, try relaxation. Seek via retrieval ... fiction's georgraphical setting, regional venacular, down time r&r spells info ... your call. Meanwhile, when a writer has no style, he should not submit short stories for publication. Surely. he writes until he ... well finds his own damn style. He shuts up, bides his time. Maybe, simply discovering one's style is a tagline for WRITERS WAR, hoping this is not a limitation for some. To whom it concern: Stick with same and outline a truly honorable defense of opening up our markets, Mr Publisher Man. Yes, Mr. President O, you are in the White House, Sir. Please consider pushing print publications at our printing houses. Digital is a war zone where authors are not being paid. Help us excel in our craft and we shall no doubt applaud you and your family, excellent writers in your own right, of course. So, the Mary Moffett school of journalism contends that it is a myth that short story collections do not sell. Where I live they do sell. How about you, dear irreplaceable people on the front line? Take umbrage with me now as we ride into the willow fronds, book on knee, campfire laid low at dusk. Pillage about for blankets, read and read and read. Common sense market remark ... from a short story reader who does not write but raises twin girls on a farm land local. "I don't have time to read. I read short stories. I love them. Yes, thank you for this book." I never got the book back but can look up the title back in '97 or there abouts. Well, moving here, vacationing there, surfing ... everybody's gone surfing ... check the links, speed up ... Q & A session around the corner. Class commencing at any given moment. While you are at it, dear lovers of short stories, readers love us. Ah, geeze. So ... homework assignment. Call, me back in about ten hours, for favorites here at the house ... meanwhile ... I challenge you to read at least three short stories if you haven't read one lately. A short story is ... by definition a form of fiction or nonfiction that is shorter than a novel. Novellas defined @ 66,000 words based on Stephen King's first digital ebook ... THE SILVER BULLET. Be ready to note what you like. If you don't like something, shut up temporarily, then read two more stories, think claw-foot tub, behave. Don't write. Think. Don't try to write to me, I aint home. All right ease into thy craft. In order to write short stories you must know what they are and what they are not. If Editor Sammy Tofuto enters the Meat District along North River wishing to buy brisket, he buys brisket. He passes on the fish ... you see? * JUNEBUGS & ELDERBERRY WINE, a blog -- written exclusively by Mary Moffett, copyright March 2005 --- August, 2009 OUTLINE UP NEXT: ** WRITER'S WAR --- A researched take on a war on writing. All the while examining & presenting such a premise. |
June and Jade stand outside their first floor parlor window, when Tom who sometimes went by Whatsisname jumps up on the sill. Jade's bucket of hot water spills sideways, conveniently removing him from the two person team of window washers. Listening to June complain about the state of their windows for the last few weeks, he finally gives into wifely whims. In short, on a sunny day in April, here they are outdoors with a step ladder, brushes, stacks of newspaper, a bottle of Windex, a few pails of water strongly laced with vinegar. June's pleased by her husband's efforts. They already cleaned three sixty inch windows, removing storm windows as they systematically circumvent the house. The fact old Tom seems to show keen interest in the wash up, comes as no surprise. "Whatisname's always been the curious type," she tells Jade. Unbenownst to the couple, Tom isn't the only tabby cat nosing about their progress. Deep in high weeds, bordering the driveway, is a cat who happens to look exactly like their Tom. This female cat was dropped off about a month days ago, endured countless rainy days. This tabby almost forgets wearing pretty dresses while playing with a little girl named Catherine, whose family can no longer afford to feed her. They can't keep their house, nor feed their daughter. So, one night as often happens to felines, she's bagged in a pillow case, thrown into a car, driven far from the only home she's ever know, by the only humans she's ever cuddled upon. Jade lets Tom out of the house. The cat proceeds to run under Jane's feet each time she moves the step ladder, causing her to grab the sill in the manner of a tightrope walker. Jade heads for the shed to locate a tube of window caulking, since the goings on from their pet, reveals a few pains which he decides need a bit