Ten-Finger Exercises

Coke machines and other carrots

Just read a fun piece by a newbie, Mad Macedonian, (#1097983) and it reminded me of a Coke machine experience of my own. Most of the things I reviewed today in fact had me telling the author what their poem brought to my mind, rather than how it flowed and what I thought of the meter, etc. Reining myself in with a critical hand, I thought I'd save this story for my blog.

I have never been a hiker. I really don't even like to take walks. How unAmerican! How unathletic--yes, that's me.

Anyway, while living in Japan on an Air Force base near Fukuoka, my husband and I stole some time away and took a hike up a nearby mountain. Well, really a hill, but steep. We could see the red Torii gate at the top. It was a hot day, and I tried to beg off part way up, but he convinced me that there was a Coke machine on top. Of course, there wasn't; but that's been a good sustaining mental prompt to get me to go a little further, figuratively as well as literally.

Started writing a second short-short story to follow one in my port called "Kitchen Conversation." I've thought about it for awhile but not put fingers to keyboard, so to speak. I have another similar theme I've been working on with an idea that seemed to promise hours of fun and it has not. Everything I wrote about the frog statues in our town came out like outlines, no real stories. So I feared the same result with "Small Talk," but it's taken an unexpected turn.

I've always wanted my stories to have minds of their own, but have seldom had the patience to let them try. Maybe that's the trouble with the frogs: too many expectations. I wanted to write a "Registry of the First Family of Frogs" for our little town newspaper, but just haven't pulled it off.

I'll have to get back to "Small Talk" this afternoon, after a trip to the post office and the library. Then I'll sit down on the deck with the laptop and a Coke.