I have no problem writing short. Writer friends who bemoan having to trim their 250,000 word drafts to an acceptable 150,000 get no sympathy from me. My first drafts read like outlines. They require filling out with several rounds of revision to add details of character and description.
I blame my brevity on my legal background. Briefs to the Court are usually subject to strict page limits. The Statement of Facts must include every fact on which you rely in the Legal Argument that follows. Fitting all that, plus citations, with one-inch margins and 12-point font, into the prescribed length is a challenge. They don't call them briefs for nothing.
I also ascribe my spare writing style to Strunk & White's Elements of Style. This little book has been required reading for aspiring writers since the 1920's. Advice such as "omit needless words," "do not overwrite," and "do not explain too much" are engraved on my heart. A friend in my critique group echoes Messrs. Strunk and White when she tells me to take out all the adverbs: "They are just excuses for weak verbs."
So imagine my pleasure when my local paper, the Cascadia Weekly ran a writing competition called "Fiction 101": entries must not be longer than 101 words. My entry "Flight Risk" was an Editors' Pick. It is reproduced in its entirety in the sidebar. I hope you enjoy—it's a quick read.
"In case we're separated." He handed her a boarding pass and the smaller of the bags. "Don't worry. I'll be right behind you."
He nodded towards the crowds lining up for Security, and smiled, white teeth and crinkly eyes—the smile she'd fallen in love with.
"Papers, please." She handed passport and boarding pass to the agent, her glance back blocked by the crush of travelers.
At the gate, she waited until the last group boarded. Maybe she'd missed him and he was already on the plane. She scanned the passengers as she shuffled up the aisle, realization dawning.
This year's book, Timothy Egan's The Big Burn, inspired the theme of hindsight. Some writers wrote with regret of questions not asked, paths not taken. Others looked back with humor and gratitude.
I wrote about my friend Edith Zwartendijk, the daughter of a Dutch diplomat who saved the lives of over two thousand Jews in Lithuania during World War Two. Only after his death in 1976, did Jan Zwartendijk's heroic story come to light. Edith, now 92 years old, unveiled a memorial to her father last June in Kaunas, Lithuania. A biography of her father, already available in Dutch, will be published in English this year.
To read my essay Memorial , included in this year's WHATCOM WRITES anthology, please click on the title in the navigation bar. Or you can purchase the complete anthology at Village Books.
Thanks to friend and blogger Dawn Landau (Tales From The Motherland) for the idea of making a list of all the things I'm grateful for, starting off the New Year with intention.
Snow, which transforms trash heaps into beauty, and moonlit nights into magic.
Sunshine in winter, a rare and welcome gift in the PNW.
My granddaughters, so smart, so different, so beautiful, inside and out.
Reading, especially mysteries.
My mystery book group.
Writing, the ultimate escape.
My writing group.
Air travel, in the window seat on a clear day. What a miracle!
Air travel to distant places; this year, Amsterdam, Utrecht, London, the Dordogne, Devon, Montreal. So lucky.
Food, eating and cooking it. And growing it too.
British TV dramas, so superior whether costume/historical/ classics or gritty detective/psychological thrillers.
National Theatre Live at the movies.
My dog: we keep each other healthy and unconditionally loved.
My house, too big, driveway too steep, but I love it.
Mountains from a distance: they take my breath away.
My resistance group: what a bunch of inspiring women activists!
Young people, especially the ones I've met this year: Planned Parenthood teen Council, Students For Action, and others who are fighting for a better future.
The New York Times, Washington Post, Methow Valley News and journalists everywhere who hold the standards of accuracy and integrity.
My good health, touch wood.
The good health of my family.
The closeness of Canada, where I can go for a breath of sanity and reasonable prescription drug prices.
My Le Creuset casserole, lovely to look at and transforms beef stew into Boeuf Bourgignon.
Skyping with my sister each Sunday morning.
A spa pedicure
What are you grateful for? Grab pen and paper (or computer keyboard) and set the timer.