of strengthener against prevailing winds. Which send myriads of loose pine needles upon them as the couple makes their way beneath tall pines, tickling the daylights out of their roof and paint-less shutters. The latter attached to the brick wall for effect, actually immobile, useless against cold weather. June croons to Tom ... Here kitty, kitty .. coaxing her favorite lap sitter toward an open door of the shed. While Jade thinks their window washing chore, an annual event is generally brought on by June's cataracts, which she states cause her to no longer abide clouded windows. Primarily, they plan to undertake the first floor only. It's late morning, and first indication of a possible lunch break comes when Jade's tum growls as loud as groans from a weak branch overhead. "June, why must we be out here in a hurricane force gale? Can't we just call it a day, dear?" "Jade, we'll be to the far end of the house in a minute or two," his wife replies swiping with a squeegee, which no doubt washed many a car, since they bought the thing back in 1970. The cat in the weeds, benevolent, hungry, confused, allows herself to listen with pricked ears. It's been awhile since she heard any human contact. Voices carrying on the wind prompt her to raise up a bit from her hiding place. She watches the lady deposit another cat into smaller, metal house, a makeshift affair with a screechy aluminum door. Creaking of the door, the pines branches, impromptu conversation cause this usurper to relax in a somnolent fashion, rendering a dreamlike state of wishing to be included in this family. The way she began, as a pet, as a fond member of a family who cast her out to forge for herself. She's endured rain, late snow, captured a mouse a few days ago, with truly no idea how to continue with a weak will to survive without a soft bed pillow. Few people in the world might ever see a grown cat cry. But cry she does, this nameless little beastie. Tears wet her chin, which taste salty on her pink tongue. Her eyes grow as glassed as compliant, stable pains beneath June's Windex spray. Oh, woe is me, becomes her silent lament. Tom, to give him credit, smells the other cat, whom he knows looks exactly like himself. Black tipped tail, black stripes, a bit of a tan on the furry belly, which to Tom indicates that this visiting stray may already be in the family way. No secret there, since Tom's a night owl, apt to carouse late of a clear eve, just like teams of strays in the small woodsy copse, beyond the weedy driveway. So, what exactly can he do for the little one, whose hunger seems contagious? Hunger for love, hunger for a simple bowl of milk, which Tom would gladly pour for her highness into a pretty cracked saucer, if only June would teach him how to open the fridge. Drat, the life of feral cat. Poor thing, thinks Tom as he splits the scene, jumping straight out the cracked window pain of the silly cramped shed. Of course, he knocks over a shovel, which brings Jade back to the shed, thinking Whatsisname's hurt himself. No cat in sight. Instead, a long shovel handle barring his entrance, which he does not notice in the darkness of the shed's interior. Then he trips and is down for the count, a bucket of de-icing salt in his face. He screams for June, who quits her ladder, a fist balled into her stiff lower back. "Now what, Jade?" she demands to know. "Oh, hon," she says, finding the man sprawled on his stomach, his face filled with salt, which he's swiping out of his beard. "Now, June, about that lunch break. I've had an accident, hon. Please let's call it a day." As the sky darkens, June surrenders, "Oh, alright. It looks like more April showers anyway. Yes, come along, luv, I'll fix frozen pot pies with a small salad. You know we're under strict instructions to eat more veggies." "Sounds fantastic," Jade adds over his shoulder, quickly gathering the last of the stacked storm windows and other washing paraphernalia. As he heads toward the side of the house he thinks he may hear a cat crying. The wind takes a shammy, he's left chasing down the driveway. He reaches, the largest of the potholes there, which becomes a small pond during a storm, but immediately does a double take. Can it be? Tom somehow multiplied himself. Magic, Jade always acquaints with cats, whom he truly believes possess a secretive nine lives factor. They risk one, and have eight more to go by. Now, his eyes may be effected by the dip in the terrible, chemical laden salt, which last year killed an entire row of daffodils. So, they made due with icy sidewalks December to February past. Inside the kitchen, June readies lettuce, hauling out