Comments on: Write a story

By: goforchris

goforchris — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 08:48:07 +0000

See where this can get you? mooncat comes through Joe's blog - and he lives in Bessemer, Alabama, where Ruth LaMonte's church is!

By: mooncat

mooncat — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 05:55:48 +0000

My 2 cents.

10 days of hospital green jello. Sucking on ice. Artificial chicken broth. “Italian” iced fruit that never went past Rome, Georgia. Finally, home sweet blessed home. Happiness is a real bed and a shower! All things are possible, even a proper breakfast. Tea. Fruit. Toast. One fried egg, broken and burned. Not even tasted.

By: Rosemary

Rosemary — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 14:27:38 +0000

No, not getting ahead of yourself, but I can see several words in mine I would like to exchange for a more considered effort.

By: alisonwriting

alisonwriting — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 09:18:59 +0000

Yes, isn’t it great that it can lead with equal success to Morningside ladies or transatlantic flavour!

I’m supposed to be working right now but pondering how the contributions could be put together and then perhaps attached to my website as a PDF file? Folk might want to correct the odd typo but I’d strongly discourage any tinkering with them…any ideas about the next step?

Looking ahead, if this were to happen periodically, it could become a self-publishable body of stuff but that would need organising, financing etc Am I getting ahead of myself here?

By: chris

chris — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 09:03:23 +0000

I agree! and I love the transatlantic flavour of Joe’s grapenuts…

By: Rosemary

Rosemary — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 08:23:07 +0000

Honestly Alison, we ought to do something with these the variety is incredible, inspiring.

By: alisonwriting

alisonwriting — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 07:51:54 +0000

My writer friend Jenny C encountered a technical glitch so here’s her story:

‘She was just frying an egg, when she expired,’ confided Miss Ferguson, handing over one shilling and sixpence for the wool.
I couldn’t help overhearing, of course, and, God forgive me, my first thought was What a waste! I mean, how often do we see a real egg these days?
‘Fortunately, this young man was passing and saw the smoke or the whole house could have gone up in flames,’ continued Miss F.
Fortunate indeed, I smiled to myself. Because, for as long as I could remember, my old schoolfriend had always hated eggs. Be they boiled, scrambled – or fried.

By: alisonwriting

alisonwriting — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 07:47:58 +0000

What a wordfest! Such a fun start to my day. abf, I love the shift of emphasis on ‘frying’. Seems rude to comment on one and not others but I don’t want to start making like a literary critic. Anyway, the stories speak for themselves. If ever one needed proof of the uniqueness of each of us, here it would be.

By: Dorothy

Dorothy — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 00:09:50 +0000

Hi. I got here from Chris’s blog and was tempted to have a go too, to give you some light relief..

Kaylee clicked on “Send” to email the photo of her macaroni cheese homework to her HE teacher, then birled her chair round to face her pal who was sprawled across her bed, stylus wiggling energetically over the screen.
“Level you on now?”
“Lasagne” Shannya answered without raising her eyes from the DS where Mamma Chef was assisting her with chopping tomatoes.
“K. I did the sushi level last night. Japanese rice and seaweed thing.”
“Yeah I had some from Tescos, dinnertime.”
“Anyway. Got Mamma Chef to help but batteries were low. She was just frying an egg, when she expired!”

By: abf

abf — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 23:38:24 +0000

“It’s the uncertainty, Agnes. Genetic engineering is all very well. Rheumatism plagued my family; but now…” Marjory performed an effortless plié. “Not bad for 73.” Agnes pondered the arithmetic in silence. “But you still don’t know the hour.”

“No, dear – it’s the indignity. We’re like butter or baked beans.” Agnes permitted herself a Morningside sniff. “Best Before…”

“Exactly: it comes with the package: they just don’t tell you the date. Uncertainty.”

“I beg to differ, dear. It’s the indignity. Look at poor Hetty: omelettes fines herbes her forte, but she was just frying an egg when she expired.”