SoWal Writer Group

[ronfrazer]

We've had a group meeting weekly now for a month or so. We meet each Tues at 10am at the "owner's lounge and library" at Redfish Village.

The lounge is directly above the management office on the second floor. Go up the stairs or elevator located inside the parking garage. (Walk toward the pool area and you'll see the elevators).

Bring you own coffee, tea and snacks. There's a coffee shop at Redfish.

We're a warm and friendly group so don't be intimidated; bring something to read to us if you like.

[kurt]

What type of writing? Fiction or non, any prose pros?

[ronfrazer]

At the moment there are both fiction and non-fiction. None of us are full-time writers--just people who enjoy writing. I think there's room for all skill levels; I think a beginning writer would feel welcome and encouraged by the atmosphere.

[DuneAHH]

Bump Reminder
for anyone interested in attending SoWal Writers Group...

Tuesday morning meeting (as usual) @ 10AM Redfish Village Owners Lounge & Library.

I will be sharing some of the information I learned at The Emerald Coast Writer's Conference this weekend.

[DD]

Bump Reminder
for anyone interested in attending SoWal Writers Group...

Tuesday morning meeting (as usual) @ 10AM Redfish Village Owners Lounge & Library.

I will be sharing some of the information I learned at The Emerald Coast Writer's Conference this weekend.

Dune-ahh...where you been? Writing a book or something? Don't forget us when you're famous.

[bluemtnrunner]

Ok, I need to take a shower and get dressed so I can make it over there...dang, where is my jacket with the leather patches on the elbows? It is Tuesday today, right?

[ronfrazer]

We had some fun with micro-fiction at the last meeting and read some poetry. At the next meeting we'll talk about whatever is on your mind--but you have to be there.

Here's some metaphors that thankfully none of us wrote . . .

"She had a deep, throaty laugh, like the sound a dog makes just before it throws up."
"McBride fell twelve stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup."
"Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze."
"The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her like a dog at a fire hydrant."
"He fell deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up."
"The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball doesn't."
"Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever."

See you on Tues,

Ron

[Ken Sloan]

From the Mixed Metaphors Department

Honest to God. I was once sitting in a meeting back in my corporate days discussing our need to bring some new people into the organization. My director actually said that he wanted to only bring in heavily-experienced personnel, so that . . .

". . . when they come on board, they can hit the ground running."

See y'all when I get back.

[bluemtnrunner]

I'm sorry I missed everything yesterday. I got caught up with work and kid schedules. I hope to make it next week. I need email addresses!! Can someone pm me everyone's email addresses.

[Paula]

I was there and thought it was so enjoyable. I particularly loved the idea of microfiction. Never heard of microfiction before. And I enjoyed meeting Ron and seeing Dune-AHH again. It was a wonderful way to spend a SoWal morning. I won't be back until August, but I'll definitely come to the SoWal Writer Group if it's going on then.

Also, there's a fun series of books all titled "It Was a Dark and Stormy Night that are based on a university-sponsored competition in which people write the worst opening sentence to a novel. The books, published each year, have the best entries of the year. Some of the entries are hilarious. Here the online links for some of the 2007 and 2008 results:

2007 Results
2008 Results

And here are a few of the entries:

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, not even a sharp knife, but a dull one from that set of cheap knives you received as a wedding gift in a faux wooden block; the one you told yourself you'd replace, but in the end, forgot about because your husband ran off with another man, that kind of knife.

I was in a back alley in Fiji, fighting desperately and silently for my life, fighting desperately for oxygen, clawing at the calm and almost gentle pressure of the fabric held over my face by implacable, ebony thighs when I realized -- he was killing me softly with his sarong.

"Hmm . . ." thought Abigail as she gazed languidly from the veranda past the bright white patio to the cerulean sea beyond, where dolphins played and seagulls sang, where splashing surf sounded like the tintinnabulation of a thousand tiny bells, where great gray whales bellowed and the sunlight sparkled off the myriad of sequins on the flyfish's bow ties, "time to get my meds checked."

Dorothy had reasons to be nervous: a young girl alone in a strange land, traveling with three weird, insecure males badly in need of psychiatric help; she tucked her feet under her skirt to keep the night's chill (and lewd stares) away and made sure one more time that the gun was secured in her yet-to-develop bosom.

Bill swore the affair had ended, but Louise knew he was lying, after discovering Tupperware containers under the seat of his car, which were not the off-brand containers that she bought to save money, but authentic, burpable, lidded Tupperware; and she knew he would see that woman again, because unlike the flimsy, fake containers that should always be recycled responsibly, real Tupperware must be returned to its rightful owner.

[Miss Critter]

[DuneAHH]

We had some fun with micro-fiction at the last meeting and read some poetry. At the next meeting we'll talk about whatever is on your mind--but you have to be there.

Here's some metaphors that thankfully none of us wrote . . .

"She had a deep, throaty laugh, like the sound a dog makes just before it throws up."
"McBride fell twelve stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup."
"Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze."
"The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her like a dog at a fire hydrant."
"He fell deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up."
"The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball doesn't."
"Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever."

