WEP Challenge for May - Failure - or is it?

Welcome to WEP's Blogfest for May [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for 21-14 May 2014 - 'Failure - or is it?':

Good Luck in Bad

'Tur i oturen' is a Swedish expression, which literally means, 'Good luck in bad luck'. It's what you say when things go wrong, but by some miracle, you have fared well, considering what could have happened.

I had reason to say this on Monday May 5th, when I tripped and fell on the pavement, at the tram stop on the high street, on my face.

I was out shopping with the children, Elisabet, soon ten, and Erik, twelve. They needed new clothes and we got caught in the make-up department of Hennes & Mauritz, buying lipstick and nail polish for ourselves and as gifts. 

Instead of doing what we usually do when shopping, that is, taking the baby-carriage to transport all of our new treasures home, I just thought I could carry it all and take the tram home. (I don't own a car.) I had six huge shopping bags (the kind with handles or hand-holes) with children's clothes, three in each hand, plus holding Elisabet's hand. Erik rode his bicycle home, but we took his things with us. 

Elisabet and I left the shopping mall, stood on the high street and saw the tram roll into place. 

'Will we get on before it leaves the stop?' 

Elisabet and I ran across the street behind the tram and saw the doors open and people getting on and then the doors closing. Panting, we were just outside of the door, but before I could get close enough to press the open-button, I tripped and fell. I saw the square concrete blocks of the ground coming up at me - fast. It hurt badly when I hit it. Did I brace my fall? I could not remember. I had so much to carry and Elisabet did not see what had happened. 

I just lay still. I used the bags of clothing as a pillow and just remained lying there on the ground, while kindly passers-by asked me if I was alright. I wasn't sure. The driver of the tram called emergency services and did not continue his route until the ambulance had arrived. I got up and sat on the waiting-bench and started to feel my face with my hands. 

According to the paramedic, I landed well, considering that I hit a concrete floor. I hit one side of my chin, which was bleeding and swollen. Half of my face was numb. (That feeling you get at the dentist's when you get local anesthesia.) My lips were bleeding. I probably looked like a prize-fighter or a battered-wife.

The paramedics checked me over and asked if I wanted to be taken to the hospital. I looked at Elisabet and decided to not put her through the long wait at the emergency room. 'Check me out now, and take me home, if you can.'

'You are really lucky.' I was told. My teeth were in tact. I had fallen on the fattiest part of my face. I could have broken my jar or fractured some other part of my face or pushed my nose in. My jaw could have been pulled out of joint. I had no trouble opening my mouth, even though there was some internal bleeding there. 

I sprained my right thumb, which means that maybe I did brake the fall a little. (I have had to hold a pen between my index and long finger in order to write, immediately and a few days after the accident.)

The ambulance drove me to the tram stop where we would have got off to get home. They are allowed to drive where other vehicles are not. Only police and the fire brigade can do that as well.

Elisabet and I thanked the ambulance driver and paramedic and called them Angels. Thank goodness they are there when you need them. I was going to be alright. 'Call us if you get a headache or start vomiting.' But I did not have a concussion either.

Elisabet went home to her father, two blocks away. I took some pain-killer and went to bed. Later, before I went out to do errands again, I put foundation make-up on the blackish blue bruise on my chin.  But it could not hide the swelling. I wore dark red lip stick to hide the scabs on my lips. I don't normally wear make-up at all. It seemed ironic that we had just left the make-up department before the accident.

At home in bed, I thought of everything bad that could have happened, but didn't: like biting off my tongue or breaking my teeth or having them fall out later on because of root-damage mot nerve-damage. (I know someone, who was in an auto-accident and had to get false teeth because of this.) Not even the scrape-sore under my chin will leave a permanent scar.

I was so lucky.

Now what does this have to do with writing and getting published? I am working on a secret writing-project and I am so superstitious that I can't say anything about it yet. I am still working 'with the door closed', as Stephen King has described it. It may flop. But I am going to see it through. It might work. Maybe I'll get lucky again.

[This is NOT a fictional text. This is what actually happened to me, as if I tore out a page from my diary.]

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Word count according to WordCalc: 876

 
Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:
Sally
of 
Sally's Scribbles

 

IWSG-Insecure Writer's Support Group for April 2014

 

Anna Nordeman

 

Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh for starting Insecure Writer's Support Group.

This is my thirteenth post for IWSG.

Elsa, the cat, and my daughter, Elisabet

 







For my April edition of IWSG I would like to a few words about an adventure series for children, from about 8 to 12 years of age, called Warriors, by Erin Hunter. It is about four groups of ferrel cats that live in a forest, far away from humans or the 'twolegs', as the cats call them.





