I would be remiss if I didn’t take a minute today to say goodbye to a friend. An entity really. If you’ve been reading ODNT for a while, you might remember the Trifecta writing challenges I used to participate in pretty regularly. Long story short, Trifecta is an obsessed-with-all-things-in-threes website run by a handful of literary aficionados in the hopes of inspiring ambitious, fledgling writers.
And inspire it did.
I’ve never seen a writing link-up with a larger, more constant and fiercely loyal following. There, I was introduced to scores of great people including (yep, you guessed it) my friend and frequent writing partner, Mel at AccordingToMags.com. Additionally, Trifecta also prompted me to write several slices of flash fiction of which I’m especially proud. Among them …
And Waterproof, a 333-word clip of a longer novel that I’ve been working on (when life permits) for a while now
Oh, and if you’re looking for a new link-up…
Check out KetchupWithUs!
Hosted by fellow Trifectan Mel and myself on the 1st and 15th of every month, KetchupWithUs is always flexible and always fun. Stop by when you can. One of our link-ups might just be live right now.
So thanks for the inspiration and the great company, Trifecta. I wish you guys good luck in whatever your future endeavors may be. And now, while you ride off into the sunset, I’m going to play you out with one of the biggest closing themes of all time. In the (36, so close to your beloved 33) words of Carol Burnett …
I’m so glad we had this time together Just to have a laugh, or sing a song Seems we just get started and before you know it Comes the time we have to say “So long”
Yes, that’s right. Just one year ago today, I wrote a blog post …
… then sweated buckets about it, sent proofs to half a dozen people, second guessed myself, ate a pound of cheese and drank a bottle of wine contemplating it, considered scrapping the whole thing, third guessed myself, cried quietly, berated myself in front of the mirror …
… and hit publish.
It’s been a very interesting first year. CLICK ON THE IMAGE BELOW to see just a few of the highlights in my scrapbook.
If you’re interested in reading some of the stories in this scrapbook, I’ve included the links for you at the end of this post. Because I understand lazy. And I know I would NEVER bother to look them up on my own. And I’m assuming that, if you read this blog, you’re probably lazy like me. So I did your heavy lifting for you today.
Thanks to all of you for riding shotgun with me the past year. Here’s to year number two!
The Posts that Inspired ‘Things You Read About on ODNT (2011-12)’
Thanks, Trifecta, for the 3rd place nod in your regular contest this past week. I had so much fun writing Waterproofthat I just might actually expand on it a bit. (See! That’s the good thing you do for people like me, Trifecta.)
But now it’s time for the Trifextra Weekend Challenge. Here are this weekend’s rules: Entrants must write a horror story in 33 words exactly, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun or kill. Currently, I’m playing with a few ideas.
Oh, look! Here comes one now …
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Trifextra Entry – Clueless
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“Wait! Miss Scarlett … with a rope … in the conservator—“
She lunged and tightened the rope around his neck until he slumped to the floor.
Dear Reader, I’m reposting this short piece in the hopes of reminding myself that it needs finishing. I’ve actually already begun working on continuing the story and have high hopes of seeing it to fruition in the “not-so-distant” future. I would love your feedback. Thanks.
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Following is my entry for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge. As is usually the case, I went with the first idea that popped into my threadbare brain. RULES: All entries must be between 33 and 333 words and need to include the following word using its third definition:
I live in a town called Waterproof. Yes, I know it’s a strange name. It’s supposed to mean we’re protected from floodwaters and, around these parts, that’s a good thing. So nobody ever dared to change it.
Waterproof is right on the Louisiana-Mississippi border so it’s no surprise that we’re one of the poorest cities in the state. The last time anybody checked, the average income for a family around here was about $15,000, and that’s usually supposed to take care of three or four people. More than half of us live below the poverty line. And I say “us” because Daddy and I are probably scraping the bottom of that bowl.
We’re also one of the smallest cities in the state. The sign on the highway says we have 693 people living here, but it’s wrong. At least, I know it’s wrong by three. My best friend, Josie, her mother and her little brother, Dewey, moved away last year when Miss Eileen got that job offer in Tuscaloosa. She said she just couldn’t pass up a chance to move her family to a big city with good schools and restaurants and more than one supermarket.
All I know is that it’s 300 miles away, according to Daddy. And that means no visits, just letters. But I have to sneak the stamps. Daddy says stamp prices are so high that you can only mail two letters for a dollar these days. He says when he was my age he could mail six letters for that same dollar and still have a dime in his pocket for bubble gum.
He’s always looking for ways to stretch his pay. I remember eating potatoes for dinner a whole week once because it’s how he got paid that time. He says the only things you shouldn’t scrimp on are shoes and tires. Daddy says you don’t want anything too cheap coming between you and the road. He says every man deserves at least that.
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My first real job after college was in Louisiana Tourism. I got to see a lot of small towns in the state with which I would not otherwise even be familiar. And my salary for that job was below the one quoted in this story.