a bottle of French Dressing, cutting onions with tears whipping across her vision, seriously taking in newness of their sparkling kitchen windows, which she tells hereself are a clear as a bell. Jade slows his pace, searching for Tom. Now he must know with certainty what exactly the little fellow about. He creeps into the underbrush. He finds them at once, bundled together like a striped muff. Tom's cuddling another cat. Now, that's something different, thinks Jade, and he feels for the little ones. He has June, his wife of all these years. What would it be like to be lonely never really occurs to him. So, he grabs them both up and runs. The two cats are screaming to high heavens as he drops them inside the front door. Then, hurries around back, entering just as June sets out her salad, now complete with overpriced tomato slices, celery, a green pepper laid across the feast in the manner of a cross-stitch fence. June takes two pies out of the micro, asks Jade if he's seen Tom, when he did the putting away of the washing materials. "Oh, Tom? No, guess he's still out there someplace. Don't worry, he'll be along soon, I bet." "Yes, I suppose," answers June, digging in with a fork. "Whatsisname's never one to miss a meal, now, is he?" June takes a spot on the couch, picks up her knitting, which is sure to attract Tom, whose whereabouts at the moment are unknown. Then she spies him, pulling out from underneath Jade's recliner. Jade's in the shower, so she'll make sure to tell him, their Tom's gotten himself back inside. Oh what an intelligent little fellow. The cat meows, as if objecting to anything at all, for no particular reason, then comes up to rub itself against June's legs. This goes on a few minutes, as June notices her cat has a few burrs. Then she reaches for him, and that cat just goes berserk with happiness, as he jumps onto June's lap. Looking her squarely in the eyes, it begins to howl a piteous screech, rivaled only by prevailing winds, hitting the recently washed windows with a vengeance. June runs, holding the cat. "Oh, my, Tom, are you this hungry?" She places a can of catfood onto Tom's dinner plate. The twin to Tom, digs in with gusto. Tom thinks it best to share the food, not partake, although the smell of stinky store-bought catfood usually brings him out of hiding. He elects to stay put upstairs, under a bed in the guest room. Can it be true? Has, he a new pal, to lay beside, cuddle through long nights, lick and care for as if it were he himself? Thoughts of another real live cat in the house send Tom into a state of ecstasy and he promptly falls asleep. Jade comes into the kitchen, dabbing at his wet hair with a bath towel. "Oh, I see Tom's made it back." June washes dishes, pays the two of them no mind. "I think I'll comb Whatsisname after he eats." June never wonders why Tom sits on the edge of Jade's knee until bedtime. Not once. Jade simply puts on the ballgame, rubbing the cat for the rest of the day. This goes on for about three days. One morning June notes that Tom is gaining weight. Fearful, he may be eating wildlife, she directs Jade to not let him outside for a few days. "Yes, of course not. And you're right, June, he seems a bit paunchier, like me." He pats him tummy and smiles. One afternoon, Jade must go for his tax return appointment. He thinks to shut Tom into the shed. Tom escapes and forgetful of the ruse, heedless of the usurper inside, he preens on the side porch atop a wooden picnic table. June, meanwhile, unravels a few strands of wool from a striped cat's paw inside, cozy as sin, beside the fireplace. Dappled flames crisscross a shadows outside, lighting the stage for erstwhile discovery. So, there's Tom, now whom might this be? "Oh, good heavens," she says aloud. "You're too fat? You are not Tom at all. Well, I never, that sneaky Jade!" When Jade comes home, she tells him, they have a new cat who will go by Whatsername from now on. "Nice choice, dear," agrees Jade. "You know people abandon pets left and right. It truly is raining cats and dogs, these days. Out here in the burbs at least." A few weeks later, appears as if by magical conjecture, three more Whatstheirnames. Tom gladly washes kittens as they all relax in the parlor of a windswept, stormy eve. He's just too happy for words to express, smiling, purring all the time. June buys more catfood each week. Jade promises to wash more windows, but somehow time spent playing with cute striped, tabby kitties takes all his attention. And their curtain to nature, streaked windows, reveal day after day, even more pouring April rain. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
