Write Away Day One Review

With world-class writing coach, Adair Lara

Want to keep writing after Write Away?

Hello Campers!,

Interesting how many writers selected "How I get up" as their topic. We also got makeup, packing, packaging, milking, putting in hearing aids, putting on high-school musicals, catching cats and taking cats to the vet, and getting unlost. I am a vastly better informed person than I was a couple of hours ago. (By the way, if you private message me and don't hear back, try me at adair.lara@gmail.com.)

I like the crisp instructional tone with which TraumaGoddess approaches what turn out to be instructions on how NOT to pack: "Decide what the weather will be during your stay: obsess about it and move the area's weather reports to your home page and check it hourly for the week before you leave." This is followed by a very funny rationale for why ten outfits and six pairs of shoes must be stuffed into a suitcase for a four-day trip.

I adored Granny Gladys biscuit-making, and her folksy persona. "It's right rewarding to start with a nasty mess and end up with a plate full of pretty biscuits. Thing about making biscuits is that the bigger the mess you make, the better them biscuits are." Isn't there a life lesson for us all in that statement? Later, she adds, "If my hands are really messed up, they're going to be good biscuits." Same thing with writing--often you have to be willing to start by making an unholy mess.

Here's more of her folksy tone (she probably has a PhD): "I set them in a baking pan with sides touching. I smear a bit of corn oil on the tops and bake them at 500 degrees for about 15 minutes. I swan, if I say so myself, them's the prettiest biscuits you'll ever see."

lostmutt has inspired me to get a dedicated facial cleansing bar and spend longer in what my husband calls my "birdbaths." This early statement in Otter's entry captures my interest and attention: "To my ongoing disappointment, I am not a bright, optimistic riser, but a cranky one, and so I have devised a routine that wedges my reluctant self into the day." Notice that whenever you write, you want to present a problem early in the piece, to keep the reader reading.

AnitaP gives us a very funny piece on a game of musical chairs played with cats. I hope she writes more.

I like vwomack's beginning: "When I joined TeeBeeDee, one of the questions on the 'Quickie' was something like, 'I want to be buried with____,' and my answer was 'My makeup. I'll need it in the hereafter.'"

Here's information so specific it amounts to a great tip: "Black eyeliner pencil dotted along the outer edges of the upper and lower lids. The effect is finished with small dots of blue following the line of the black pencil. To 'pop' the color, according to the lady at Merle Norman." vwomack actually can go home and reproduce what the wizards at the makeup counter do. She's a god to me. And she has a nice ending: "Am I ready to take on the world? No, but I think I can make it down to the mailbox."

Our newcomer, LeeAnna (welcome, you!) offers some excellent packing tips, including: "No taping the box shut before wrapping (that just frustrates everyone--the wrapper, the recipient and the onlookers).

"Buy one of those expensive tape dispensers that professional movers use. They are fabulous.

"A small margarine container placed over the bow will keep it crisp in transit. Tape everything up nice and solid and then--open Microsoft Word and type the address. Here's where the fun begins. For birthdays I find clip art photo of an actual candle and paste it all around the address. Oh and of course I address the package to Birthday Boy Dan..."

Guess I'll have to stop cutting up grocery bags and ducting taping them over presents before sending.

Hey Daudi e Cinza, am I doing yoga here? Am late getting this out because I had to stop and try these movements. Now I'm too Zen'd out and in love with the universe. Hard to keep that old neck from cracking though.

spuff has excellent advice for how to get rid of someone who won't leave you alone. I am left wanting to know how small she is.

Anne Gordon is determined to plant her Brugmansia (whatever that is). She is a model of resolution--at first:

"Jeans check. Shovel, check. Hat, check. Gloves check. Time to dig a hole. Gosh this dirt is hard as rock. I may need a cookie soon for sustenance. I just bought those chocolate dipped English wheat digestible tea biscuit's or maybe chocolate biscotti would be good. Dang this hole isn't getting anywhere. This may be too big a job for me. I may need a man or at least a teenager to dig this hole. Yes I could even hire someone. I will just shovel these few rocks back into the hole...

"Come on doggies! Let's have tea!"

Very funny moment, well set up.

I love the surprise element in Andi8750's elaborate preparations for--what? You have to read the piece: "OK, final checklist. Cigs? Check. Lighter? Check. Oreos, not too many? Check. Phone? Check. I do truly hate to be interrupted once I start! All necessary calls been made? Check. No one expected? Check. Comfy cotton nightgown? Check. TV on the all country station, set low? Check. Check and re-check."

