Dear Reader,
I am lazy today. I am lazy today because I know that tomorrow I have a number of editing projects that I'll need to complete at gun point. I think it'd be that way because I don't have the details yet. So I'm anxious. And lazy to think about writing a story.
This blog was inspired by the Julie/Julia project. Julie followed every recipe in Julia's corpulent cookbook, made a few dishes every day, and blogged about it every day. I can now appreciate the effort Julie put into her cooking/blogging project. I don't have a job that is as stressful as hers. And I don't cook. (I feel sorry for my boyfriend, but it's true. I am a lousy cook and a lazy person. Sometimes I think that makes me a lousy woman.) So given that I really can't complain about not having the time, I should be able to at least write a story a day.
I guess that's why I didn't say I would write a story a day. I said I would write something every day. Clever, ain't I?
I'm taking a break today. Oh I feel lousy. Lousy woman.
Please pick me up when I'm feeling low?
Thanks and with the warmest regards,
Ann
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Experiment 4: Random Sketch Second Try
Sunlight slanted in through the window. It swathed a little girl, who was on her knees and bending over a piece of chart paper. She twirled her long curl in her hand as she stared at her drawing. Then she pushed the end of the curl into her mouth and turned around to pick up her box of crayons.
Green. No. Blue. No. Green. Okay green.
Outside, a glass shattered. The voices stopped. The little girl looked at the closed door. A male voice mumbled something and a door in the other end of the house was slammed shut. The little girl picked up the green crayon and put it back in her box. She stood up and walked to her doll that was sitting in the corner of the room. She cradled it in her hands. "Haven't you gone to sleep yet?" she cooed to the one-eyed doll. "Come. I'll give you some food."
She reached for an imaginary cookie jar on the top of an imaginary shelf. The shelf was so high she had to stand on her toes to reach it. She held her doll carefully, not wanting to drop it while she opened the jar and took out two imaginary cookies.
"Here. Eat," said she gently, moving its blond hair away from its face. She put one imaginary cookie in the doll's hand and the other in its mouth.
The door on the other end of the house was being banged at. Finally, there was a click. Someone had come out.
(To be continued)
Green. No. Blue. No. Green. Okay green.
Outside, a glass shattered. The voices stopped. The little girl looked at the closed door. A male voice mumbled something and a door in the other end of the house was slammed shut. The little girl picked up the green crayon and put it back in her box. She stood up and walked to her doll that was sitting in the corner of the room. She cradled it in her hands. "Haven't you gone to sleep yet?" she cooed to the one-eyed doll. "Come. I'll give you some food."
She reached for an imaginary cookie jar on the top of an imaginary shelf. The shelf was so high she had to stand on her toes to reach it. She held her doll carefully, not wanting to drop it while she opened the jar and took out two imaginary cookies.
"Here. Eat," said she gently, moving its blond hair away from its face. She put one imaginary cookie in the doll's hand and the other in its mouth.
The door on the other end of the house was being banged at. Finally, there was a click. Someone had come out.
(To be continued)
I Sent Out a Story Today
Dear Reader,
I ripped out the moral at the end and sent the Laddu story out to a children's magazine today. I am fairly sure it will be rejected. It has nothing special to teach; it's just a little story. But well it's a start. I'll try and come up with something a little more interesting and informative for children. Then I'll shoot it to the same magazine. Let's see how that plays out.
I kind of liked my experiment of yesterday. But the only problem is I've never been in a shootout nor have I ever been a teacher. So I'm going to have to do a lot of work to be able to take the story forward. Maybe I'll use the same setting but change the story and the character. That might work.
I'm too tired to write anything on a Monday evening. I decided to do my writing the first thing every morning. I'll go to the office early and before the others start coming in, I'll write. It would be a good way to start the day. Because, you know what, I enjoy this very much.
Please stay with me.
With love,
Ann
I ripped out the moral at the end and sent the Laddu story out to a children's magazine today. I am fairly sure it will be rejected. It has nothing special to teach; it's just a little story. But well it's a start. I'll try and come up with something a little more interesting and informative for children. Then I'll shoot it to the same magazine. Let's see how that plays out.
I kind of liked my experiment of yesterday. But the only problem is I've never been in a shootout nor have I ever been a teacher. So I'm going to have to do a lot of work to be able to take the story forward. Maybe I'll use the same setting but change the story and the character. That might work.
I'm too tired to write anything on a Monday evening. I decided to do my writing the first thing every morning. I'll go to the office early and before the others start coming in, I'll write. It would be a good way to start the day. Because, you know what, I enjoy this very much.
Please stay with me.
