My aunt took aim, pointed the BB gun at the squirrel perched on her favorite feeder, and pulled the trigger. The squirrel looked up as if to say, WTF, and then fell straight down, landing on the mossy bed of pine needles and dried leaves.

“Jenny, help,” she shouted, waving the gun in the air.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“You hit him,” I said, peering out the screen door.

“I know. I know, I didn’t know.”

Lucy had been taking aim at squirrels stealing her bird food for 40 years. At most, she’d zinged the end of a feeder. One day she notched the pine tree by the bird bath.

But she’d never hit one before.

We were instructed to write something new for our last short fiction class. I thought I had it–basing my scene on an incident, using a 14-year-old’s voice. But I’m not sure I can “be” 14 again, so it was a struggle. However, I submitted last night, and I’m looking forward to our last class together this week. I’ve learned so much.

Speaking of submissions, I’d heard if a writer gets one submission for 100 rejections, she’s doing well. So I’d say to have earned these seven submissions for my 75 rejections is pretty good.

Brevity Poetry Review,

Haunted Waters Press,

Curio Poetry,

Dead Mule School of Southern Literature,

Literary Mama,

Bluestem Magazine

The Nearest Poem Anthology

As I used to say when running, onward.

So, I’ve rewritten the dental hygienist story. Here’s the opening:

            She arrives early, earlier than she needs to. Before the receptionist with the nasal whine and poor choices in sweaters.

Does it get your attention? I’m not sure I like “poor choices in sweaters,” but I’m on my fifth revision of the story, and I’m getting bored. Is that what happens? We write and write until we can’t stand it anymore?

That said, I love the class. I”ve learned so much about fiction and story-telling. I’ve been neglecting my poetry in the process, though, so after the class ends next week, I’ll pull out some works-in-progress and see what I can do.

Back to work….

 

“They bilged; they mistayed; they blew their stacks; they went down in thick and blowing weather. They were the great company of ships that have been wrecked on the rocks and reefs of the Sounds off the Rhode Island and Eastern Connecticut Coasts.”

This is the first paragraph of my grandmother’s book, published in 1973 by my dad and his two brothers to honor their mother’s memory. I’ve been thinking about this book lately, wondering how I might also use her book to develop another piece of writing. I’m learning about “moon cussing” and the “Palatine Light.”

Someone actually used her book to discover a shipwreck,  the USS Revenge, a ship once commanded by South Kingstown native Oliver Hazard Perry. Unfortunately, no news reports gave my grandmother’s name, Margaret Woodbury Carter, as the author of the book. But I will give her credit in whatever I do. She was a woman, a creative soul, who made a space in her home and life for  her grandchildren to explore and play. I will be forever grateful.