Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Like a red cape in a bullring

Technically, from what I've observed by my singular in-person viewing of bull fights, the capes don't really have to be red. They need to be waving. Or just in the actual ring. The bull will run at no matter what the color, particularly if a man is holding it. And if all bullfights run similarly to the ones I saw, at the end, the bull makes a break for it and rampages for a while in the town. But that might not be how they all work. I'm not really sure.

Anyway, so...I went to the monthly meeting of American Christian Writers across the street yesterday. It was my second meeting. The subject was ghost writing which isn't quite as interesting to me as writing with humor (the first meeting's topic) but then they announced a writing contest. And now I'm all about writing something to win. Wave the flier with places and prizes listed and I'm ready to go. Anybody remember the photography contest from a couple of years ago? I think this will be like that...a smaller pool of entries makes me think I have a shot so now I'm all about entering.

I can already come up with ideas for Contest 1, the non-fiction one (although they sorta sound like fiction because the whole bull fighting thing did really happen but it so sounds like it shouldn't have and the other one I was thinking about was the time I showered with a lizard. Oddly enough, I think I can make both inspirational. Yesterday someone told me I have a "unique" talent. Is that like having an "interesting" hair cut?) but the other two are a little more challenging. I'm thinking I'll post a couple around here or the other blog and get feedback. But I'm only thinking about it. I don't really enjoy criticism, constructive or otherwise.

I do enjoy winning.

The other thing we did at the meeting: a timed writing exercise using one of 7 scenarios. Mine: A 3rd grader on the first day of school trying very hard not to talk in class. Assignment: assume a different personality and write in the first person Time: 10-15 minutes.

Here's what I came up with:
My 3rd grade year began with a flight, an episode that could have turned out so many very different ways for those were the days when imagination reigned and rules...well, those were for ancient birds like the teacher, Ms. Shaw. On that day, I very correctly sat in my seat with my books aligned perfectly, and then she, with a very stern look on her face, came to perch directly in front of me.

"No talking! That is the rule in my class. You will behave like ladies and gentlemen in my class or you be in Very. Serious. Trouble." And then she clucked and nodded for punctuation.

I looked up at her as she spoke, her head so high above that I had to crane my neck to see over the flapping finger and wagging jaw. And really, Ms. Shaw looked like an ancient bird, beak clicking as she continued to list the rules. And that is all it took.

Silent I can be when there are more important things to do, things like imagining Ms Shaw taking flight, her long fluttery wings lifting her up and away to soar around the classroom as she squawked, "No talking! No talking! No talking!" before flying right out the window.

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