Writing Wrongs

June 18, 2007

Saturday night, Kyra and I wrote a story. Or rather, she sat on my lap and dictated while I typed. It started like this:

It was a spooky night and I went out.
I was kind of fashionable and I was wearing a sneaky suit--a black suit.

If only Bulwer-Lytton thought to include sneaky suits in Paul Clifford, I’m sure it wouldn’t be the ridicule-fest that it is today.

I won’t post the entire 377-word saga, which has no title but three chapters. It does involve a monster, although he’s more of a monster with clay feet since he’s easily distracted by tea and the need to use the potty (probably from all that tea).

In those 377 words, we cover monsters, balls and ball gowns, beautiful boys who turn out to be bad, a bad castle, a big evil mouse, a deus ex machina for getting away from the bad castle/mouse (Kyra had the key in her pocket), cheerleaders, princesses, and lovely boys (who, unlike the beautiful ones, are not bad--so young, and yet so wise).

My favorite part is the hook with the sneaky suit. I so want a sneaky suit. I mean, who wouldn’t? Especially one that’s kind of fashionable.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 1:07 p.m.