Forgive me for being teacherly, but I’m an English teacher. When I started writing fiction, what, 30, 40? years (I accidentally typed “tears”) ago, I marveled at the stateliness and sure-footedness of the prose I was reading. Mine was stumpy and lurching. The masters are still the masters, and there’s no substitute for gigantic talent, but sometimes there’s a happy accident. I was lucky in submitting three flashes to Ellen Parker and being nudged to write (and more deeply imagine) better sentences and situations. Here is a shortened version of the journey helped along by the editing of Ellen and my husband.
The ending of “Accidents” in January was:
He patted her knee. Maybelle meowed in her cage and settled down. “She’s a good creature,” he said. (Ellen thought that patronizing and I agreed.)
In February that became:
He rested his hand on her knee. Maybelle meowed in her cage. He turned to pet her and she settled down. “She’s a good creature,” he said.
And then:
Maybelle meowed in her cage. He turned to pet her and she settled down. “She’s a good creature,” he said. He rested his hand on her knee.
And then:
Maybelle meowed. He turned to pet Maybelle’s chin with one finger through the wire bars of her cage. “She’s such a good cat. She puts up with us and the cage.”
And then:
Maybelle meowed. He turned to pet Maybelle’s chin with one finger through the wire bars of her carrier. “She’s such a good cat. She puts up with us and the cage.”
And then:
Maybelle meowed in her cage. He turned to pet her and she settled down. “She’s a good creature,” he said. He rested his hand on her knee.
And then:
Maybelle meowed. He knelt on the front seat facing her. “She’s such a good cat. She puts up with us and the cage.”
And then:
Maybelle meowed in her carrier. He clicked his tongue as he talked to Maybelle and stuck his fingers into the front of the carrier. She raised herself up from the back, moved to the door of the carrier, and pressed her head against his wiggling fingers. “She’s a good creature,” he said.
And then:
Maybelle meowed. He got on his knees on the front seat and faced her. “She’s such a good cat. She puts up with us and the cage.”
And then:
Maybelle meowed in her carrier. Eddie clicked his tongue as he talked to Maybelle and stuck his fingers into the front of the carrier. She raised herself up from the back, moved to the door of the carrier, and pressed her head against his wiggling fingers. “She’s a good creature,” he said.
And then:
Maybelle meowed in her carrier. Eddie stuck his fingers into the front of the carrier. She raised herself up from the back, moved to the door of the carrier, and pressed her head against his wiggling fingers. “She’s a good creature,” he said.
And finally:
Maybelle meowed in her carrier. Eddie chirped to her and stuck his fingers into the front of the carrier. She raised herself up from the back, moved to the door of the carrier, and pressed her head against his wiggling fingers. He turned and sat forward. “She’s a good creature,” he said.
And that’s enough of Maybelle and Eddie.
So if you’re a neophyte writing for only 30 years, take hope.
