Desk
Monday, September 8, 2008
Interesting Writing Contest
Here is a contest that would be fun to enter next year –
“A grotesque comparison of a steamy love affair to a New York City street has won a Washington man this year’s grand prize in an annual contest of bad writing.
Garrison Spik, a 41-year-old communications director and writer, took top honors in San Jose State University’s 26th annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest with this opening sentence to a nonexistent novel:
“Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped ‘Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J.”’
The contest is named after Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, whose 1830 novel “Paul Clifford” famously begins “It was a dark and stormy night.”
Don’t Miss
Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest
Entrants are asked to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. Awards are given for many categories, including awards for “purple prose” and “vile puns.” The top winner receives a $250 prize.
Other noteworthy submissions:
”’Toads of glory, slugs of joy,’ sang Groin the dwarf as he trotted jovially down the path before a great dragon ate him because the author knew that this story was a train wreck after he typed the first few words.”
— Alex Hall, Greeley, Colorado
“Like a mechanic who forgets to wipe his hands on a shop rag and then goes home, hugs his wife, and gets a grease stain on her favorite sweater — love touches you, and marks you forever.”
— Beth Fand Incollingo, Haddon Heights, New Jersey ”*
this whole article was taken from an AP story published on CNN.com
Bay Area Writers League
Lots of enthusiasm about BAWL. Lots of exciting things coming up. We need lots of volunteers for all the ideas we have. Hope to have a list of all the areas for volunteering at the end of this week.
Join us.
http://www.bawl.org/
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© Copyright 2007, Becky Ellisor she@beckyellisor.com A Talentcase site by WireMedia
Labels: Contests
# posted by she @ 7:31 AM 0 Comments
Friday, July 4, 2008
My next last night with Elektra
We have just about finished moving Eektra’s office into her basement so she has a place to work that is not on the same level with her apartment. She works for one of those new techie companies where everyone works from home. She loves it: but it is hard to leave work when your desk is in your bedroom. I will be coming home the day after tomorrow.
I found a poetry reading to go to in the city tonight, at a place called Bar 13. You had to pay $7 to read a poem. Sorry, but not worth it. I had expected to be impressed but was not. I will say that almost everyone was under 30 so the place reeked with angst and war and unrequited love. The same things we talked about in my generation.
But also there was ranting which I will not count as poetry. It does no one any good, especially the writer. Is ranting even writing? Poetry teaches, soothes, informs, makes one think and ultimately gives both the writer and the reader something powerful to think about. I write political poems and protest poems, but I do not put down anyone, I don’t write in the negative and I won’t listen to negative.
So, I embarrassed my daughter by leaving in protest during the middle of a rant against Hillary Clinton. I even shouted “yeah Hillary” as I left. She is not talking to me at the moment. But someone needed to say something about a senseless rant about a woman who ran for President and lost.
Poetry is not for gossip and it is not for negative thinking or to run particular people down. Imagine I had gotten up there to the mic and in the name of Poetry said negative things about Obama. How many people would have shouted and left their seat? Be passionate about what you believe in, but polite and civil: because if you don’t, you breed incivility and impolite behavior.
# posted by she @ 1:59 PM 0 Comments
Monday, June 30, 2008
Life with daughter Elektra
I haven’t been keeping promises to myself over the last few days. I have been relaxing for the first time in I don’t know how long.
Elektra and I helped out a local homeless person since the last time I wrote to ya’ll. He has been in the neighborhood for only about six months, Elektra says. She came home the other day and was all flipped out because he had been in the hospital and they sent him back to his steps with only paper clothes. We finally went to Target a couple of days later and found a cheap shirt and pants and underwear and socks and a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread and a box of granola bars and Elektra donated her old college backpack. I think he was just a little bit surprised. I don’t know, someone else had already given him some clothes.
There are four homeless people on this square block. Two are a couple. Elektra says she still has her wedding ring, but his disappeared almost a year ago. Somehow they manage to stay clean. The fourth is a very old man whose clothes are always dirty and he walks with a limp.
What are these people doing on the street? Why do we let this happen? What kind of people have we turned into?
You’d think it was during the depression.
# posted by she @ 7:00 PM 0 Comments
Thursday, June 26, 2008
New York, New York
If America is a bee hive then New York is the Queen’s Den.I do love this place. But, I never forget about Houston , my home turf. New York is old and established, Houston is new and growing.
Sorry, sorry I can’t help it. I am a Texan.
I just got back from lunch with Elektra. We walked two blocks down her street and took a right for two more blocks to an excellent little Vietnamese diner. We were the only non-asians in the place. Every one else appeared to be Vietnamese Americans, so as you can guess, the food was wonderful.
