F: Failure, embraced


The Wishbone Alphabet – an experiment, of course, with attitude, life and the eponymous soup.




There was a time when I thought that I might be a writer of explicit sex and horror. I have also tried my hand at constructing a romance. Some good sentences came of this; and some intriguing, disturbing short stories which I will hide in my papers to be uncovered by delighted ghoulish great children one day; but the overall attempts could reasonably be categorised as failures. These clumsy fumblings have become part of my more experienced writing though. Excursions into the barbaric and the erotic have given my pen a visceral tang, and the perils of love have made me brave enough to allow visible vulnerability (maybe I should have saved this sentence for V day!)
Once I tried to make a curry from a tin of syrupy sliced peaches, possibly the most revolting dish to emerge from any of my kitchens. From this I learnt you can take a sweet curry too far, but sometimes you can’t tell where the line is until you’ve crossed it. I think it’s quite balanced to see the line from both sides anyway. 


Comments

Huntress said…
Seems like you enjoy experimenting. The results of said experimentation? Eh, not so good.
LOL
6 April 2012 at 12:31
Sharkbytes said…
I hate to admit it, but I'm often a line-pusher myself. I'm trying to visit all the A-Z Challenge Blogs this month.
6 April 2012 at 13:09
Teresa Cypher said…
This is a wonderful post! I love it, Lily! We don't know--ever, until we cross the line. And boy oh boy, a lesson learned by crossing the line is one we don't soon forget. :-)
6 April 2012 at 16:13
Suze said…
'the perils of love have made me brave enough to allow visible vulnerability'

I am going to snatch that bit off your blog page and put it in my Bishop's bag. Hope that is okay.
6 April 2012 at 21:28
Grammy said…
Hi, I don't think I would be very good at writing erotic or esoteric love scenes. I have read some very steamy ones, but would not want my daughters, or their mates, or my grandchildren or great grandchildren knowing that kind of thoughts or language had come from my mind and mouth. I reckon maybe it ain't gonna happen. Ha. Best regards to you. Trying to hop to all the blogs before the end of the month. Ruby
6 April 2012 at 22:50
Lisa Southard said…
More thank yous due for splendid comments, fellow line crossers! If nothing else, we have some good stories from our errors! Suze- I don't know what a Bishop's bag is, but I don't have any objections to your snatching :-)
6 April 2012 at 22:54
Suze said…
I made it up for a novel. It is a leather satchel in which a young girl keeps all trinkets and small things meaningful to her.
9 April 2012 at 03:51
Lisa Southard said…
Ah- now I know and I like it! :-)
9 April 2012 at 09:36
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Contact Pants Conundrum

Image
There is weather today, I do note it: take a few moments to reckon the size of a cloud (big) and the frequency of rain (sporadic.) Centre of my interest though is a stack of magazines. Not the fashion kind. This is martial arts research. I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, but intuition calls loud. A range of old adverts skew some amusement. Contact pants, for example. Pants are not trousers where I come from. They are underwear. Professional contact pants: improved smirk value. But why would a person be likely to purchase a grappling hook and a lock pick set? For specialists and hobbyists only, the blurb assures. Guidance on the pheromone spray that attracts women against their better judgement? I doubt it works any more proficiently than the mysterious potion that defines your muscles while you sleep. But, then: I wonder is some sprayed on this paper? What was my intuition thinking, making this ghastly shout… Tea break time. There's a lot of words...
Read more

Spring Is Ticking

Image
It has been a while since I wrote a blog post - I have been writing books, and keeping a diary, the days and the work aren’t lost, just ticking quietly in a corner. [There’s a little dust in that corner but the shelf is made of strong oak planks, and the light is enchanting. A plant grows in a pot, it spouts leaves. A half candle stands in a china holder.] At Paddock Garden (properly titled Paddock Garden Orchards, I am a lazy typer) a tree corral has been constructed. It contains persimmons which may not have survived the recent cold blasts and heavy rain, along with some happy pepper trees, bladdernuts, and plum yews. We plan to underplant and interplant extensively in this concentrated area. Around the grounds also we have begun some windbreak hedges, mostly of elaeagnus and hazel. We have a line of sapling native oaks edging the spinney. The first of our camping bay areas is growing emerald grass that was seeded last autumn; the second has recently been seeded; the last three need ...
Read more

September's End

Image
September is all but done. Our fingers are purple from plucking berries, scored by thorns, sore and satisfied. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Through the cold spring, and the soggy summer, we have worked to make this place more and more beautiful. We are charming sustenance from the soil with our toiling; using the present to craft a kinder path- a tree-lined, fruit-bearing way.  And so here we are, in autumn, a time of harvest, glut, and storage. A time to plant trees, a time of festival. Our lives are seasonal, tidal, temperate, held in repetitions that are never the same; variations of repeating patterns, a common uniqueness. How lucky we are, and how grateful! Pollinator friendly saplings added to  the firepit hedge, lower field.
Read more