See you on Tues,

Ron

U can say that again!

I was there and thought it was so enjoyable. I particularly loved the idea of microfiction. Never heard of microfiction before. And I enjoyed meeting Ron and seeing Dune-AHH again. It was a wonderful way to spend a SoWal morning. I won't be back until August, but I'll definitely come to the SoWal Writer Group if it's going on then.

Also, there's a fun series of books all titled "It Was a Dark and Stormy Night that are based on a university-sponsored competition in which people write the worst opening sentence to a novel. The books, published each year, have the best entries of the year. Some of the entries are hilarious. Here the online links for some of the 2007 and 2008 results:

2007 Results
2008 Results

And here are a few of the entries:

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, not even a sharp knife, but a dull one from that set of cheap knives you received as a wedding gift in a faux wooden block; the one you told yourself you'd replace, but in the end, forgot about because your husband ran off with another man, that kind of knife.

I was in a back alley in Fiji, fighting desperately and silently for my life, fighting desperately for oxygen, clawing at the calm and almost gentle pressure of the fabric held over my face by implacable, ebony thighs when I realized -- he was killing me softly with his sarong.

"Hmm . . ." thought Abigail as she gazed languidly from the veranda past the bright white patio to the cerulean sea beyond, where dolphins played and seagulls sang, where splashing surf sounded like the tintinnabulation of a thousand tiny bells, where great gray whales bellowed and the sunlight sparkled off the myriad of sequins on the flyfish's bow ties, "time to get my meds checked."

Dorothy had reasons to be nervous: a young girl alone in a strange land, traveling with three weird, insecure males badly in need of psychiatric help; she tucked her feet under her skirt to keep the night's chill (and lewd stares) away and made sure one more time that the gun was secured in her yet-to-develop bosom.

Bill swore the affair had ended, but Louise knew he was lying, after discovering Tupperware containers under the seat of his car, which were not the off-brand containers that she bought to save money, but authentic, burpable, lidded Tupperware; and she knew he would see that woman again, because unlike the flimsy, fake containers that should always be recycled responsibly, real Tupperware must be returned to its rightful owner.

Whaddaya think... could the above highlights constitute an effective microfiction??
Paula it was great having you join us!
So! Metaphors for next Tuesday
or "Whatever!"

[Paula]

I hope you had an enjoyable Writer Group session yesteray. I missed going to it because I enjoyed it so much last week. And, Dune-AHHH, that's called "Hijack microfiction" I think!

Although this could be seen by some as not at all on the same level as as microfiction, but here's a woman who uses Twitter to send full reciples to people in 140 characters or less. Not surprisingly, she lives with someone who was Twitter's lead architect. Something is going on here socially (this is quite the understatement) - in some ways wonderful, in some ways not-too-good. But I think it's interesting (it's an article from this mornings New York Times). I teach, and I wonder if I can get students to write term papers in 140 words or less (I've got it down to 6 pages, but this is really tempting - perhaps for a 140 character mid-term?). Here's the full article - very intersesting: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/22/di..._r=1&th&emc=th

"She tweets recipes.

Honeyed Tagine: brwn lb/500g yam or lamb/T oil&butter/t tumeric&ging&s+p&cinn; +c onion&carrot9m; +c broth/3T honey/9prune. Cvr~h@400F/205C.

Biscotti: mix 1/3c sug/3T oil/egg/t anise flavr; +c flour/t bkgpwdr. Roll log to fit bkgpan; pat down. 30m@375/190C. Slice~14; brwn+6m/side.

Look closely. These are awesome acts of compression. Ingredients, actions, quantities, times and temperatures — both Fahrenheit and Celsius — boiled down to utmost richness, density and clarity. A dish, a meal, a trip to deliciousness magically packed into the tiniest carry-on bag.

And she has dozens:

Kashgar Noodles: mix3.5c flour/2egg/t salt; knead+12T h2o. Cut4; roll30x10cm/12x4". Cut crosswise cm/.5". Cvr30m.Pinch+stretch dbl. Boil6m.

Saffron Asparagus Orzo: brwn c orzo/T butter/garlic; +.25t saffron&s+p/2.5c broth. Cvr@low9m; +2c asparagus3m. Fold+8T parmesan. Srv w parm.

You’ll find her at twitter.com/cookbook. “Tiny recipes condensed by @Maureen,” she writes. “Serves 3-4. Delicious ideas from all over the world.”

Both @cookbook and @Maureen are the streams of Maureen Evans, a 27-year-old from British Columbia who is studying for a master’s in creative writing at Queen’s University Belfast."

[DuneAHH]

Bump.

Continuing to meet each Tuesday 10am - approx. Noon at Redfish Village Owner's Lounge & Library.

Continuing to be free form, warm & welcoming.

[bluemtnrunner]

How can I do this remotely. I have missed several days of work due to illness in the past couple of weeks and will not be able to break free tomorrow.

