What A Whole Load Of Nonsense

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What A Whole Load Of Nonsense

In all of the writing groups I have involved with, there were always certain questions posed. The most common being, "Excuse me where are the washrooms?" Or if you are from south of the border, the restrooms. Then there's the good old Brit who'd ask for the bog or the loo.

Yeah, the bog I get, but the loo? The English have different names for everything, but considering they've been around six or seven years longer than the entire North American Continent has been discovered and they've got the Queen on their side, which overrules everyone.

But I digress, otherwise my title does begin to make total sense. A very common question is, "how do I pull my readers in, lock them up and throw away the key." Well the last bit I just made up. So if I said the following;

From atop the plateau overlooking Machu Picchu the couple gazed. The old stone buildings glinting in the sunlight. Air so rarified it was hard to breathe. Overhead eagles cried out. Julia-Rae licked the salty sweat from her lips, as his calloused hand brushed along her arm, sending a shiver through her. She inhaled, smelling that pungent, masculine aroma oozing out of his pores.

Did that pull you in? If not, stop reading and beat it, I'm wasting your time and mine. But, if yes, then what did I do to engage the reader? ..... waiting!

Some are probably now thinking, is this guy crazy? Yup. Does he drive his wife and his publisher crazy? Yup, and double yup. Does he make much or any sense at all?

Bang. You've got it. Senses. I used all of them in that paragraph; sight, taste, touch, smell and hearing to engage the reader. If you can make the reader experience all of those in a scene, you've got them involved. And if this doesn't work for you, try gardening; then it's just you, dirt and weeds. Doesn't get more basic than that.

Or you could use my next favorite tactic to engage the reader, grab your book and whack them on the forehead with its spine. They'll either be engaged or unconscious and when they come to, you will definitely have their (and most likely their lawyers as well), attention.

Oh, before I finish and just in case you're wondering, Loo? Where the hell did that come from? Some say it came from the shortened term - Waterloo- the English bathroom company that manufactured toilets and urinals. Or, I really like this one, and no, I didn't make this up. In the late eighteen hundreds the Earl of Lichfield loved to entertain people, only he had a most miserable wife, "Lady Louisa." After meeting her, many guests replied with, "nice chap but she's anything but a lady." Back then, the posh people would put the visitor's name on their bedroom doors. Two rather inebriated gentlemen decided to switch her name plate with the bathrooms. Later guests laughingly told everyone of "going to visit Lady Louisa" or today "going to the loo."

Was it serendipity or a higher power? By Sandy Semerad

As I reflect on certain events in my life, I can't help but wonder. Did these things occur by chance or was a higher power at work?

Tell me what you think after you've read this:

 Years ago, I worked as a reporter for the Marietta Daily Journal. The phone rang in the newsroom, and I grabbed it.

“Where can I turn to for help?” a woman asked. “It’s almost Christmas and my children still believe in Santa. We’re running out of money for shelter and food. I’ve called the United Way and all the churches. No one will help us,” she said.

I listened to her plea. Her husband and two young children had driven across country to relocate for her husband’s job, she said. He’d been offered a better position, as a trucker for a local transport company.

On the long drive to Atlanta, their car broke down. They spent most of their savings on repairs, she said.

When they arrived in the city, they found a motel they could afford. The room was grimy and scary, but she told herself, it was only temporary. Once her husband started his job, they'd be able to afford a better, more permanent home.

Her husband, being protective, didn’t want to leave his family alone and unsafe. So he took them along with him in his truck. When the company found out, he was fired.

“We have never asked for a handout before,” she said. “I used to criticize people who begged for handouts. Now I know I was wrong to judge.”

Her story touched me. It rang true.

I wrote a feature article about her family’s dilemma. The story ran, with their photo, in the next issue.

The following day, I was in my kitchen, and the phone rang. I started to let the machine get it, but something told me to answer the call.

“Are you the lady who wrote the article about that poor family?” a man asked, and then described in detail what he'd read.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you think these people are dependable?” He asked.

“Yes.”

 “I have an apartment, and I’m thinking of letting them live in it for free until they can get on their feet,” he said.

“That would be great,” I said.

A year passed. I was working as an editor for American Health Consultants in Atlanta. Christmas was approaching.

The phone rang in my office. I answered it.

It was the desperate woman, who had called me a year ago. She said she got my new work number from the Marietta Daily Journal. “I had to call and thank you and let you know, we’re going to have a wonderful Christmas this year.”

Her words touched me to tears, but it was years later when I began to wonder. Why was I in that exact spot when the phone rang in the newsroom? Why did I decide to write the story? And why did I answer the phone when that generous man, with the apartment, called?

I don’t know.

There have been many other examples I could share. I’ve included at least one of those instances in A MESSAGE IN THE ROSES, a novel based on a murder trial I covered in Atlanta. The book is primarily fiction, but as a professor once told me, “Fiction is the lie that tells the truth.”

Truth is a relative term, I know. We strive for truth, but don’t always achieve it. As to the truth about what causes certain events to occur, I’m still wondering. Do these things happen by chance—serendipity--or is a higher power at work?

What do you think? 

To find out more, visit my website: http://www.sandysemerad.com/ 

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Life and Lingerie by Ginger Simpson

http://www.bookswelove.net/authors/simpson-ginger/

Lingerie has certainly changed over the years.  Now, the more skimpy the better, but I can't fathom wearing a thong at my age, or ever.  I'm bad about even flossing my teeth.

  Back in the old west women were modest, but now things have really turned to the opposite side.  You just aren't hip if you panties and bra don't match, and of course that old adage, never go out without having on clean panties, is still a rule of thumb.  You never know when you might be in an accident...or fall as I recently did.  I'm changing several times a day, just in case.

While I'm sitting here picturing women of the old west in their bloomers, camisoles and sometimes even a corset, another story comes to mind.  I've shared this one before on my own blog, but it certainly bears repeating.  Watch how you say things to your friends.  :)

Don't the women in the picture to the right look comfy?  Well, remember  the ladies often wore bustles and hoop skirts.  Yuk.  I can't imagine wearing those these days since I trip on air.  You know, they didn't have hip replacements back then.  I'd be in big trouble.  I don't walk well with a cane let alone an aid fashioned from a tree branch.

But on with the post and the reason I choose this topic:

forums.mtbr.com

My friend , Rita,shared a joke today about sayings...
things you wish you could take back.

I was reminded  NOT of something I'd said, but
 something that was said TO me.
 I can laugh about it now, but at the time,
it wasn't all that funny. :)

I'd worked with a woman for years,
discussing her recent shopping trip and
 all the year-end bargains she'd found.
While discussing her purchases, the topic turned
 to the panties she bought.
Her dialog went something like this:

"I bought the same panties I've been
 getting for years. Same size as always,
 and I got them home, took a shower and
 put on a pair. I was shocked, absolutely shocked.
 I checked the label twice to make sure
 they were my size, but although the tag said they were, they hung on me. They were huge.
 The legs gapped, the seat sagged, and the waistband was evidently made to fit
 someone obese. I should have held them up before I bought them. I certainly would
 have noticed something wrong, because I don't think I've ever seen anything soooo big in my life."

Without blinking an eye, she turned to me.

 "Do you think you could wear them?"

Although I was taken aback by her comment, I came up with a pretty smart answer.

 "Well, if I can't, I can probably cover my car with them."

The sad ending to the story: They fit!!!  Note to readers:  They weren't
the size of those shown in the picture, just described in that fashion.