Monday, December 6, 2010

Just One of Those Moods (5 syllables)

Our neighborhood is two streets--East and West. There's only one way in and out. Walking the complete circle is about a mile. During Halloween, we have approximately 300 kids and families come through. We close our streets to traffic, park cars at the entrance and youngsters walk door to door trick or treating.

The last time I sat in the front yard and handed out candy, a young guy about 10 years old dressed in flashy clothing and gaudy jewelry came by. I asked what he was.

“I’m a pimp,” he answered.

“A what?” I was sure I hadn’t heard right.

“A pimp.”

That was about five years ago. I haven’t participated in our neighborhood trick or treat ritual since. Something about a youngster dressing like a pimp ruined my Halloween spirit. Plus, kids never say trick or treat anymore. They just hold out their open bags and grunt.

This morning I got an email from our neighborhood association with information about our cookie exchange. It states: Please bring 5 dozen of your favorite holiday cookies wrapped in ½ dozen packages and 10 copies of the recipe. In exchange, you will bring home 10 different packages of holiday cookies!

Honestly, I can’t think of anything worse than being in the kitchen, baking and decorating holiday cookies. (Okay, you literalist, I know there are lots of things worse) I was being dramatic.

I guess I’m feeling old today. I still have much shopping to do. We don’t have one Christmas decoration up unless you count the wrinkled wrapping paper and wad of ribbon on the floor from last Saturday’s BWG gifts. {sigh} And I can't figure out why I'm thinking of a 10 year old pimp with a halloween bag. I think I need a good shot of holiday spirit--and I don't mean the liquid kind!

On another note, I’ll share some writing news:

Months and months ago, BWG invited J. Bruce Fuller to speak and I purchased his book of poetry called 28 Blackbirds at the End of the Word. I really liked it, and J’s talk to us was encouraging. In fact, I was so inspired, I started my own book of poetry. About 8 more poems and the manuscript will be complete. Amazing how I can spend hours struggling over 17 syllables. I emailed five poems to an online lit magazine the other day--just test the waters.

Don't you just love playing around with book titles? In my mind, I call it My Life in Haiku but at other times, I call it, Here, Swallow My Soul. I'm sure the title will change a hundred times.

The point is ... when I first started writing, it was so much fun and that's what I'm searching for.-The fun. I've been playing around with flash fiction, short mystery fiction, poetry--just like in the so-called good old days of my writing roots.

But oddly, I've become totally consumed with Haiku. I find myself counting the syllables when I eavesdrop in restaurants (as I'm prone to do) and a particular phrase catches my ear.
Am I losing my mind? Maybe, but it's a heck of a lot more fun than baking cookies.

NOTE: Read my interview with J. Bruce Fuller HERE.


KarenG said...

That Halloween pimp incident would cure me of it all as well. This year my husband and I celebrated our first empty nest Halloween by turning out the lights and pretending we weren't home. It was wonderful.

David Cranmer said...

If Haiku is what moves you then I would definitely concentrate on them.

Sylvia Ney said...

Wonderful news about your poetry book. I can't wait to see it finished. Good luck with the publisher!

Jan Rider Newman said...

Well, that does take the cake -- or the cookie, as the case may be. I gave up on Halloween years ago. It's my bah-humbug holiday. But I'm so excited that you're excited about writing something. And haiku! That's great fun, and I wish you lots and lots of fun and publication.