[DuneAHH]

How can I do this remotely. I have missed several days of work due to illness in the past couple of weeks and will not be able to break free tomorrow.

BMR... If anybody would like to propose holding evening or weekend meetings periodically the group is open to that possibility.

[Paula]

I won't be there until August, but for the record I so enjoyed the one meeting I went to and I learned a lot about microfiction that I never had heared about and enjoyed hearing stories (microfiction) and some poetry - some by SoWallers. And it was indeed warm and welcoming.

[ronfrazer]

If you're wondering what this group is about--we're really just having fun with writing. Some of us are fairly serious; there's a few books wandering towards being ready for publishing. Others are writing poems and journals. It isn't about being good enough; it's more about sharing the joy of writing with others who love writing.

We're still meeting every Tues, 10am, at the Redfish Village Owner's Lounge which is right above the management office. You'll see the stairs and elevator in the garage behind the management office.

[shellak]

If you're wondering what this group is about--we're really just having fun with writing. Some of us are fairly serious; there's a few books wandering towards being ready for publishing. Others are writing poems and journals. It isn't about being good enough; it's more about sharing the joy of writing with others who love writing.

We're still meeting every Tues, 10am, at the Redfish Village Owner's Lounge which is right above the management office. You'll see the stairs and elevator in the garage behind the management office.

thanks for the info. i'm leaving my job this friday to stay home and write and paint, as a career. i will definitely be at your meeting next tuesday. i live about 2 minutes from redfish!!! see ya then.

[ronfrazer]

The core group is taking a little break for a few weeks. We'll post again when things start up again.

[DuneAHH]

The core group is taking a little break for a few weeks. We'll post again when things start up again.

Thanks for posting Ron.
See you in a few weeks!

[ronfrazer]

There's still a whole lotta travelin' going on. We'll get together soon.

[Ken Sloan]

When shall we three meet again?

[SRB Pete]

Wish you met Friday, Saturday or Sunday when I can be in town. Would love to get involved.

[DuneAHH]

When shall we three meet again?

I'll be "back from summer" and ready to resume by the last week of August!

[DuneAHH]

Wish you met Friday, Saturday or Sunday when I can be in town. Would love to get involved.

Are you in town / available for Friday mornings...
or do you hit town on Fridays?

[ready]

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife, not even a sharp knife, but a dull one from that set of cheap knives you received as a wedding gift in a faux wooden block; the one you told yourself you'd replace, but in the end, forgot about because your husband ran off with another man, that kind of knife.

I was in a back alley in Fiji, fighting desperately and silently for my life, fighting desperately for oxygen, clawing at the calm and almost gentle pressure of the fabric held over my face by implacable, ebony thighs when I realized -- he was killing me softly with his sarong.

"Hmm . . ." thought Abigail as she gazed languidly from the veranda past the bright white patio to the cerulean sea beyond, where dolphins played and seagulls sang, where splashing surf sounded like the tintinnabulation of a thousand tiny bells, where great gray whales bellowed and the sunlight sparkled off the myriad of sequins on the flyfish's bow ties, "time to get my meds checked."

Dorothy had reasons to be nervous: a young girl alone in a strange land, traveling with three weird, insecure males badly in need of psychiatric help; she tucked her feet under her skirt to keep the night's chill (and lewd stares) away and made sure one more time that the gun was secured in her yet-to-develop bosom.

Bill swore the affair had ended, but Louise knew he was lying, after discovering Tupperware containers under the seat of his car, which were not the off-brand containers that she bought to save money, but authentic, burpable, lidded Tupperware; and she knew he would see that woman again, because unlike the flimsy, fake containers that should always be recycled responsibly, real Tupperware must be returned to its rightful owner.

The tension was so great that I accidentally farted when I walked in the room. You could see everyone's eyes looking my way, as if I had done something they themselves had not done. I looked over in the corner and saw this cute girl that I had banged in the back of my truck, was she still mad at me for stealing her wallet?

I eased over to the table and started pouring myself a cup of juice when all of a sudden I saw it, there it was, right in front of me. I tried to whirl around and get out of the room before he saw me. Exiting by my old class mates, I excused myself and prayed I would be able to make it to my truck, but it was too late.

He grabed me from behind and started crying and asked me to give him another chance. Over and over again, he kept saying,"just give me one more chance."

Was I being unreasonable? I told him, "look you little midget bastard, the old days are over, you will just have to find another job."

Yet he pleaded with me for almost an hour, I honestly felt he had matured since the last time I saw him hanging from a pole next to the road. OK,OK, only this time do it right or I swear by every thing I hold dear to me, one more episode of you flashing crows in my field will result in your immediate termination..

He assured me he would never do this again, that is when I knew, I had finally found my perfect scare crow.

[Ken Sloan]

When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning or in rain?

[DuneLaker]

Hey, Ya"ll!! Summer is almost over. I enjoyed a thread in the forum about how to write ya'll, y'all or all ya'll or whatever. The one using quote marks was a favorite. Let us know when a gathering will occur. See you guys.