“I spent all day putting a comma in, and all afternoon taking it out.” © Oscar Wilde.
This quote above is the perfect definition of “a writers’ curse of self-editing”.
A Short Introduction About My Scribbling
One of the things I like to do is write ~ and I do not mean “write” for the sake of writing letters or calligraphy. I mean I like to write creative stories. It would be a privilege if someone called me an Author, but I have to publish something first ~ besides on this Blog. I’m not there yet. I have little to no experience with creative writing; although, I believe I genetically have the gift to do it. OH…and it does run in my family after all. My mother was a writer, but never had the opportunity to publish her story before her passing. AND, my niece has quite a few self-published novels out there that I hear are quite good! The only problem is ~~~ I can’t read them. I’ve been notified of the many racy scenes within all of her books. <cringe> Come on’ guys ~ this is my NIECE!…I just can’t read them. Could you? LOL! I am honored however to share her Facebook page, under her pen name, on my Blog below if you happen to be the inquisitive type.
Creative writing is simply difficult ~ and rewarding, and I’m so appreciate of the perplexity in finding alternate ways to express and tell a story with words! WORDS! TERMS! NAMES! SLOGANS! AFFIRMATIONS! It’s like an algebraic equation confuzzled in my head that spits inself onto the screen into one long breathtakingly short word at a time. I also like to make up words ~ in case you didn’t just notice.
I don’t have quite the formal education I need in English Composition. BUT awhile ago I figured it out, on my own, that the hardest part of it all is just getting the pen to the paper anyway. And that I can do. So then I passed-up returning to college to get a second degree. Another one, but this time it would’ve been in English Comp as said above. And hey, isn’t that what very well intending Grammar Nazi’s willing to be helpful in constructive criticism are for? Instead of getting a degree in English I mean?
Them……and a professional editor.
My goal is to write a self-published Novella. I know I can do this; therefore, it will happen someday. This will be added to my “Wander-List” eventually ~ but for now I’ll only be posting samples from things I’ve written here.
Scribbler Entry #1 Hurricane Eloise, (which is non-professionally edited; but self-edited, with an indefinite amount of attempts in doing so).
This is a true memory of mine, as a 7-year-old in 1975, experiencing the plight of my first hurricane while living in New Orleans, LA with my family. As you are reading this, listen to how Category 3 Hurricane sounds…YES, I really meant it. For you to listen as you read the words to my first scribbler below.
“She didn’t sleep well from the night before because the howling winds from the looming hurricane kept her up mostly. She was quite frightened. She slept in her own bed hidden under her covers all night so she wouldn’t see the spiny shadows from the blowing tree branches circling around in her room. By early afternoon she got out of her bed just to move to the front room for a change in scenery. The rains had subsided somewhat by then; but there were still swift swirling brisk winds that made the whole house shudder with their forced entry through every seam in the house. As she stood in front of the picture window she observed these winds with her blanket clutched in one hand and her stuffed baby lamb toy in the other. The tree branches close to the house pitched sharply and the leaves on them fluttered horizontally with each gust of wind. Then distinctly out of nowhere she heard voices coming from the other room. She had only heard the winds hissing at her up until that very moment.”
© Kristin McCallum
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A DEPARTMENT OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
Scribbler Entry #2 The Red Ants, (which is non-professionally edited; but self-edited, with an indefinite amount of attempts in doing so).
This is another short sample ~ an excerpt from stories I had written about our time in New Orleans. This is also a true story about my first confrontation with fire-ants ~ 1975.
“She snagged her foot on a broken jagged metal hook, from the boat trailer they were playing on, as she tumbled to the stone pathway below. Andy fell onto her, just after he smacked her from behind, from that strong gust of wind. He did not get hurt as she narrowly broke his fall. Impressively he was able to escape the vile red ants nearby as if they were the plaque and not to be messed with. He knew what to do. He darted towards his house hurriedly as he heard his mother’s worried cries for him to come back home. Just then Krissie noticed blood from her foot dripping down onto an anthill beside her. This pissed the ants off. A flurry of them came scurrying out of a tiny hole from the top of their mound and up her leg in braided formation and into her cuts biting her with a vengeance. She had never seen ants do this before but she knew these were fire ants, because she had heard of them there before—BUT she had only just heard of them up until then. She wept as she was swatting violently at the fire ants desperately trying to get them off of her. This was her first confrontation with the nasty little beasts. She felt sorry for herself and desperately wanted sympathy—but she knew she wouldn’t get any, at least not right then. She wasn’t allowed to be outside in the first place. There was a big storm expected. Hurricane Eloise was already showing signs that she was drawing near.
© Kristin McCallum