 Short Stories: December 07, 2005 Issue [#750] |
  Short Stories
This week: Edited by: Mavis Moog  
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1. About this Newsletter
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3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
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  Merry Christmas one and all.
This newsletter is my attempt to inspire you to write some thing different this year. |
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This is my December newsletter, so I want to tell you a little Christmas story.
By the middle of this month, you may be in Dickensian over-load. Do you feel that stories like, A Christmas Carol and The Cricket on the Hearth have seeped into your shopping-weary bones and begun to hang them with boughs of holly? Or are you wishing Tiny Tim would just grow up, and someone would stamp on that cricket?
Christmas stories abound and if you haven't already written one, now might be the time to plug the hole in your portfolio. I urge you though, to try something different. Standing in the middle of a shopping mall with your notebook in hand, desperately trying to encapsulate the Christmas atmosphere is one way to ensure that your story will be full of gaudy tinsel, irritating tunes and badly behaved children. Breathing in the scent of pine needles and mulled wine may bring a glow of cosy festivity to your mind, but do you think the world needs more of this? In short, you may feel that your Christmas story needs a citric twist.
One of my most memorable Christmas days involved eating a full roast goose dinner in temperatures exceeding 80º f (27°C). We were at home in Calcutta and it was 1976. Our small party consisted of my parents and a bachelor colleague of my father's. There was no one else around our table because the bachelor, was persona-non-grata in our small community. He had been caught embezzling army pay-roll funds and was due to fly back to England for a Court Marshall. I remember the lecture I received on Christmas morning about keeping my mouth shut to avoid making any embarrassing comments about crime, dishonourable discharge or why the Goddards weren't visiting.
As the strained atmosphere added its weight to the steamy Christmas fare, I felt a terrible headache coming on. The ceiling fans wobbled threateningly overhead and my brussel-sprouts seemed to glower at me from the thick, brown slick of gravy on my plate. Sweat poured down our faces, carrying vivid dye from our soggy, paper crowns with it. Finally I had to excuse myself from the table and ran from the room, with a hand clutched to my mouth. I made the verandah just in time. My dinner, which looked like it had consisted of pure spinach, found a new home amongst the begonias.
I sat on a wicker chair and tried to recover my composure. As parakeets screeched in the kapok tree my head pounded. My hands, which lay limply on the chair arms, were blue-white. I heard a noise and turned to see the bachelor criminal standing in the doorway.
"At least Christmas in England is cool." he said, and smiled sadly down at me. In his hand he held the screwed-up remnants of his paper crown.
I tell you this story to illustrate a small point. We so often associate Christmas with sleigh-bells and celebration. We even try to acknowledge poverty and loss and remember to do something charitable, but it's the incongruous moments that stand out in our memory. I hope you all have an excellent holiday and that your stories crush a few crickets this year.
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When I select a story for this section, I am recommending it. That means that it must impress me. I will not choose stories that have lots of errors or that do not strike me as interesting. If you would like to see your work featured here, please polish it first. When you are entirely happy that it is an outstanding short story, submit it.
Here are this month's picks. They were entered in a recent contest I ran, and all achieved an honourable mention or better.
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Have an opinion on what you've read here today? Then send the Editor feedback! Find an item that you think would be perfect for showcasing here? Submit it for consideration in the newsletter!
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Thank you scarlett_o_h for these encouraging words,
Great Newsletter yet again Mavis. Very informative with wonderful examples and clearly written. Congratulations on becoming a Comedy Newsletter Editor too. I look forward to that and to reading the winners of your competition.
schipperke has some great reading ahead of her.
This one is a keeper, Mavis. I will have to read and review all the stories you picked.
Christine L. enjoyed last month's editor's picks.
Great newsletter! And wow---some truly good writing was found through that contest! Keep up the great work!
Peace,
Christine
A question from aconicalbathtub
Do you know what it's called when you thinks something is about to rhyme but then it doesn't? (ie "Please keep off of the grass, shine your shoes, wipe your... FACE.") There's a literary term for it but I have no idea what it is...
I would call it anti-climax, but there may be a better term. Any ideas anyone? - MM
Leighoire is looking for a special contest.
Hi there, loved the tips on imagery in this newsletter. Please advise on short story contests where word content can be over 8000. Thanks again.
I think the word limit is often around 3,000 because judging would be too lengthy a process if the stories were as long as 8,000 words or more. Are there any contests for longer short stories? Or maybe Leighoire's plea will encourage you to run such a contest. - MM
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