High Fliers

High Fliers

Writing Life

After the first writer’s meeting at the library, I couldn’t wait to get to the next one, which was a month away. That date came last night. I had asked my friend, Latisha, and a couple of other people from church to come. I picked up Latisha, our high school senior, who will soon be in the Air Force, but the others didn’t make it. I hope they will next time. If they do, I’ll tell you.

At the meeting in one of our library’s two big rooms, five people sat in a circle with a few chairs between them. Rebekah Lyn was there, looking sleek and professional in her black suit and heels. Lily the facilitator cleared her throat and launched the second meeting.

She handed out sheets on characterization. I just love those. I folded mine and put in the big purse, with many compartments, I bought at the thrift store so I could carry all my toys—more about that another time.

Did you ever notice how invigorating and inspiring a meeting with other writers could be? I’m just full of it this morning.

Anyhow, our prompt for 500-word writing was the name of a certain horror writer known as the most successful writer of our times, I will call him Mr. Most Successful, I didn’t want to have anything to do with writing about horror, but I decided to write my thoughts on it.

Only one person beside me had been at the last meeting. The facilitator had written something like Mr. Most Successful writes, but not in a scary way, and two others had received the prompt from the reference desk. The facilitator’s thumb drive with her story on it was in another town, so she didn’t get to read. She had me read first, then Van, and then Josephine read about being rescued from a Mr. Most-Successful-like horror dream by the loving arms and presence of God. It was wonderful. Even though it sounded like a fantasy, it was a true story.

Van’s piece was about profanity in writing and he used Mr. Most Successful as an example. Mine, well, maybe I’ll send it to you via Writing Life.

Anyhow, everyone seemed happy with all the writings. We who had read were petted and praised and we all felt good about ourselves until the pencil point let the air out of our bubbles. Ssssssssssssss . Once more, Lily said how talented we were. She then told Van and I we had written op-ed type pieces, which were not in the genre she intended. Lily said Josephine’s piece was perfect for what she wanted. I didn’t blame Josephine, but boiled, I fumed, I cried inside. I asked God if I should defend myself. I suppose it was pure ego, but I did speak up. “Van and I did write about Mr. Most Successful,” I told her. I like Lily, she’s a great facilitator, and I don’t want you mad at her. I’m not.

“Yes, but I meant you were to write in the same vein as he does. Don’t feel bad, others didn’t understand after the meeting either.” said Lily

Latisha spoke then. She said she had wasted a whole Christmas vacation reading one of Mr. Most Successful’s horror stories, a thick one. She also gave a negative review on his popular T V series. Thank you Latisha.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I thought that maybe I should try to write a fantasy of some sort. Come to think of it…at dinner that evening, Bill and I had been discussing a launch of the Atlas that woke us from our naps the day before. To make him laugh I began to tell him a fantasy story about a launch. You see there was this manned spacecraft that landed on.

That’s all for now folks. Send ideas!


Now it's your turn. Tell us what you think.

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