Me? A Versatile blogger Award?

A Big Thankyou,  Lillie. I certainly didn't expect awards when I started this blogging caper, but it's a little thrilling nonetheless!
So here are the rules (see links below)

If you are nominated, you’ve been awarded the Versatile Blogger award.

•  Thank the person who gave you this award. That’s common courtesy.
•  Include a link to their blog. That’s also common courtesy — if you can figure out how to do it.
•  Next, select 15 blogs/bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly.
•  Nominate those 15 bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award — you might include a link to this site.
•  Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself

So I've already thanked Lillie and here's her link here 
http://lilliemcferrin.blogspot.com


15 blogs - Hooley dooley, now that's a hard one because I don't spend that much time reading, more writing!  OK, I'm going to break the rules and plead other priorities, I'll never publish if I try to get to 15!


1) Sarah @ thatspaceinbetween - you tweaked a sleeping interest in writing and I love your blog, a mix of humour and tender seriousness
2) Gill @ Inkpaperpen  - you give me the scaffold to hang my words
3) Versatile blogger - I looked you up to work this thing out
4) Sarah Mac @ peopledonteatenoughfudge for your incisive and witty posts (I'm still giggling over Bingo boobs) and your conscientious feedback. 
5) Jayne @ Writing without pay your comments and posts are always considered, meaningful and well written 


7 things about me
1) I once ate a whole tin of anchovies (only once...)
2) I have 3 cats and aspirations to decline gracefully (or otherwise) as a mad cat-lady
3) my favourite season is spring
4) my favourite colour is purple
5) I wish I had the courage to stop dyeing my hair
6) I long to go back to Laos
7) I'm miserable without sleep

Five Sentence Fiction - Horror

I don't read, watch or write horror, but who's to say there can't be a first time.? I have been playing Plants vs Zombies on my iPad, so maybe that's where this humble piece came from!
Don't forget to go to Lillie's blog for FSF! http://lilliemcferrin.blogspot.com/

Jake had had a rough day – crashing off his skateboard had left him scraped and sore and just a little embarrassed. His parents out for the evening, he wearily dragged himself to bed with his black cat, Frizz, for company.

A vague sense of unease tugged at his senses as he slid under his covers, did he actually latch the back door? As his mind struggled with sleep, the creatures swarmed and lurched up the staircase. Slathering excitedly, the zombies jostled for space on the landing as their leader opened Jake’s door and greedily pounced.

I thought I saw

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 20 - Write the words " I thought I saw" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.


I tried this twice - strictly timed to the 5 mins, with limited editing - I might play around with this as a rewrite sometime. Sort of inspired by the dreamy feel in The Slap last night - Connie's story...

I Thought I saw…

1)

They say it will come when you least expect it. He walked into my life and took up residence as if he’d always been there.

Hey baby, come be with me

Hey baby come lie down beside me, let me kiss you

Hey baby we’ll have such a wonderful life together, you and me

Hey baby you are my love, my only one, my forever…

I though I saw love in his eyes

Silken months of joy, love and desire, happy like never before

As summer faded and leaves grew wizened, promises now lost

I realized I had been mistaken.

2)

Summer sun, steamy breezes, breaths of love and desire

You are my beautiful you are my only

You are my only one

In those eyes, I thought I saw love

Autumn chill, leaves turn golden and sadly fall

No more, summer’s passion passed, now gone

In those eyes, I thought I saw love

Mistaken

Shenanigans - Five Sentence Fiction

Five Sentence Fiction

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the inspiration word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just take your inspiration from that word. 

My first try at Five Sentence Fiction  - here goes!

Nanna had the best legs in the family, always encased in perfect hose. I inhaled the smell of lamb roast as I read, for the hundredth time, the Disiderata on her wall.

Grandad clomped in the back door from the garden, placed grubby hands on her aproned waist and spun her around. “Oh you and your shenanigans”, she giggled, flicking spilt salt over her Irish shoulder.

As he left the room, she turned to me and dropped her voice, “I never could resist a man with a twinkle in his eye”.

Bring me a cup of sunshine...

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 19 - Sunshine in a cup. Write the words of Emily Dickinson: "Bring me sunshine in a cup" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

This is the first time I've really tried to stick to the time, to let the thoughts flow rather than concentrate on structure and grammar.

She runs on soft tippy toes through the grass.

‘Mummy, come and play with me!”

Bounding into her playhouse she giggles at a private internal joke.

“Come and play, come and play!”

I watch her sunstreaked hair, shiny, her cut still ruined by her last week’s effort with her scissors. Full of life, full of energy, full of ideas, they tumble out of her as rapidly as the speech from her mouth.

“Mummy come play, I’ll make you a picnic”

"What shall we eat my sweet?", I say

“Sandwiches of course, my mummy”

“What will we drink?”

She holds out pudgy hands and tips her buttercup face to me “for you, a cup of sunshine”

Rewrite..

I haven’t been with WoW for long, and as writing is a recently revisited challenge for me, I don’t have much work to analyse, nor time to do it this week – so here’s a quick rewrite.

I have gone with the “in my neighbourhood” piece, the first one I did as your helpful comments made me realise I had confused some of you. Being too close to the story can be blinding, can’t it? I don’t want to change the style as I like the way the writing reflects his brisk anxiety. So my aim is to make the story clearer.

Here goes…

Original

His eyes snap open. The hydraulic hum, the distant smash of glass a far away call to duty. Feet to floor, he dresses quickly, buttons one two three four five, a compulsory sixth tightens his neck. High waisted jeans, longitudinal creases precisely pressed. Hair parted and combed slickly.

His pulse quickens as the noises come closer, anxiety presses in as he anticipates the disruption ahead. Socks, then shoes, laces left over right, under, looped then tightly snapped. Sugared tea stirred, exactly thrice.

