Saturday, June 24, 2017

Writers' Group at B's House - Dinner at Dan's - My new short story Invitation to a Funeral

Chronic Renal Card arrives in mail. Was working here on Red Couch when I saw the mail truck drive past my house.

Mail! thinks I. I'd thought today was Sunday, which makes no sense, as I was gonna go upstairs and write a story for today's writing group.

We had a good crowd.

Linda Barrett wrote a poem about New Directions - no one understands about meds -  and also something about Getting bit by fleas, ants, tics, the inside of Princess's ear getting bit, very clever.

Rem said it reminded him of some of James Dickey's poetry. The Poetry Foundation describes him as "James Dickey is known for his sweeping historical vision and eccentric poetic style." Rem was right on the mark.

He's finally moving from his bug infested apartment.

Ken wrote a mostly true story called "What if he were an angel?" Well-written and absorbing, the narrator puts $18 worth of transportation fare into the box on the bus for a man who claims he's lost everything.

Not long afterward, he hears from Nathan, who sends him a ticket to a new play in NYC. Ken gets gold-star treatment.

Ken told us something SHOCKING.  Last night was the last night of the Coffeegrounds program at the Willow Grove Bible Church.

THE LAST?  And I wasn't there due to exhaustion. The band was excellent, said Ken. Will look em up on YouTube. 

Beatriz wrote one of her fascinating pollinator stories. Millions of years ago, pollinators such as wasps and bees did not have stingers. They evolved. I shared this news with Grace and Max who were overcome with ennui.

Earlier today, they had gone swimming at Penbryn Pool

Image result for penbryn pool

I used to take the late Anne Tucker there. She was so grateful, as was I, cuz I got to SWIM.

After much sleeping this morning, I finally began Invitation to a Funeral around 11 am. I thought it was pretty good.

First I had to think of the names of my characters and write em down. For the pastor, male chauvinist that I am, I first thought of a male pastor.

Then I thought of the name Alice. But every time I wrote that name the word ALICIA came up. So I changed the name to DIANA.

Now Diana's gotta get the idea to have a funeral while the person is still alive. What should I name the person who will die? I tried to think of a person I really admire and thought of

  Janet Gerhard at our Addictions Seminar.

Our dying woman in the story is called Janet Brickman. Long ago I wrote a short story about Brickman's Farm.

What disease should she die from?

How about Eisenmenger Syndrome, a rare and fatal genetic disease of the heart.

Beatriz told me to elaborate about the symptoms, which I did.

Still, the comments I received were less than good.  

If anyone wants to read it, lemme know and FedEx it to you.

I think this is all I had to say.

Hold on. I'll check the Times for something not too terrible.

Creating a Garden Oasis in New York City. Shhh! If they find out I've got it, my name is mud!

- Ruth Z Mudd

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