| General Fiction posted September 11, 2024 |
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Write or Wrong is the question, Conflictually speaking
Curse You Conflict! I'm Too Old
by Reese Turner
Dealing with a Conflict Contest Winner
At age 76, I am seldom conflicted. No brothers or sisters or bosses in my life. No conflict with tax collectors as they always win anyway. No conflict over politicians as I have learned they are all the same. No conflict on how to play golf; I was never very good and now I am even worse. Which NFL team? I stopped caring long ago…
No intelligent man has conflict with his wife. She is always right. He is always wrong. To debate otherwise is indeed a fool’s errand. I have studied this for near-half a century. Preachers preach that man and wife will be together for eternity in Heaven. That would not be Heaven and I have appealed the ruling…
But, as I write this, I am conflicted over whether I should renew my Fanstory membership. I do love to write rhyming poetry and short stories. I am a slave to what I find as humorous – whether anyone else does or not. My ego has been served by a few wins, a few #2s and a few more #3s. And, I have suffered my share of “no comments”, but writing the piece was fulfilling even if ignorable.
No, the conflict here is that I must send a payment this month in order to continue my Fanstory membership. On the one hand, I still like to write but on the other, I am nearing the point where I have little left to opine. I seldom win anything now, and those “free” prompts? I’ve never even scored a #3! I think that “committee” ignores me. Anyway, now, I simply can’t remember what I have to say. For example, recently, I started to write about sex. I could not finish the first sentence.
And another thing: age is taking my attention span. I often do not notice or forget all the rules for entering a prompt. It happened again right here! I did not pick-up the minimum number before I submitted. That is just not like me at all, I am a Texan. We are famous for our writing mantra, “Why use one word when twelve will do?” But I didn't and had to go back and add more words before the deadline.
I’ve also ruled out writing where “iambic pentameter” is demanded. To the purists among us, iambic pentameter is a sacred trust, skip one beat or add one to the demand, or wrong rhythm, and you get bounced! At my age, I do not bounce well.
As long as I am admitting my poetic shortcomings, there is my anthema to “free verse’; I do not understand how something can be called poetry which does not rhyme. Isn’t that often called a sentence, or a paragraph or a short story? Lots of words strung together which do not rhyme just is not a “poem” to me. So, I never entered but one of those prompts.
“When you love wine, the time of day does not matter” was to be my first novel but I’ve never finished my research. There is nothing else in life, at this age, that I have time to get started on. I made time to study wine. One of my favorite sayings has been, “I honestly tried to catch a cab, but my mind went blanc.” Great stuff! I often wondered, “who exactly was Pinot Grigio? Was he French or Italian?” Anyone would look at the title and say, “Yeah, so what?” Or, I could write about my wife… Yeah, I could… But, I won’t!
I once lived on a few acres down a dead-end country road. I had rockers on the front porch and I wrote many things there. I found inspiration every day and my writings celebrated life. Now, I have a small room in a small house and I just complain about taxes and prices and TV, etc. Who wants to read poems or stories about that stuff? On the other hand, to keep all that in and not find purpose in expelling it from my mind could not be healthy. Oh, curse this conflict! I shall have another Pinot Grigio, sassy, but not obtrusive, to help me find corridor through this conflict. Can I live without prompts? Would parting be sweet sorrow? Or, welcome relief? And, for whom?
At age 76, I am seldom conflicted. No brothers or sisters or bosses in my life. No conflict with tax collectors as they always win anyway. No conflict over politicians as I have learned they are all the same. No conflict on how to play golf; I was never very good and now I am even worse. Which NFL team? I stopped caring long ago…
No intelligent man has conflict with his wife. She is always right. He is always wrong. To debate otherwise is indeed a fool’s errand. I have studied this for near-half a century. Preachers preach that man and wife will be together for eternity in Heaven. That would not be Heaven and I have appealed the ruling…
But, as I write this, I am conflicted over whether I should renew my Fanstory membership. I do love to write rhyming poetry and short stories. I am a slave to what I find as humorous – whether anyone else does or not. My ego has been served by a few wins, a few #2s and a few more #3s. And, I have suffered my share of “no comments”, but writing the piece was fulfilling even if ignorable.
No, the conflict here is that I must send a payment this month in order to continue my Fanstory membership. On the one hand, I still like to write but on the other, I am nearing the point where I have little left to opine. I seldom win anything now, and those “free” prompts? I’ve never even scored a #3! I think that “committee” ignores me. Anyway, now, I simply can’t remember what I have to say. For example, recently, I started to write about sex. I could not finish the first sentence.
And another thing: age is taking my attention span. I often do not notice or forget all the rules for entering a prompt. It happened again right here! I did not pick-up the minimum number before I submitted. That is just not like me at all, I am a Texan. We are famous for our writing mantra, “Why use one word when twelve will do?” But I didn't and had to go back and add more words before the deadline.
I’ve also ruled out writing where “iambic pentameter” is demanded. To the purists among us, iambic pentameter is a sacred trust, skip one beat or add one to the demand, or wrong rhythm, and you get bounced! At my age, I do not bounce well.
As long as I am admitting my poetic shortcomings, there is my anthema to “free verse’; I do not understand how something can be called poetry which does not rhyme. Isn’t that often called a sentence, or a paragraph or a short story? Lots of words strung together which do not rhyme just is not a “poem” to me. So, I never entered but one of those prompts.
“When you love wine, the time of day does not matter” was to be my first novel but I’ve never finished my research. There is nothing else in life, at this age, that I have time to get started on. I made time to study wine. One of my favorite sayings has been, “I honestly tried to catch a cab, but my mind went blanc.” Great stuff! I often wondered, “who exactly was Pinot Grigio? Was he French or Italian?” Anyone would look at the title and say, “Yeah, so what?” Or, I could write about my wife… Yeah, I could… But, I won’t!
I once lived on a few acres down a dead-end country road. I had rockers on the front porch and I wrote many things there. I found inspiration every day and my writings celebrated life. Now, I have a small room in a small house and I just complain about taxes and prices and TV, etc. Who wants to read poems or stories about that stuff? On the other hand, to keep all that in and not find purpose in expelling it from my mind could not be healthy. Oh, curse this conflict! I shall have another Pinot Grigio, sassy, but not obtrusive, to help me find corridor through this conflict. Can I live without prompts? Would parting be sweet sorrow? Or, welcome relief? And, for whom?
Dealing with a Conflict Contest Winner |
What could I possibly add?
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