He stands outside tense and waiting.  His block runs from Shipley St to Windy Parade and he must keep it right.

‘G’day, mate!!” shouts the garbo over the cacophony of rubbish and recycling. An annoyed dismissal – how dare this troublesome invader expect response?

Machines lift and lower, coloured-lidded bins crash landing spreadeagled in gutters and grass. As the truck moves off, he scuttles into action, dragging them back into place, perfectly lined.

Down the street, house after house, (the units are the biggest anxiety), order is regained. Sweaty palms pocketed, his breathing slows as he surveys his morning’s work.

Another Tuesday morning.

Rewrite

His eyes snap open. The hydraulic hum of the truck, the distant smash of glass a far away call to duty. Garbage day has always unsettled him. Feet to floor, he dresses quickly, buttons one two three four five, a compulsory sixth tightens his neck. High waisted jeans, longitudinal creases precisely pressed. Hair parted and combed slickly.

His pulse quickens as the noises come closer, anxiety presses in as he anticipates the disruption ahead. Socks, then shoes, laces left over right, under, looped then tightly snapped. Sugared tea stirred, exactly thrice.

He stands outside tense and waiting.  200 metres of street is his self-enforced job to protect.

‘G’day, mate!!” shouts the approaching careless garbo over the cacophony of rubbish and recycling. An annoyed dismissal – how dare this troublesome invader expect response?

Machines lift and lower, coloured-lidded bins crash landing in gutters and on grass. As the truck moves off, he scuttles into action, dragging them back into place, perfectly lined, as they should be.

Down the street, house after house, (the units are the biggest anxiety), order is regained. Sweaty palms pocketed, his breathing slows as he surveys his morning’s work.

Another Tuesday morning.

Thankyou for commenting!

Sit under a tree and write..WoW Exercise 17

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 17: This week, we are going with Karen's idea for an open choice week. So take a look at the old writing exercises (you can find them listed in my sidebar: WoW Writing Exercises), find one you'd like to try (or retry!) and link it up to the linky below.
5 minutes inspired by a picture.
I can't work out how to copy it, but you can see it here. http://inkpaperpen.blogspot.com/2011/07/sit-under-tree-and-writeits-write-on.html

No-one knew of course. She could never let them know or too many would be at risk. The warnings had been rumbles of mumbles and murmurs, but none had heeded them. Not in their land, not in their homes.

Of course, the political word had been out, that there would be change when the new regime took over, but the extremes that it would go to were never envisaged. As the daughter of a city academic, life had been comfortable, never the sunburnt toil of the country folk. School, enough to eat, a pretty home, space of their own.

And then the trucks and the soldiers, the dictation of enforced poverty and an agrarian state.  Just yesterday the neighbours were taken, told that their new life would be in service of the better good. The screams of the children still echoed in her ears.

She ran to the tree, in the green glade, a special place, her special place. Checking over her shoulder, she made sure she had not been seen. A tear dropped as she slipped her treasures into the rootspace.

What we allow is what we approve*

In the quiet of a rainy Sunday morning before the troops arise, I’m enjoying time with my Mac trawling the net for nothing in particular (as you do).

But I’m stopped dead by a photo. Suri Cruise, running on the beach with Katie, in “her signature high heels”.  No, not Katie in heels, her daughter, Suri. How old is this child, 5? Maybe she just came from a special birthday party…but her mum’s in shorts and a T? What is this? I read further and find this part of her shoe collection worth “$150,000”.

So should I be surprised, they’re celebs, of course? And little girls have always wanted to wear heels (usually their mother’s) but on the beach? So then I threw the whole dilemma into Google, and guess what? This is not just a one off; she’s been doing it for years – Suri in golden high heels in 2009, aged 3 on slippery New York pavements etc etc. Yes I know the heels are ‘only” a few inches…..

So then to the debates on various sites. If we put aside the argument that this is a one-off, and in fact it is regular garb, lets see what the comments are. “Child abuse“ rant some, “get a life, what’s wrong with girls being princesses”, “if they like them, why shouldn’t they wear them” say others. The risk of injury and later orthopaedic problems is pointed out.

But the question I have, is - why are tiny shoes made with high-heels for everyday wear?  How come you can buy them? A bit like the infamous padded bras in (children’s) size 6 so little girls could have breasts like Mummy. HUH? Why can retailers manufacture and market these things?

So girls, why do we grown-ups wear high heels (though I confess I do not because they kill my feet and I fall over)?  In principle, I guess it’s to feel confident and sexy and to enhance height, leg shape and physical appeal to others (based on an ideal of….?). So why are we allowing this to be applied to little girls?  Surely this approach is at best foolish and at worst exploitative. Julie Gale, founder of Kids Free 2 B Kids clearly describes the problem here .

Collective Shout asks the question, “will we let children be children in Australia?” and cites a British six-month independent review into the commercialisation and sexualisation of childhood, commissioned by PM David Cameron. This review called for, amongst other things, retailers to offer age-appropriate clothes for children. The British Retail consortium has published good practice guidelines as a way forward for industry. 

Australia had a senate enquiry in 2008, which released recommendations to the media and marketing/retail industry, but a promised 18 month review has not happened. Do have a look at the above organisations and sign up to their good work if you agree. Novelactivist has a dissenting view, interesting to ponder, though there’s a few too many big words in there for me.

Little girls have so many expectations to conform to, let’s at least let them develop a rudimentary sense of their child-self (and I acknowledge that “dress-ups” in imaginative play is part of this) before they normalise adult sexual dress and behaviour. And before anyone says it, no, I'm not telling anyone what to do, just asking for a little thought.

* Dr Glen Cupit, Senior Lecturer in Child
Development, University of South Australia. Quoted here