Dallas offers a piece comparing writing for Write Away camp with getting married (an audacious comparison). It contains one of the funniest lines I've read in a long time: "Imagine my surprise when my new mother-in-law kept harping at the reception, 'What kind of fool says 'Huh?' instead of 'I do.' ?"

Adrienne has a hysterical piece on trying to take a cat to the vet. It fails the first time, and when Adrienne returns from the vet with the other animals: "...there she is, stretched out on the porch sunning. 'I hope it wasn't too painful,' she seemed to say as she stretched even more, turned her head and continued her nap." You gotta read how they manage to do better the next time.

Lafaymom's vignette of getting ready for a date is so sensual we can't see how the actual date can match up.

**Now we come to the many Honorable Mentions...**

HumanBean's story of putting on high-school musicals could only have been written by someone who has done this job. "Students and their mother think they have the absolute best musical title to suggest. For the first couple of years, I took these suggestions fairly seriously. I even wrote them down. Now, I politely thank them for their input. 'We'll add it to the list,' I reply with a smile."

This is a terrific lead--makes me eager to read the story to find out why their innocent suggestions fall on such incredulous ears.

Here are some examples of the terrific details that follow:
"Then there is the vocal director with her thirty plus years of experience in dealing with high school voices and matching them to professional scores. Add to that the orchestra conductor who has to consider how many violins are needed or if the saxophone part is too difficult for his only sophomore sax player. Last, but not least, let's consult the choreographer who knows exactly how well most high school boys can dance."

That is a great paragraph--one that could have been written only by someone with experience. Later we see all the school directors listening "to countless CD's in our cars as we travel on our 'time off'.

"Yes, Mrs. So-n-so, thank you for your suggestion. We'll add it to the list! I look forward to seeing you at the next Booster meeting!

"HA!"

HumanBean, you gotta write more on this subject. You just gotta.

marilyndevine has a terrific story showing someone waking and going through bathroom routine in silence, until she puts in her hearing devices:

"'VROOM!' the sudden sound of a plane headed for Philadelphia International fills my ears and I jump a little, always startled when sound first invades my day.

"'THUMP,THUMP, THUMP!' My feet clatter down the stairs as I head for the newspaper and the start of my morning routine.

"'GURGLE, BURBLE, SQUINK!' The coffee pot greets me in the kitchen."

I would just say, be clearer in the beginning that noises go unheard--I didn't pick it up, though of course when I looked back it was there.

kle618 got some useful advice from her mother-in-law: "Kristine, Don't you EVER let them teach you to milk those cows."

If only she'd heeded it.

Her story starts with this portentous beginning: "One day my husband was gone doing an equipment appraisal and he didn't return in time to start the milking. I thought to myself, I can do this. I know all of the steps--I can get things going so we won't be out here all night." We get the spoiled cow named CC pushed and coaxed into the holding pen. "She looked pretty smug, as if she knew that I was going to be a bit late now, thanks to her."

Here's a great detail: "The first couple changes of cows would dance and move a little uneasily because the water in the wash hoses hadn't yet warmed up--I think I'd dance, too, if someone squirted my udder off with cold water!"

If you read her account, you will learn why each cow gets a fresh paper towel, the source of the humming and the sucking sounds, and how 600 pounds of milk went down the drain, literally. Very funny, and she sets it up well by showing how confident she feels in the beginning.

The Writeaway Winner of the Day for Tuesday, April 8

Today the grand honor goes to sqldave's amazing account of a man finding his way back to his truck. Here's a sample, so you can see the interesting approach -- he says, "the man" instead of "I," in the extraordinary McGyver-like detail of the man's journey back. It even involves math:

"Since he'd parked the truck a mile and a half back from the L turn, then he had fished on the corner of a right triangle. One and one-half miles one side, one-half mile on the short side, the long side needing some calculation.

"Without a pen or paper he figured it in his head. 1 1/2 squared plus 1/2 squared equals... 2 1/4 + 1/4 equals 2 1/2 miles. The square root of 2 1/2 miles would be a little more than 1 1/2 miles distance. The trouble was, he obviously hadn't gone in the right direction, but if he stopped now, and found a bearing, he would still hit that road somewhere if he could get pointed the right way. He needed to walk south west to back to a road that was west of him. If he went south he would hit the highway, eventually.

"Holding his arm straight out towards the sun, palm turned, he counted the number of palm widths between the sun and horizon knowing each was equal to one hour of daylight. Sundown was still four hours away. "Now I need a compass" The man said. He searched the ground and found a slender, nearly straight stick about eighteen inches long. With his knife, he sharpened one end slightly and pressed it into the earth, as close to vertical as he could judge."