Vietnamese food is so light and delicate. The smells are such a large part of the flavor. We had Vietnamese eggrolls which I always crave. The act of wrapping the mint and lettuce around them and then dipping them in fragrant thin sauce is delectable all in itself. It is such a sensual style of eating that it really adds to the enjoyment.
We shared lemongrass chicken. Vietnamese style cooking is more delicate than Chinese, mainly because the cuts of meat are smaller. I can’t imagine needing a knfie with any of the Vietnamese foods I have eaten. Whereas my favorite Chinese dinner is General Tsao’s chicken. Unless you eat in really big mouthfuls, you almost have to use a knife, because the pieces of chicken are large. It is heartier food.
We passed a soul food kitchen on the way home along with a Burger King and a small grocery store. We stopped in the tiny store, run by a Korean woman and bought some fruits. A plastic container of watermelon for me and some tiny finger bananas and I had to have some dried pineapple for the munchies later. Elektra included a few oranges, too. All of the fruits and vegetables were fresh as can be and cheaper than you pay in Texas. That is one of the beauties of living in an urban area. Everything you need is so close. Shopping is a joy not a chore.
On the walk home, an interesting little hispanic man passed us. He was pushing a small cart with a boom box in it, which was playing joyful Hispanic music of the type you hear on Sundays at any square in Mexico. His smile and nod were sending little bubbles of joy to everyone who passed him. Happiness is catching. I wish everyone knew that and passed it on whenever they felt that way.
Each day I will post a little something here to keep my friends up to date on my trip. The headline after this one will be the current entry. Older entries can be found on my writing blog which is to your left on this page. Click on the small square that says “writing” to see the older entries, if you don’t have time to come here everyday and you are interested.
I’m visiting my daughter Elektra. She lives in Jersey City, right across the river from Manhatten. It is cheaper to live here and a quick ride into the city. I always think of her as living in New York because there is only a river between the two places. The Holland Tunnel is the quickest way into the city.
We drove in last night to eat Indian Food at the place we always go when I visit. It is near 7th St and Second Avenue. You walk down six steps to the basement and enter India. Two Indians sit cross-legged on a home built plywood table by the front door, one wears a turban because he is Sikh and the other must be Hindu because he wears no head covering. The Sikh plays the sitar (type of guitar with a very long throat and ball shaped base with I think – seven strings) and has a wonderful smile if you show him yours. The other plays the tabla (drum) and is very serious. He only nods when you smile. They make enchanting music together.
# posted by she @ 2:45 PM 0 Comments
Monday, June 23, 2008
On the Way
I have spent the morning sorting paperwork so I can get some work done while I am gone. This afternoon I will throw together some clothes. The new rules about not bringing excess baggage suits me to a tee. I travelled for almost two years with one carry on and my computer and it was wonderful. This evening I am going to New York and feel the freedom of the road again. I will try to keep you updated on anything interesting.
# posted by she @ 8:12 AM 0 Comments
Off to New York
I may or may not be adding to this site over the next couple of weeks. I am leaving in a couple of days to visit my daughter Elektra in the Big Apple. Well, actually she lives just across the river in Jersey City but we will make a few trips into the city.
It’s possible I will have more time to write, for which I would be greatful.
# posted by she @ 8:10 AM 0 Comments
Friday, May 9, 2008
No more Time for Halleck
My ex-husband, friend, companion and father of my children, Halleck Rose died Tuesday April 22, 2008 at 4:30pm.
His Memorial was held on Sunday at 2:00pm in the Harbor Room at the Clear Lake Hilton. His ashes will later be flown out over Galveston Bay and released to the wind by his friend Clive Jackson of Friendswood with our daughters Elektra and Lauren Rose and myself.
I twisted my ankle quite badly on the day of the funeral. It is still black and blue but I have wrapped it now and it is getting better.
I have a house full of white roses. Elektra made the flower arrangements for the funeral.
Here is a poem I wrote a few days before Halleck died at the VA.
An Airman’s Reward
His reward is his life.
His reward is no legs.
His reward is being unable to speak
though he once loved to joke and tell stories.
His reward is life without work.
His reward is being ignored.
His reward is a Veterans Administration
with no feelings, no milk of human kindness.
His reward is a life of memories.
His reward is an inability to communicate.
His reward is a country that doesn’t care
about the soldiers who fought for it, but didn’t bring home the glory.
His reward is staring at the ceiling.
His reward is never to receive an award.
His reward is lost in the chaos of a country
which has lost it’s feelings for ex-soldier’s who need help.
