Yesterday was ‘100’ at school, and in honor of it, the twins had the following ‘Writing Bug’ assignment: ‘Happy 100th birthday! Would you want to be 100 years old?’
Brooke wrote:
I would never want to be 100. I would be old. The worst part of being 100 is you will sick easyer. I will rather be 20 than 100 years of old. Insted of smooth you would be recled (wrinkled) witch I don’t like. I would love to be smooth I would hate to be old.
Paige wrote:
We alwase have a chiold (cold) and will ware more chap stick. We will die shortly. I wold have strate long hare and pink lip stick and I’ll have a green dress and I’ll still have my necless that has my brown hart that’s made out of shells. I’ll live next door of Kendall’s hous. My life wold be different because I’ll live some ware els and my parents wold be ded.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
ANDREW A.
EMAIL ME. STOP. HAVE LOST YOUR ADDY. STOP. URGENTLY NEED TO DISCUSS PLAN TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. STOP. AND OTHER IMPORTANT TOPICS. STOP.
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Royal Phams
Here are some pictures from a renaissance birthday party we hosted for Hunter and Fisher. As the photographical evidence plainly shows, it was good fun, owing mainly to Wendy's sense of creativity and her exhaustive preparation (even though she was sick). For example: the guy in stocks, whom my lovely eldest daughter is preparing to decapitate, was actually a pinata with Trieau's facial features blown-up, cut-out, and pasted-on from Photoshop. The tomatoes were mini-pinatas provided for the unruly mob to throw at the malefactor.
+=--
Nice job, Wendy, and nice job, Cindy - for making our house clean and presentable-like so that they wouldn't be no beer bottles and candy wrappers and stains and crumbs all over. Wouldn't want the relation knowin how we really live.
+=--
Friday, February 15, 2008
A night in the life.
I got a cute note last night and now I'm using it for a bookmarker.
Backstory: The kids didn't have school today so last night, the twins tried to stay up late enough to see me when I got out of work. They didn't make it. They ended up in bed with Cindy instead. But on the counter, I found this note:
"Dear Dady. Pleas move me in the living room koch and move my pilloe and blanket on the living room koch. From: Paige Veen"
Here's a recent picture of the kids, cuz I haven't posted anything on Veenie Babies in almost a year.
Backstory: The kids didn't have school today so last night, the twins tried to stay up late enough to see me when I got out of work. They didn't make it. They ended up in bed with Cindy instead. But on the counter, I found this note:
"Dear Dady. Pleas move me in the living room koch and move my pilloe and blanket on the living room koch. From: Paige Veen"
Here's a recent picture of the kids, cuz I haven't posted anything on Veenie Babies in almost a year.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Big Plain V's first writing post
So I’ve been making this exhausting effort to improve my writing this last year: classes, writer’s groups, books on writing, writing websites, and the like. After a lot of sacrifices and a lot of hard work, I think I’m finally starting to see some results. Check out these two excerpts and tell me how I’m doing.
One is from when I thought I was good enough, the other is current – now that I know how much is left to learn.
2nd draft
Everything here was made out of rope and rotting wood set against rock that was so gray it was almost blue. A cluttered town pressed in on her from all sides, hanging overhead, tumbling many levels beneath her, and unrolling a great distance to her either side. It’s height and length were immense, but strangely enough, the town was not very wide across. The reason for this was obvious. Less then a hundred feet in front of her, the ground ended and the namesake of this brugh began.
The entire town was built between the faces of two massive, opposing cliffs. Where she was now, the buildings were carved out of the grayish-blue rock of the cliff, yet the bulk of the town hung on a dubious network of ropes and platforms in the center of the endless chasm. Blocks of living structures dotted the open air of the chasm, some tilted awkwardly, and others hanging at weird angles, but all of them looking as though they could simply snap and drop away at any moment. Sagging catwalks criss-crossed between clusters of shabby buildings, woven together on a spider’s web of dangerously frayed ropes. Xierna suddenly felt like it’d be safer to turn around than to go out across the swaying, decaying bridges. She quickly checked the pass-warde, and just as she expected, it pointed out across the tangle of sloppy buildings hanging in the abyss.
(236 words)
5th draft
She was in an alley, between buildings carved from rock so gray it was almost blue. A short distance away were a few wooden structures that sagged in disrepair, and beyond them, a dark, wide open space with many more buildings that seemed to be slowly rising and falling. Her first thought was that perhaps she was at the shore of an underground sea and that the far buildings were floating in the surf. Then her eyes found a distant wall in the darkness and she realized that she had entered Chasm-brugh; the town swayed because it was hanging on a network of ropes and platforms, strung between massive, underground cliffs.
