A blog about writing, being a writer, getting inspired to write, etc. For writers, authors, would-be writers and authors. I only have 2 rules. 1, please keep everything PG rated at most, there are some younger folks who read my blog; and 2, please do not criticize what others have written. I would like this to be a safe haven for folks to explore their writing style and to gain some confidence in their story telling abilities. Nasty comments will be deleted.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
June 27th Challenge
Hi, it’s Christina –
Good morning all. I have
been so productive these past few days in everything except my writing, but it
is still a good thing. I’ve been tackling laundry, and cleaning, and grocery
shopping. I think if I can get the world around me into some sort of order, I
will be able to focus better on some creativity.
However, now that summer
is upon us, the quiet time in my house has been drastically reduced, so I think
the priority for those couple of hours will be the remaining two stories I have
agreed to edit. I need to get those off of my plate and back in the author’s
hands so they can do their re-writes.
Well, mini-quiet-time is
ticking away, so let’s get right to the challenge.
Your last challenge was:
Boy, that was stupid.
Through the years, I have been known for my lack of
coordination and for a few temporary lapses in good judgment, but in this case
I case I just had to say “Boy, that was stupid.”
It was a few days before Christmas and my daughters
and I were baking. We had made several batches of cookies, so the house was
nice and toasty warm; finally the perfect time to tackle the Christmas bread.
The bread was a persnickety beast. If it was too cool in the house, the bread
would not rise. If the milk was too warm when you dissolved the yeast, the
bread would not rise. If you kneaded it wrong or if your ingredients were off,
the bread would not rise. Did I mention, this is an old family recipe where
nothing is written down and nothing is measured?
Anyway, everything is going well and we are adding
flour into the mixture to get it the right consistency – my only variation to
the tradition is to start the dough in the Kitchen-aid - we add a big scoop of
flour, and at that very moment the dough decides it is time to solidify. The
dough hits the new scoop of flour and POOF, there is flour raining down
everywhere. Blindly I fumble to turn off the mixer. When I can get enough flour
out of my eyes to open them, I look around. Counter and everything on the
counter, stove, cabinets and floor in the corner we were working in all covered
in flour. My daughter looks like a B movie ghost and has the most horrified
expression on her face, and I just know I’m her mirror image.
I look at her and say, “Oh Lucy, we made a big
mess,” to which she replies, “huh?” so I start to explain the I Love Lucy episode to her. As I finish the
story and we are starting to giggle, my husband comes home from work. At the
sound of the door closing, my daughter and I turn in unison.
My husband briefly surveys the situation and then
replies in his best Cuban accent, “Oh Lucy, you made a BIG mess!”
My daughter and I look at each other and dissolve into
a fit of laughter.
Yup, true story.
Your Next Challenge is (compliments of my youngest):
Reality is flipped. (Her examples were: whites were discriminated
against or heterosexuality was the minority or the outcome of a war was
You have 10 minutes (be honest). There is no right
or wrong, just write. Spelling and punctuation don’t count and NO ONE is
allowed to criticize what someone else has written. Go.