Paige Hawthorne: Blog

Flash-fiction -- particularly the six-word story -- is fun and challenging. The most famous one is almost certainly improperly credited to Ernest Hemingway. The legend is that he won a bar bet from some writer-pals in the 1920s. However, versions of the tale date back to the early 1900s.

The story:

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Interestingly, most people interpret it as something sad. A miscarriage, a tragic accident, a death of a parent, etc. But it could be that... oh, I don't know... a healthy baby was born with large feet.

Think positive,

Paige

Not to be confused with Epistrophe.

Diacope — take one word or phrase, put something in the middle, and repeat the phrase.

“Run, Toto, Run!”

“Bond, James Bond.”

And one that’s been around for a while …

“To be … or not … to be.”

You’re welcome,

Paige

Despite petitions, lawsuits, marches, boycotts, hunger strikes, threats of physical violence, membership resignations, sit-ins, walkouts write-ins, runouts, stoppages, and protests in the streets, the unthinkable has happened. Again.

For the sixth year in a row, the Big Clit finds me listed in the Author of the Year column. Yep — time for my annual humiliation. Why not double-dip it? I’m in that Lifetime thing too.

Plus, one of my stories limped into contention in two or three categories. Unfortunately, only one of my remaining three readers is able to figure out how to vote.

Once again, no one will be shouting, “Habemus Papam!” in my direction.

Paige

To click on the SOL Home Page, bad news strikes again. I’ve gone against my better judgement — and countless reader-pleas — and allowed my Research Department to unearth, and post, a major update of “Part 2— The Real Housewives of Sausalito, Mississippi”.

The 35,000-word addition can be found in Chapter 348, if any of you masochists are up for more punishment. Come to think of it, it’s in Chapter 348 whether you read it or not.

Fair warning … this (very) naughty spoof of religious zealots is unedited. It is too … something … for the delicate sensitivities of normal editors.

Proceed at your own risk,

Paige

In Tracy Daugherty’s riveting biography — “Larry McMurtry — A Life” — he cites McMurtry’s philosophy of writing. One example, in a letter to his friend, Ken Kesey, McMurtry said, “For me the novel is character creation. Style is nice, plot is nice, structure is okay, social significance is okay, symbolism worms its way in, timeliness is okay too, but unless the characters convince and live the book’s got no chance.”

At a posh Georgetown party, he overheard a famous Washington, D. C. hostess say, “Good God … I’d rather fuck him than read him.”

Another observation, “I consider it a process of discovery, writing a novel. But I always start with the ending,” he said. “I get tremendous surprises.”

In 1986, McMurtry was invited to speak at a small college in Uvalde, Texas. Yes, that Uvalde. He was staying at the Holiday Inn, where their marque read, “Welcome to Larry Mcmurty, Author of “Terms of Endearment.”

During a lunch break on campus, he learned he’d just been awarded the Pulitzer Prize for “Lonesome Dove.” The next day he was told that the hotel had upgraded their marque — “Catfish Special, $3.99.”

Paige