Once a month I invite you to play a game called Round Robin Storytelling on this blog. In case you missed it, here’s how this works: I start a story by giving you a couple of paragraphs, then stop at a critical juncture. If you want to play, go ahead and pick up the story and write (in the comments) what happens next – just a paragraph or two, no more. Then stop. Then either I or another reader of this blog will add their piece of the story, and stop. Then another person, or I, will continue. Hopefully. If no one comments, then I guess I’ll have to finish the story myself.

Now, this story is actually one already written all the way through, but that doesn’t mean this story must be this way. Other ways are possible, maybe even desirable. Want to play? Here is the beginning of a story called “How the Stupid Ostrich Discovered Fire,” a folktale from Africa.

Once long ago, or maybe only yesterday, Ostrich lived among the Bushmen of Africa. The Bushmen were small people, the size of the children of today, but they had long, long arms and strong, strong legs. And they were very smart, which is the most important thing about them.

Ostrich towered over the Bushmen, because she was the tallest of all the creatures in Africa. She had long, long legs and a long, strong neck. But she was also quite stupid, which is the most important thing about her.

At this time, oh so long ago — or maybe only yesterday — people did not know how to make fire. They did not even know there was such a thing. The only creature who knew about fire was Ostrich.

Now you may ask, how did Ostrich know about fire, if she was so stupid?

I’m eager to see what you do with the Ostrich and Fire. Look for the next Storytelling Round Robin in late December.

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Check out another short story collection available as an e-book – Childish Discoveries.(http://tinyurl.com/2523adm) Look through innocent childish eyes in these 7 short stories, and discover that those eyes may not be so innocent after all. A sandwich turns deadly, a trampoline becomes an avenger, and the hallway coat closet harbors a secret occupant. These stories and others may make you remember your own childish discoveries in the mysterious grown-up world.

Here’s the start of one of the stories, “The Trampoline.” Just the first few paragraphs – if you want to read the whole story, you have to get the collection. http://tinyurl.com/2523adm

Saturdays used to be Big Eddie’s day alone. She always spent them working out at the gym. But since the divorce Saturday was her day with Little Eddie. She had tried for Sunday, but Little Eddie’s father was stubborn. He said he wanted Sundays so he could take Little Eddie to church. The judge loved that one. Big Eddie got stuck with Saturday or nothing.

Big Eddie was afraid that if she said, “Okay, nothing,” everyone would say she was a bad mother. Little Eddie might hate her when he grew up. And even though Little Eddie was kind of a wimpy kid, he might not be so bad when he got older.

“Want to see where momma works out?” she asked Little Eddie, on their first Saturday alone together.

Little Eddie nodded. He never said much, especially to his mother. He was afraid of her. Big Eddie was really big. She was a body builder. As long as Little Eddie could remember, Big Eddie had been in training for the Women’s Body Building Championship. One year she came in third in her division, but that was not good enough for her. “Number One!” said Big Eddie, pounding her fist on the table. “I want to be Number One!”

Big Eddie’s real name was Edwina. But Little Eddie’s father had called her Big Eddie since the night she put Little Eddie’s father in a headlock and would not let him up until he said uncle. That was before Little Eddie was born, but he had heard the story many times. Now everybody called her Big Eddie. It fitted her.

Little Eddie’s father’s name was Ed too. Big Eddie called him Just Plain Ed. He was a furniture salesman. He was not much of an athlete, but Little Eddie loved him anyway. Even though he missed his mother, Little Eddie was glad he got to live most of the time with Just Plain Ed.

Except on Saturdays. From now on Saturdays were Big Eddie’s day. Little Eddie guessed he might be spending every Saturday at the gym.

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I have a weakness for science blogs, although not being a scientist, I prefer the blogs that go easy on laymen. I also have a fascination with the history of words, so when I came upon a science blog, Speakeasy Science, (http://blogs.plos.org/speakeasyscience) which is written in language I can understand, AND sported a recent article on the history of a word, I was hooked.

