Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
Tonight I went out with friends for dinner and drinks – something I haven’t done in many years.
It’s important, I think, to connect with people. I consider myself lucky to have friends. Friends aren’t something I’ve had a lot of in my life, at least not since high school. Oh, I’ve had a few here and there, but the life I lead isn’t one many people can find something in common with. I’m a parent, yes, but my kids are … special. Being a writer and admitting it usually results in people looking at me as though I’ve grown an extra head.
Today has once again proven the theory that impermanence is something we can count on. In case you missed it, Doobster–he of proper grammar, eloquent blogging, Oxford comma insisting, and badge-maker extraordinaire–has gone private. His final post said pretty much nothing except that he’s taking a break and that he may or may not be back. He also said that there are things in his life that need his undivided attention.
I have to say his words hit close to home. I spend an awful lot of time here in front of my screen. The fact that real life demands more of my time on a daily basis is evident in that I have only just enough time to post. I’m behind on my comments, and I have little opportunity to visit the posts that are pinged back to my prompts, let alone all of the other blogs I really want to visit.
And so after the April A-Z challenge is finished I’m considering doing the same, perhaps just for a month. I need to get my novel finished – I haven’t touched it in weeks and before that it was weeks and before that… If I ever want to get it finished, if I ever want to sell my mother’s condo which has been sitting empty for over a year (and I’m still paying the mortgage on it), if I ever want to move forward I need to stop stagnating here. Yes, I realize that I’m keeping in practice – I’ll probably keep my fiction blog going for that purpose. It takes up minutes of my day rather than hours.
I sincerely hope that Doobster returns, but I can understand fully where he’s coming from. WordPress isn’t the be-all and end-all of life. At least it shouldn’t be.
I’ll keep you up to date with my decision. I promise not to just disappear.
How do you view your readers? As individuals just like you, sitting at a computer? Or as an audience? For that matter, at what point does a list of followers become an audience?
I think what separates the individual from the audience is the amount of interaction we have with our readers. And we have a choice… incite comments and reply back to them in a conversational manner or stand at the podium and preach, collecting “likes” like so much applause. All we need do is show up and display our brilliance.
But what if you could actually get every one of your followers into a room – or for some of you an Olympic-sized arena – and stand before them, each of them with laptops, and write your post for them to read while you watch? Or better yet, read it out loud and then interact with anyone who wishes to comment – would you feel less comfortable?
Ah, the relative anonymity of the internet, eh?
It’s interesting to think about though. That there are those who read our words, who judge without commenting; those we consider friends; people who drop by because they can relate and say so. But there’s also the surfers – the ones without WordPress accounts who read and nod or shake their heads and move on. Maybe they remember us and come back for more, or maybe we’re just like a song on the radio – one they’ll dismiss because it’s rap and they prefer country. I suppose they are our “audience.”
How do you describe the majority of your readers? Kindred spirits? Followers? Friends? People you would read your posts out loud to…?
I’ve had very few friends in my life who have stuck with me. Not one to make friends easily in the first place–I make great acquaintances–there have been not many to count on to stick with me anyway.
When I was little I had a couple of friends, then in my teenage years there were three or four of us mostly, maybe six in total. Two of those six I still speak to occasionally – my best friend John who I met when we were 17 and my friend Joe. One thing that’s remained constant in my life – I don’t make friends with women very easily. I imagine I’m not “girly” enough.
As for imaginary friends, I’m not sure if I even did those right. I’ve never had “friends” I was able to talk to… no, my imaginary friends are characters I live vicariously through. Right from childhood up until now I’ve been able to sit and create worlds, populate them with interesting people with fabulous lives, and spend time there sometimes going over and over the same scenes for hours on end. I wonder if all writers of fiction do this.
Now I have John, Joe who I text to once in a while, and my neighbour with whom I have coffee once in a blue moon. (She keeps asking me to go, bless her, even though so often I’m not able.) And I have all of you, my faraway friends on the internet. It would be interesting to meet you all in person, and see if any of you “stick.”
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday, if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are as follows:
What’s the best (or rather, worst) backhanded compliment you’ve ever received? If you can’t think of any — when’s the last time someone paid you a compliment you didn’t actually deserve?
My day started with a nightmare and a strange noise at 1:30am. The dream terrified me, the noise that I woke up to paralysed me for about five minutes. It sounded similar to my tormentor, Giggling Bob, only closer: Giggling Bob is in a box on the opposite side of the house to my bedroom. Other than not being quite the same noise, it wasn’t Bob’s usual time of 3:14. The conclusion can only be that Bob has invited a friend into the house.
So after five terror-stricken minutes, I picked up my cell phone and called my best friend John, who luckily is working nights this weekend. I wouldn’t have called him otherwise, knowing how precious sleep is. Being the nice guy he is, he talked me down from my panic to the level where I was able to put on pants and get up to check that all the doors were locked. They weren’t – the garage door was open. But after a quick trip around the house to make sure the kids and I were alone (with John still on the line) I went back to bed and, after a full hour of being on the phone, went back to sleep.
To properly explain the next part of my story, I must back up a bit. Last week I scratched the roof of my mouth. It’s been so resistant to healing, and so painful, that I decided to fast today to give it a break. Knowing that the kids would be going with their dad tonight, I wasn’t worried about being hungry well into the evening – I could go to bed early. I’m exhausted anyway from my adventure of the wee hours of the morning. Two proverbial birds with one stone and all that.
Can you hear the scratching of a record needle? Of course you can. My ex texted me to say he wasn’t coming.
In the meantime, I had a doctor’s appointment for my shoulder (which has been hurting since January) so I thought, why not ask him to take his handy-dandy light thingie and shine it in my mouth to see what’s wrong in there. One prescription later, I’m now the proud owner of something I didn’t know existed – steroid-laced dental paste.
Dry your palette with a paper towel, the pharmacist said, (eww) and then put the paste on your thumb and spread it on the roof of your mouth. But don’t try to rub it in. It has to stay there. Just a layer of paste for at least half an hour. And don’t lick it.
….
Do you have any idea what happens to your mouth when you can’t allow your tongue to touch the roof, and you’re thinking about it? You drool. Try to swallow without touching your tongue to your palette. Go ahead. Do it now.
See what I mean? Now sit like that for half an hour.
Now it’s 10:40pm on the same day I woke up terrified. I’m exhausted, waiting for Alex’s feeding pump to finish doing its thing, I’m starving, I’m drooling, and I still haven’t figured out if I have yet another possessed toy in the house to terrorize me in the middle of the night.
If I do find the toy though… it’s going home in my ex’s trunk the next time he picks up the kids. WITH Giggling Bob.
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