Even from a few blocks away, Xierna could tell that the shabby houses and shops were simply tied together, dangling in the open air like a ton of garbage caught in a fisherman’s net. Sagging catwalks and rope bridges criss-crossed between the buildings and joined them to the edges of the chasm, but they looked unstable, untrustworthy. A slight breeze fondled the torch-lit structures, causing them to gently twist and bounce to the sounds of creaking ropes. It also carried the unmistakable odor of mildew and moist wood.
Everything here was decaying.
(203 words)
One is from when I thought I was good enough, the other is current – now that I know how much is left to learn.
-------------------------------------
2nd draft
Everything here was made out of rope and rotting wood set against rock that was so gray it was almost blue. A cluttered town pressed in on her from all sides, hanging overhead, tumbling many levels beneath her, and unrolling a great distance to her either side. It’s height and length were immense, but strangely enough, the town was not very wide across. The reason for this was obvious. Less then a hundred feet in front of her, the ground ended and the namesake of this brugh began.
The entire town was built between the faces of two massive, opposing cliffs. Where she was now, the buildings were carved out of the grayish-blue rock of the cliff, yet the bulk of the town hung on a dubious network of ropes and platforms in the center of the endless chasm. Blocks of living structures dotted the open air of the chasm, some tilted awkwardly, and others hanging at weird angles, but all of them looking as though they could simply snap and drop away at any moment. Sagging catwalks criss-crossed between clusters of shabby buildings, woven together on a spider’s web of dangerously frayed ropes. Xierna suddenly felt like it’d be safer to turn around than to go out across the swaying, decaying bridges. She quickly checked the pass-warde, and just as she expected, it pointed out across the tangle of sloppy buildings hanging in the abyss.
(236 words)
-------------------------------------
5th draft
She was in an alley, between buildings carved from rock so gray it was almost blue. A short distance away were a few wooden structures that sagged in disrepair, and beyond them, a dark, wide open space with many more buildings that seemed to be slowly rising and falling. Her first thought was that perhaps she was at the shore of an underground sea and that the far buildings were floating in the surf. Then her eyes found a distant wall in the darkness and she realized that she had entered Chasm-brugh; the town swayed because it was hanging on a network of ropes and platforms, strung between massive, underground cliffs.
Even from a few blocks away, Xierna could tell that the shabby houses and shops were simply tied together, dangling in the open air like a ton of garbage caught in a fisherman’s net. Sagging catwalks and rope bridges criss-crossed between the buildings and joined them to the edges of the chasm, but they looked unstable, untrustworthy. A slight breeze fondled the torch-lit structures, causing them to gently twist and bounce to the sounds of creaking ropes. It also carried the unmistakable odor of mildew and moist wood.
Everything here was decaying.
(203 words)
-------------------------------------
I feel a little like Happy Gilmore. In the movie, he had this amazing slapshot that translated into an amazing golf drive, but his efforts on the green were pathetic. I think I have a strong creative gift, which translates into tons of cool story ideas, but my writing skills have totally been holding me back. Now that I’ve learned to see where my mistakes are, and can wrestle them into basic functionality, I feel like Happy did when he told Shooter McGavin, “Uh-oh, somebody learned how to putt.”
I feel a little like Happy Gilmore. In the movie, he had this amazing slapshot that translated into an amazing golf drive, but his efforts on the green were pathetic. I think I have a strong creative gift, which translates into tons of cool story ideas, but my writing skills have totally been holding me back. Now that I’ve learned to see where my mistakes are, and can wrestle them into basic functionality, I feel like Happy did when he told Shooter McGavin, “Uh-oh, somebody learned how to putt.”
A Shameless Ploy by Ray Veen
When you Google "Ray Veen" these days, this is the first link that comes up. So if you're looking for me or my blog, good news, you're within spitting distance.
Just click here, and your journey shall draw to its conclusion.
Welcome to Ray Veen's newer blog. Don't be puzzled if Ray Veen types the words 'Ray Veen' a lot in this firstish post because Ray Veen thinks that if people that know Ray Veen or want to know Ray Veen should happen to google the words 'Ray Veen' then this post about Ray Veen will show up. Ray Veen hopes that this is so; otherwise Ray Veen has foolishly wasted his time typing 'Ray Veen' over and over, to the point that Ray Veen is sick of his own name: Ray Veen.
Hmmm... Ray Veen thinks he will try it now.
Just click here, and your journey shall draw to its conclusion.
Welcome to Ray Veen's newer blog. Don't be puzzled if Ray Veen types the words 'Ray Veen' a lot in this firstish post because Ray Veen thinks that if people that know Ray Veen or want to know Ray Veen should happen to google the words 'Ray Veen' then this post about Ray Veen will show up. Ray Veen hopes that this is so; otherwise Ray Veen has foolishly wasted his time typing 'Ray Veen' over and over, to the point that Ray Veen is sick of his own name: Ray Veen.
Hmmm... Ray Veen thinks he will try it now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)