Month: September 2015

To Call

To summon forth

To beckon

To phone (someone)

To call.

It’s finally the day’s finale. I looked at the dishes and dared to say no. They are in there. They are waiting. It’s like the beginning of some horror story where you can probably guess the outcome. I’ll wash them in the morning.

Have you ever looked at a fable or fairy tale and wondered what spurred the author to create it? For instance, I am in exactly the same mood that Mr. Grimm must have been in when he wrote “The Elves and the Shoe Maker.” Maybe if I leave a nice fresh cloth out with the soap right next to it, the dishes will miraculously be done when I wake up. I would definitely start leaving treats out for an elf like that. No problem.

Have you ever written a fairy tale? What state of mind or situation were you in that gave you the drive to write it?

If you have an unpublished fairy tale, the Giants and Ogres anthology has a call for submissions. The deadline is September 18, but it sounds like a lot of fun. Now that the kids are all tucked in, maybe will whip one up too.

The First Word

You know that feeling when you walk into class on the first day? Maybe you’re a new student along with all the other new students, but you are still a new student and everyone must be looking. If I could capture a picture of that feeling, it might look like an amoeba or at least something that strange. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been writing, this is my first blog post for my first blog. This is my amoeba.

Hi, I’m Lisa. If you find my writings, it will be under Lisa Andrich Olson or my maiden name, Lisa B. Andrich. I’m a mama and I’m a writer. There are a lot of us out there trying to fit in a word between all the laundry, cooking, and snuggling. There are a lot of us, and even if you aren’t a mama or a papa to lads and lasses, maybe you care for a sweet kitty, a few dogs, a goat, or the horses that just kicked through the barn door. We all have moments that don’t present themselves in the golden, choir-filled light of inspiration, but peeling off the mundane for a writer’s jewel doesn’t always have to be tough. For instance, what happened this morning? No matter what kind of mama, papa, sister, or brother you might be, something probably happened.

This was my morning: Dreaming of the news. Alarm. Dreaming of a cake. Alarm. Dreaming of waking up. Alarm. Shucks. I’m late. Slice up apples for peanut butter, wrap ballerina in her pink blanket, carry her downstairs, eat, braid hair, brush teeth, double-check the backpack, wake the baby, change a diaper, dress the sweethearts, tie some shoes, and out the door. Five minutes late. We sing some songs and I help my ballerina out of the car. There are no minutes for kisses this time, but at least she isn’t late for class.

It’s always a hustle, but there was no dress drama this time, no added knots in the shoe laces, no huge baby snots or fountain pees to clean up. It was a good morning.

So, today, I wrote about all the little things that make up a good morning in my life. What is in a good morning for you?

Want to make this a writing prompt?

Write a flash fiction piece about your morning. If your morning was entirely uneventful, visualize what might have been going on outside. Make sure your piece has a beginning, middle, and end.

Happy tapping!