I was on a trans-Atlantic air-trip, when I first saw one of these books in the hands of a ten year old girl from the Netherlands. She sat and read and read so intently that I just had to ask her what she was reading.

As soon as I returned home, I ordered a copy of the first book Into the Wild, and read it very quickly. It was a real page-turner and I would dare to say, a cross-over book. You can be an adult and still enjoy reading them. (I've read the first six books)

The main character is a ginger tomcat, named 'Rusty' who looks a lot like my former cat, Lars:

Elisabet holding Lars or Sigge

But Rusty runs away from home and joins a band of wild cats who live together in a colony they call 'ThunderClan'. Rusty starts off as an apprentice warrior cat and after proving himself worthy as clan-member, he is accepted and rises in their ranks ...  I don't want to give away what happens but it is an interesting point of view.

If any of you have read any of these books, let me know. I enjoyed reading them.

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I bought a stuffed toy cat today, to give to my daughter on her tenth birthday on May 12th. It is a consolation present because of her cat-fur-allergy. By then all of our cats should have moved to new homes. My deadline is the end of April.

And to everyone who is going to participate in April's big event - Happy A-to-Z-ing! I'm sorry, but I just don't have the time (or energy) to do the A to Z in April. But I'll try to visit!

Yours faithfully,
Anna

P.S.
For those who would like to see my list of how-to-write-books, please go here. 
[If you would like to read my other earlier posts for IWSG, go back to my first post in March 2013 here, in April 2013 here, in May 2013 here, in June here, in July 2013 here, in August 2013  here,  in September 2013  here,  in October 2013 here, in November 2013 here, in December 2013 here, and for January 2014 here, and February 2014 here and March 2014 here.]

First Commenter:
The Armchair Squid

 

Through the Eyes of a Child - WEP Challenge for 26 March 2014 - Write Edit Publish

Welcome to WEP's Blogfest for March [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] Challenge for 26 March 2014 - 'Through the eyes of a child':

Through the Eyes of a Child

Ida and Karla were both nine years old. Ida lived on a farm with horses. Karla lived in a city, an hour's drive away. But Karla's father owned the nearest farm and that was where they spent holidays and weekends. 

Ida and Karla were very modern children, and kept in touch through their i-phones. Karla sat in her room with make-up on a small table with the image of Ida on her i-phone propped up against a bottle of nail-polish remover.

'What do you think of this colour, Ida?' showing off her lip glans*.

'Did you get real earrings?' asked Ida.

'No, they are glue-on earrings from the children's department at Ahlén's department store.'

'Really? They look like real earrings. Everyone here has pierced ears. My older sister and my second cousin and everyone at school. I got my first pair of earrings last year.

'Almost everyone at my school wears earrings now.'

'Do you want to get your ears pierced?'

'Yes. But Mum won't allow it. I'll do it when I'm eighteen and can do what I want.'

'That's nine years from now. Why won't she let you do it now?'

'Because of the risk of infection. She says my heart leaks.'

'Your heart leaks?'

'Yes. I have a huge scar on my chest from the heart-operation I had when I was only one week old.' 

'Well, maybe she's right. You have to be careful in the beginning before it heals. I had to wash my ear lobes with alchohol every morning and night for six weeks.' 

'Do you like my nail polish?' asked Karla holding her hand to the phone camera, changing the subject.' Karla then brushed her eye lashes with mascara. 'Can you see that I have mascara on my eye lashes?'

'Just a little. Are you coming to the farm on Friday?'

'Yes. I'll be there.'

'Good. I want to show you my new pony. And then we can play with my Barbie dolls.'

'I'll let you know when we are on our way.'

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Word count according to WordCalc: 357

P.S.

I bet you all were expecting something horrble to happen here. Am I right?  Originally, I was going to do just that. 

This everyday scene is very much like a conversation, that I happened to overhear, between my daughter and her friend. 

My babies are growing up. Little girls start early wanting to be little women. They also want to be exactly alike. It is hard for a little girl to be different; to be the one who does not do what everyone else is doing.

I know. This is just a sketch. It's not really a story yet. But it will be. Karla arrives at the farm, and the two friends take a walk through the woods where, in the moonlight, a spaceship hovers and Karla is beamed up and abducted by aliens! 

 

Best wishes,
Anna











*P.S.
'Lip glans' is meant to be 'lip gloss'. I was thinking in Swedish, temporarily.





 
First Commenter:
Niljanjana Bose
of
Madly-in-Verse