Language Killed the Story

When it comes to fiction I'm generally a cup-half-full kind of gal. Even when a story might not be right up my alley I'm usually able to find a measure of enjoyment in it and appreciate that it is probably right up someone else's. (Why does that sound vulgar?) I usually find something to applaud no matter what the content or style and very rarely have a beef with the author's choices. Even if it's not my favorite, I can concede that it might be someone else's.

I recently finished reading Prospero's Children by Jan Siegel. I found the story to be fascinating and I was very impressed with her grasp of language.



Until that grasp became so strong it was like a choke hold. My beef with this book was that Seigel clearly has the ability to write an enthralling book, but used so much muscle in the vocab department that it tipped the scale from impressive to irritating. The language and sentence composition became so ornate that I found myself wallowing through the text instead of gliding though it. Her lovely story was overshadowed by the flower in her words. Seigel is plainly talented and without doubt highly intelligent.

But, in some cases, just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Nevermind

Overly ambitious? I guess.

Contest is cancelled. Sorry to anyone who might have considered entering at the last minute. How do you pick a winner from one or two entries?

Aw, now you're just hurting my feelings.

It's only 250 words, friends.

I retract my minimum of 15 entries. I'll settle for one or two. Your chances of winning are really high. :)

I'm Back, Baby! (WRITING CONTEST)

The hiatus is over and I'm ready to party! In honor of my re-immersion into bloggerdom I'm hosting my first ever writing contest. Tantalized? Read on, my friend.

The welcoming of hoodlet number 3 into my life has made me feel somewhat introspective and I find all my writey-thoughts simmering in the non-fiction area of my brain.

In general I'm not drawn to books biographical in nature. I think that's mainly due to the fact that so many of them read like textbooks. I'm not engaged.

My favorite non-fiction book, however, is just as enjoyable to read as good fiction. It is a memoir by Haven Kimmel called A Girl Named Zippy. It's always one of the first books I recommend to someone looking for something to read. The way Miss Kimmel writes about her childhood in rural Indiana is so sly, witty and poignant. Perky.



SO - In order to generate some excitement here in Hoodie-land, clear away some cobwebs and string up some cyber-crepe paper the contest rules are as follows-

Write a flash memoir of 250 words or less. Submit your entry to hoodiewriter(at)yahoo(dot)com by midnight Thursday April 9. The content can be anything as long as you are writing from personal experience and judging will be based simply on how engaging I find it. Basically if I like it a lot, you win. Pretty scientific, huh? Entries will be posted on this blog and comments are encouraged. And since I'm all about expanding the personal library, the winner will receive a new copy of Haven Kimmel's A Girl Named Zippy. I'll also choose 2 Honorable Mentions who, sadly, won't receive a prize, but will have that warm, honorable feeling about being mentioned.

There is a catch, however - There must be at least 15 entries for there to be a winner. Also, for every additional 10 entries above the minimum I will choose an additional winner. So, 25 entries or more equals 2 winners, 35 or more will produce 3, etc. So you see, it is in your best interest to get the word out.

Oh yeah, and in honor of my sweet, new, little thing, your entry must contain in it, somewhere, the word "baby."




Contest starts NOW!

On Your Mark... Get Set..

Okay my dear friends. I've been away too long.

The hoodlet is nearly 8 weeks old and I'm itching for some interaction and some brain-exercise. So as I sit on the cusp of a full return I'm making plans for the blog. I hope to regenerate some activity and perhaps even expand my circle of associates.

Consider yourself warned.

I'll be back very soon.

Romance - The Dying Art

At least it's dead in my sphere. Not that I think it can't be revived, mind you, but, in general, as a relationship's teeth get longer the wick of the flame seems to get shorter.

Probably anyone who reads this will do so after Valentine's Day, but keeping in the spirit of romance I thought I'd share what I consider my most romantic experience. Alas, this didn't happen with my husband. He falls more on the side of sweet and considerate than the traditional romantic, which is okay by me. Though romantic isn't necessarily the first word I use to describe him getting up with the baby in the night, I'll take it over flowers and chocolate any day. I usually find most romantic overtures cheesy, but everyone needs at least one good romantic memory.

Anyway, when I was nearly 17 I had a big crush on a very good-looking boy. We seemed to have developed a nice friendship, but I wasn't really catching any signals that he wanted it to go any further than that. One evening he showed up at my house unannounced. He asked if I would go for a drive with him. This seemed an odd request seeing as how it was snowing very hard and the roads looked covered with a thick layer of white frosting. Of course any potential danger was completely outweighed by the fact that cute guy wanted me to hang out with him. I grabbed my coat.

As it turns out we didn't drive far. He took me to a middle school parking lot and asked me to get out. Umm, okay. The snow was sifting through a purple sky in giant puffy flakes. I remember being amazed at that silent purple sky. It felt like a magical place. Cute boy opened the trunk of his car to reveal a giant speaker, then he turned on a tape he'd made for the occasion, walked up to me hand outstretched and asked me to dance. I felt breathless as he put his arms around me, the cold air urging us closer. We didn't speak. We danced, his warm breath on my neck. After two songs we got back in the car. He held my hand for a moment but didn't say anything. He just looked at me. He just looked at me. And then he took me home.

I thought something would happen between us after that. When I hinted to him about that being a turning point in our relationship he gave me a very cryptic answer that hinted towards his real feelings for me but told me that, for now, friendship was all I was getting. And that's all I ever did get.

But I will never be able to hear this song or this song without seeing that beautiful purple sky.

What was your most romantic moment?

Woot!

About three years ago I decided I was ready to take a big step. I wanted to more fully pursue writing, learn more, try harder and, for the first time, share with others.

Before that time I had kept everything I'd ever written pretty close.

I wasn't quite sure where to start, but I figured I'd go online and search around a bit. I found a forum for writers that seemed pretty friendly and supportive. Unfortunately it was also pretty dead. Not a lot of action.

There was one guy on there, however, who noticed my newbieness, welcomed me and let me know about an online writing contest that was happening that week.

It was at this site called "Clarity of Night." I looked at it and found that the deadline to the contest was that evening. With shaky nerves I typed up an entry and sent it within the hour. I was nervous to know I might receive feedback from other writers, but eager for it. It was a giant step for me. I knew I was a novice writer, but I was ready to put myself out there. I wasn't growing keeping everything to myself.

I was astounded and shocked when I was awarded fourth place in that contest. I can still remember the euphoria and validation. Because of this I was confident enough to begin interacting with some of the other writers, so many of whom just floored me with their talent. I watched for an entry from the kind soul who had notified me about the contest, but he never entered.

He had, however, won the previous contest.

I followed his sinfully clever blog, commenting now and then. It was thrilling to follow his writing process as he worked on his first novel and then became published.

I'm sure you're all familiar with Jamie. He's a wrecking ball force in the blogosphere community of writers I like to think I'm a part of now. This is a big congrats to him and a "thank you" for introducing me to Jason and, subsequently, pretty much all the other writers I blog with. I finished the book yesterday and give it my most high praise. It is simply beautiful.

To those of you who have yet to read it, go to the bookstore right now. You won't regret it.