A Blazin' Friday

Sizzlin' Nuggets Fresh Off The Grill

Howdy, folks! Looks like the Sun operators have watched the Chernobyl HBO special and took away the wrong message. To sum up the forecast for today using a classic meme:

But you know what? I’m brewing a cuppa hot Joe too, and joining in the party. Nothing like a Friday in July! Here’s some sizzlin’ nuggets fresh off the literary grill.

The Sound of Judgement

The room fell silent. Fifteen faces turned down towards their pages. Out came the pens, and the scratching commenced. The sound was like chickens in the leaves, but instead of hunting for bugs, the rummaging was looking for…improvement.

Oh goodness…had I dangled a participle? Split an infinitive?

The Hill City Writers is a critique group. Members bring work to read, then everyone spends a few minutes reviewing. I had it coming, too. They should call me “Josh the Red.” Hailing from a long line of critics, one of my ancestors was nearly killed when he pointed out that the king had added an extra “E” at the end of a word. Another perished in a revolution after laughing at the manifesto the anarchists produced. “Oh, you REALLY mean you’re REALLY upset, eh comrades?” I’m not saying this is exactly true…but it could be. For better and for worse, we all were liberal with the red pen.

I had brought an introduction to a new book. It was time to get feedback.

The scratching continued. “The sound of judgement” I whispered. The leader laughed. “Josh, you’ll be the first member we have to put out in the other room while we review!”

Suddenly - it happened. The trepidation vanished. I looked around the room. The lady who was writing the murder mystery was hard at work. So was the pithy blogger. He had written a delightful bit, including a side note about artists confounding the devil, as they were miserable anyway. The man who would share a ghost story next, the woman with a Christian romance comedy in the works (I can’t wait to read it), the dude who wrote an inspired devotional, the fellow who’s mastered the art of writing a forward narrative with controlled tangents (I always get lost in the weeds when I try to add scenery like he does)….

All of these marvelous writers were lending their unique voices and talents to…help. Opinion seems a dirty word nowadays, but maybe it’s been twisted to mean “undisciplined talk inconsiderate of social propriety that I know I shouldn’t be engaging in but I’ll do it anyway.”

Here, at Hill City Writers, the opinions were actually useful, and the criticism constructive. Since when has that happened? I had always lumped the phrase in with “convenience charge.”

I was grateful and excited to hear their thoughts. And man, were they helpful. (Jen, you’ll note the paragraphs are indented in this post, too. :)

If you’re nearby, come on out to a meeting, and soak up this goodness. Although I’d critique the name slightly. Maybe “Hill City Chickens - we scratch for truth amongst the fluff”. Hmm…that doesn’t sound right. Perhaps “Writers” is best after all. I stand self-corrected.

It’s the Day to Make it Happen!

The jog this morning was quiet. The goldenrod had started to bloom by the wayside, and the chicory readied for another day in the sun. Thoughts as useless as they were abstract wafted through the ol’ cranium, when they were mercifully cut short by reality. The boys were rolling down the road in their landscaping trucks. A big wave, and a big wave back. The sound of the turbo on the diesel was invigorating, and the fumes hit me in a bracing wake. They were off to mow lawns under that nuclear sun. That snapped me to attention.

It’s time to make it happen.

Happy Friday!