With love,
Ann
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Experiment 3: Random Sketch
Sunlight slanted in through the window over the bookshelf. In its focus sat a very tall and lean lady. She sat, her back straight, as though she were playing a piano. But she was reading the script of a play her student had written. It was a play about a shootout at the school. It was a true account. She knew everything about it. She was there, a witness to the gruesome murder of three students and a security guard. They were shot at by their deranged school principal. It had been a horrible shock.
She let out a deep sigh as she pushed the sheets back into the folder. She rested her back against the chair, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes. It was a long time ago.
It was the year 1984, the year when Nina and her friends got their first jobs. The year they marched into adulthood, excited about their paychecks and their dreams...
(To be continued)
She let out a deep sigh as she pushed the sheets back into the folder. She rested her back against the chair, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes. It was a long time ago.
It was the year 1984, the year when Nina and her friends got their first jobs. The year they marched into adulthood, excited about their paychecks and their dreams...
(To be continued)
Flat, Flat, Flat!
Dear Reader,
I'm not sure if the previous experiment worked out at all. The story kept changing as I wrote it. I began with something completely different in my mind. It was going to end with a jabbering woman accidentally picking up a rat from a plate of pastries on the table.She was about to put it in her mouth, when she noticed two frightened eyes staring back at her. The moral of the story was going to be: Watch what you eat or it will watch you.
No rat I know would wait long enough to be caught by a human hand. Ants don't scurry away like rats do, so I decided to use a big red ant instead. I've never seen an ant looking at me, like I imagined the rat would look at the woman, sort of like an animated big-eyed Jerry, so I dropped the "it will watch you" at the end. To make the story plausible, I used a big red ant, a laddu, and a greedy girl. I wanted to make the moral funny like Thurber's "Watch your boobies before they hatch!" But honestly, I didn't laugh out loud at "Watch what you eat," which was intended to be a clever pun.
In any case, even though I didn't like the story, I had fun writing it. It's certainly not a story that I would remember if someone else had written it. Some stories have that effect. A man would walk out of a building and you would think that he was just like the man in the story you read ten years ago. In comparison, this laddu story was flat. But at least it was a story and the point of this blog was to write, just about anything.
I have a bad attack of allergy today. I am not sure if I want to work too hard on another story. But to keep this going, I'm going to see if I can come up with something.
Lots of love,
Ann
I'm not sure if the previous experiment worked out at all. The story kept changing as I wrote it. I began with something completely different in my mind. It was going to end with a jabbering woman accidentally picking up a rat from a plate of pastries on the table.She was about to put it in her mouth, when she noticed two frightened eyes staring back at her. The moral of the story was going to be: Watch what you eat or it will watch you.
No rat I know would wait long enough to be caught by a human hand. Ants don't scurry away like rats do, so I decided to use a big red ant instead. I've never seen an ant looking at me, like I imagined the rat would look at the woman, sort of like an animated big-eyed Jerry, so I dropped the "it will watch you" at the end. To make the story plausible, I used a big red ant, a laddu, and a greedy girl. I wanted to make the moral funny like Thurber's "Watch your boobies before they hatch!" But honestly, I didn't laugh out loud at "Watch what you eat," which was intended to be a clever pun.
In any case, even though I didn't like the story, I had fun writing it. It's certainly not a story that I would remember if someone else had written it. Some stories have that effect. A man would walk out of a building and you would think that he was just like the man in the story you read ten years ago. In comparison, this laddu story was flat. But at least it was a story and the point of this blog was to write, just about anything.
I have a bad attack of allergy today. I am not sure if I want to work too hard on another story. But to keep this going, I'm going to see if I can come up with something.
Lots of love,
Ann
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Experiment 2: Fable
THE LADDU STORE
"What funnnnnnnn!" squealed Maria as she ran into the dim room that smelt of sweet laddus.
Seema, Bunty, Anaina, and Rimi were scooping the sweet mixture from the baskets and rolling them into little balls, which they placed neatly and deftly onto a large plate. They smiled brightly as Maria joined them.
"Sweet heaven," she sighed, rolling her first round laddu. "And to think you do this every day..."
The other kids lived in that village and helped the old man and the old lady at the laddu store. The old lady made the sweet mixture in the kitchen at the back. The children rolled them into laddus in the small room adjoining the kitchen. The kid closest to the door carried the loaded plate to the front, where the old man sat to sell the laddus. Everybody in the village came to this store to buy laddus every day. On festival days, there was a great demand for laddus, which meant the six of them had to work very, very hard.