Here’s what I learned from Speakeasy Science about our word “plumb”, “plumbing”, and “plumber.” These words come from the Latin word “plumbum” which originally meant “malleable metal” or a metal that could easily be shaped. In common usage in ancient Rome, plumbum eventually came to mean “lead”, a malleable metal that the Romans became very fond of. You’ve heard about the much-touted plumbing systems of Rome, right? They had running water and toilets and baths when much of the rest of the world went dirty and smelly. They had these wonders because they had plumbing, and their plumbing system was made of lead pipes.

Actually this turned out to be not such a great deal for the Roman aristocracy (the commoners didn’t have as much access to the baths and plumbing system), because as we now know, lead is a poisonous substance. Lead leached into the water flowing through those pipes, and over time symptoms of lead poisoning, including madness, began to show up in the aristocracy. Some historians believe that lead poisoning may even have led to the downfall of the Roman Empire. After all, crazy emperors tend to make bad decisions.

Speakeasy Science is a wonderful blog. Science and ancient history and etymology, all at once.

Technorati Tags: writing word words history Kim Pearson blogs science layman Speakeasy Science Latin etymology ancient history
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I just published three short-story collections as e-books. Because some of these stories were over ten years old and stuck in a file while I “got around to” submitting them to magazines that publish short stories – and you know how that goes – I took them out and re-read them, and discovered they were pretty darn good. So I updated them, put them into collections, and issued them instead as e-books via Smashwords. They are available on Smashwords on http://tinyurl.com/2amrxwo and soon through Amazon – they are reborn with a new life! Exciting.

Here’s a taste of one of the short stories, from the collection “Creature Discomforts.” http://tinyurl.com/2fq6e73 Here’s what you’ll find in this collection:

Enter the strange cracked world of these enchanting short stories; a world where it is common to find a platoon of cats executing an elaborate revenge, baby alligators returning from the dead, and other discomforting glimpses into the lives of so-called ordinary creatures. These stories might stay with you a long time, like a persistent dream – or a recurring nightmare.

And here’s a taste of one of the short stories in this collection, “Miss Maud and the Three Bears.” Just the first few paragraphs to whet your curiosity . . .

Maud McKay often said that she was as tough as cougar manure and twice as nasty. Miss Maud spoke the truth in colorful, pithy phrases guaranteed to stick in the mind.

Miss Maud was born nasty, but she had learned her toughness the hard way. She was born in the early years of the last century, and had lived since then in a small logging town nestled high in the Cascade mountains of Washington State. Miss Maud was a logger, and owned her own logging company for exactly fifty years. Even after she sold the business, in 1990, she kept in shape by cutting down a tree now and then, just to prove that she could still do it.

Miss Maud McKay was a legend in Bonnington, Washington. Bonnington had been settled in the days of Teddy Roosevelt, peopled with imports from the Ozark Mountains of West Virginia, which in their day had been settled by Scotch-Irish immigrants. The people of Bonnington were genuine hillbillies: taciturn, secretive, and rude to outsiders. They kept to the old ways, an anachronistic pocket in the Northwest. Miss Maud’s birth coincided with that of the town’s. She had been a legend since her birth, and ninety years later her legend was such a pervasive part of the town’s mythology that some people (newcomers) thought she really was a myth and did not realize that there really was, or had ever been, an actual Miss Maud McKay.

When Bonnington people spoke of Miss Maud they always gave her full name and title: Miss Maud McKay. When they spoke to her, which was increasingly seldom, they were especially careful to address her as Miss Maud McKay. There were two exceptions. The first was her nephew, George. He called her Aunt Miss Maud McKay. The second was Miss Maud herself. She referred to herself as Miss Maud. There was actually a third exception, forming an interesting link in the chain of Miss Maud’s legend. It was spoken of in whispers.

I’m sorry, if you want to read the rest of Miss Maud’s adventures, you have to get the book.

Technorati Tags: writing short stories Kim Pearson StoryKim Smashwords Amazon Creature Discomforts
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