Attended the funeral of a fellow writer's father yesterday. One of the eulogists said, "I didn't get around to asking him about that; I really, really regret it."  His words nudged me to make a point to talk to my own parents more often. But I'm not one to regret what I've done or haven't done in life. I truly believe that when it comes to Life, it is what it is, no regrets.
However--you knew that was coming, didn't you--is there a story you have in your head or your heart that you'd regret NOT telling? Is there something that's been on your mind, a title to a story unwritten, a plot unformed, a poetic form untried that you've always meant to tackle, but haven't?
I think you can follow my thoughts here. What burning story--real or fictional--do you have that you desperately need to share? In the comment section, tell us about it.
For me, I've written parts of my fictional story last year during November as I was working on NaNoWriMo and I posted most of my vingnettes here on Gather. That's a story of mine that really excites me. It's in a voice that's hardly ever been heard in American literature. And it's a topic that has not seen much print in the 70+ years since it happened.
I'm being evasive about the content, but here's one of the introductory posts, if you are curious. I've decided to revive that middle-grade novel again and keep at it for at least six months. It'll be hard to set aside my poetic endeavors, in fact, I can't. I still will be pitching and writing poetry as well as hosting Open Mics and teaching. But my main thrust will be on my novel.
I find longer work much more difficult because well, it takes longer! With a poem, even ones that spend months in revision, they still have an end. But these novels seem to take a trip along the River of Glue before typing The End.
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 Prompts last week were fun with a little history tossed in as well as a curious prompt of using the phrase one, two, three. Look and see how others handled it.
September 22 by Sheila Deeth (featured)
Same Old Trap by Dee Dee Prince (featured)
September 23rd and Sanity by Bill's Spirit (featured)
Event of September 28, 1960, One I Remember Well by Elsie Duggan
My Day 9/26/10 by Abbie H.
Nine Months Before I was Born... by Susan Budig
Submissions to gwwe of previous weeks
untitled - Roman a clef prompt by Angela A.
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Prompts for September 29, 2010
- Use the phrase: That's a bald-faced lie!
- Someone needs to sit at a table or bar and consume something
- Don't leave us hanging, write a clear denouement at the end
- Include a ring of any sort whatsoever in your submission
- publish by October 5 for inclusion in next week's column
- tag with gwwe
Learn to listen. Opportunity sometimes knocks very softly. --H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
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Comments: 37
Thanks for reading and commenting, Nancy.
I thought this prompt lent itself to over-the-top silliness. :-)
The submissions will be interesting as always.
Get that first story published and let the publisher know that you're not a flash-in-the-pan, but a serious writer who has more material developed.
;-)
I love that about non-fiction, but I find fiction, poetry, essay all take research. At least mine do.
How my sister died at age 43 with dreams unrealized. She didn't have time to make any of them come true. I say, Sir Richard, don't let that happen to you.
Said with friendship and love...
Abbie, if you feel, as the author, that it's broader than a children's book, then take that stand. Publishers are always looking for something new and unique to sell. You might be on the cusp of something BIG. :-)
As I sat on the river bank and watched the flames engulf the body, I went down the memory lane and reminiscenced my association with my late father since my childhood. After a couple of hours all that remained was ash. I began to wonder why do people kill, steal, fight for attaining material benefits, when eventually everybody is going to become ash and be blown away to anonymity.
Maybe, to lengthen it, think about the pacing, adding details to draw out the two hour wait as your late father's body finished turning into ashes.
What you've written deserves its own post.
Swallowing a ring while eating, sitting at a bar, then yelling at the ring's owner, who is accusing me: That's a bald-faced lie!
Two AM, no one in the bar, just you and me.
Don't you want your ring back?
The only reason I've put if off is because it's a story that is not fully formed yet. Because I'm not sure if it will be a series or one book.
I'm leaning toward a possible series though, if I can hack it, so to speak.
Marriageontherocks