It was a festival day today. There was a line of people with baskets or bags waiting to buy laddus. Maria had come with her mother to the store to buy laddus too. It was the second time that Maria had come to the village. She had met the laddu store kids on her last visit, and became such good friends by the end of it. They promised her that she could roll laddus with them the next time she came. So when Maria stood in the queue, she remembered the promise. The smell of the fresh laddus got the better of her and she ran to the room where the kids were rolling the laddus. Her mother didn't have a chance to hold her back. The old man smiled at her and asked her not to worry.
"Do you ever eat them?" Maria whispered to Rimi, who was standing next to her.
"Oh no! Not when we are working! We can't afford to run short, especially on a festival day."
"I see," said Maria disappointed. They were such good, fresh laddus.
"But the old lady and the old man are very generous. They let us take home the leftovers. You know we always begin the day making fresh laddus. Nothing from the previous day is sold."
"You don't go to school?" asked Maria.
"We do. In the afternoons after work."
Bunty ran with the loaded plate to the front and placed it on the table in front of the old man. Then he pulled an empty plate from the rack and ran back in.
While the other kids got ready to position the large plate properly, Maria quickly took some of the mixture and put it into her mouth. It was delicious!
The kids went back to work. Scooping and rolling and placing. Maria moved to the far end of the room, where it was darker.
"I like to lean against the wall while I work," she explained when the other kids glanced at her. She continued to work, all the time waiting for a chance to put a whole ball into her mouth.
"We've run out!" the old man shouted. "Hurry up, children!"
"Oh quickly. Take this plate to the front, Bunty. There's enough on it. Get another!" said Rimi. The kids shuffled around to fill in some last-minute balls.
This was her chance, thought Maria. Her eyes still on the kids, she quickly tossed a laddu into her mouth. And just at once...
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Maria got stung on the upper lip by a big red ant. The ant was one of a line of ants on the wall against which Maria was leaning.
Moral: Watch what you eat.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thurber's So Funny!
Dear Reader,
I'm still laughing my gut out after reading James Thurber's hilarious fable, "The Unicorn in the Garden." It goes something like this:
One night, the husband spotted a unicorn in the garden through the bedroom window. He woke his wife up and told her that there was a unicorn in the garden. The wife opened an eye and growled, "The unicorn is a mythical beast."
So the husband went down to check whether it was indeed a unicorn. Sure it was one, with a golden horn right in the middle of its forehead! He ran upstairs to wake his wife up and give her the news. She looked at him coldly and told him not to be such a booby, or she'd just have him put in a booby-hatch. Now "booby" and "booby-hatch" were two words he could never stand. So he went back into the garden, offered a lily to the unicorn, and fell asleep watching the magnificent creature chew on it.
The next morning, his wife woke up with eyes sparkling with an idea. She rung up the police and the psychiatrist. They came in shortly and the wife sat at the edge of her seat and began to tell them the story of how her husband saw a unicorn in the garden. The policeman and the psychiatrist looked at each other. They asked the husband who had just then walked into the house if he had seen a unicorn.
"Of course not!" he said. "The unicorn is a mythical beast."
Then in a flash, they grabbed the wife, straitjacketed her, and drove her off to an institution. And there she remained for the rest of her life. As for the husband, he lived happily ever after.
Here's the moral that Thurber has placed below his story: Never count your boobies until they hatch.
Dear reader, this gives me a juicy idea for my next experiment!
With love,
Ann
I'm still laughing my gut out after reading James Thurber's hilarious fable, "The Unicorn in the Garden." It goes something like this:
One night, the husband spotted a unicorn in the garden through the bedroom window. He woke his wife up and told her that there was a unicorn in the garden. The wife opened an eye and growled, "The unicorn is a mythical beast."
So the husband went down to check whether it was indeed a unicorn. Sure it was one, with a golden horn right in the middle of its forehead! He ran upstairs to wake his wife up and give her the news. She looked at him coldly and told him not to be such a booby, or she'd just have him put in a booby-hatch. Now "booby" and "booby-hatch" were two words he could never stand. So he went back into the garden, offered a lily to the unicorn, and fell asleep watching the magnificent creature chew on it.
The next morning, his wife woke up with eyes sparkling with an idea. She rung up the police and the psychiatrist. They came in shortly and the wife sat at the edge of her seat and began to tell them the story of how her husband saw a unicorn in the garden. The policeman and the psychiatrist looked at each other. They asked the husband who had just then walked into the house if he had seen a unicorn.
"Of course not!" he said. "The unicorn is a mythical beast."
Then in a flash, they grabbed the wife, straitjacketed her, and drove her off to an institution. And there she remained for the rest of her life. As for the husband, he lived happily ever after.
Here's the moral that Thurber has placed below his story: Never count your boobies until they hatch.
Dear reader, this gives me a juicy idea for my next experiment!
With love,
Ann
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