Apologies
November 27th 2006 11:53
Yes, I’m sorry. Sad and sorry. I wanted to write a great post on editing. But my mind is a total blank. Has been for a couple of days now. So today you are stuck with some drivel spawned from mental exhaustion and an empty head.
A few years ago I was in a class called “Short Story”. Yeah, go on, have a guess what it was about.
The teacher set us a task, to write a short story containing the words “I remember” at the beginning. I have never been very good at following instructions. Anyway this is the story I wrote;
In 1994 I had a heart attack. It was a strange affair. One moment I was fine and the next I was. . . well not fine.
No I didn’t clutch at my chest and fall to the ground. I did not turn green, or any other colour. But I knew.
At first I told myself the lies, but I knew what it was. Somewhere inside you just know. I ended up in the hospital, one of many that I saw the inside of over the next few months. From this first hospital I got to ride in an ambulance with the lights and siren going. Missed the whole show actually, due to being pumped full of morphine. This trip brought me to my second hospital.
Very nice people in hospitals. In the second one I met a young male nurse who spent a long time cleaning my navel while we discussed photography and old buildings. After a week they sent me home.
A month later I saw the inside of another hospital in the city where they took pictures of my heart. I suspect that photography is a past time much loved in hospitals. I would like to point out that an angiogram is much worse than open heart surgery and I only got to see one picture.
Three months later I was in yet another hospital. This time I was to be gently opened with a circular saw through the chest. The people in this hospital were very nice. The night before I was to meet the man with the saw a fellow came and said that he was there to give me a shave. It is hard to describe the joy of a body shave. I mean this left the belly button cleaner for dead in no time flat.
The next morning they wheeled me down to the theater for the big show. While I was being preped for surgery the fellow doing the work on me approached with a needle and said ‘This may sting a bit.’ It did.
The last thing I remember saying was; “If I wake up dead I’m going to be really pissed off.”
Okay, hardly great literature, I know. But that is not the point. The point is that I thought of this story when Lauren at www.travelnottour.com mentioned Synchronicity.
Synchronicity - noun: The relation that exists when things occur at the same time.
Have you spotted the point yet?
Okay, I’ll tell you. After writing our little stories, we had to read them out to the class.
I got as far as; “From this first hospital I got to ride in an ambulance with the lights and siren going.” when from the fire station across the road a fire engine took off with the siren going.
That is “Synchronicity”.
And the editing, well, if this was a murder story and I had left out the vital clue to solving the crime, such as there being a fire station next to the school, the story would be rejected.
A few years ago I was in a class called “Short Story”. Yeah, go on, have a guess what it was about.
The teacher set us a task, to write a short story containing the words “I remember” at the beginning. I have never been very good at following instructions. Anyway this is the story I wrote;
In 1994 I had a heart attack. It was a strange affair. One moment I was fine and the next I was. . . well not fine.
No I didn’t clutch at my chest and fall to the ground. I did not turn green, or any other colour. But I knew.
At first I told myself the lies, but I knew what it was. Somewhere inside you just know. I ended up in the hospital, one of many that I saw the inside of over the next few months. From this first hospital I got to ride in an ambulance with the lights and siren going. Missed the whole show actually, due to being pumped full of morphine. This trip brought me to my second hospital.
Very nice people in hospitals. In the second one I met a young male nurse who spent a long time cleaning my navel while we discussed photography and old buildings. After a week they sent me home.
A month later I saw the inside of another hospital in the city where they took pictures of my heart. I suspect that photography is a past time much loved in hospitals. I would like to point out that an angiogram is much worse than open heart surgery and I only got to see one picture.
Three months later I was in yet another hospital. This time I was to be gently opened with a circular saw through the chest. The people in this hospital were very nice. The night before I was to meet the man with the saw a fellow came and said that he was there to give me a shave. It is hard to describe the joy of a body shave. I mean this left the belly button cleaner for dead in no time flat.
The next morning they wheeled me down to the theater for the big show. While I was being preped for surgery the fellow doing the work on me approached with a needle and said ‘This may sting a bit.’ It did.
The last thing I remember saying was; “If I wake up dead I’m going to be really pissed off.”
Okay, hardly great literature, I know. But that is not the point. The point is that I thought of this story when Lauren at www.travelnottour.com mentioned Synchronicity.
Synchronicity - noun: The relation that exists when things occur at the same time.
Have you spotted the point yet?
Okay, I’ll tell you. After writing our little stories, we had to read them out to the class.
I got as far as; “From this first hospital I got to ride in an ambulance with the lights and siren going.” when from the fire station across the road a fire engine took off with the siren going.
That is “Synchronicity”.
And the editing, well, if this was a murder story and I had left out the vital clue to solving the crime, such as there being a fire station next to the school, the story would be rejected.
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Comment by LaurenD
As much as I look forward to your great post on editing, I think this post is amazing. I was captured by every word. You are an artist.
Thank you. Be well.
LaurenD
Comment by Bullamakanka
Hughie's Ziff
Bagman's Gazette
It make me feel better if I'm not truly writing drivel.
Been an artist all my life, my opinion.
Total waste of space, someone else's opinion.
BS artist, my children's opinion.
Still and all, a writer.
George
Comment by LaurenD
LaurenD
Comment by K.L. Almeroth
Motherhood
Hi my crazy Editor,
Loving this post...love the humour in it!
Classic!
Your mad writer friend,
K.L.