On Clever Writing

I recently read a book called Three Men in a Boat. (To say nothing of  the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome. (His parents were so original with his name.)  This highly amusing book made me laugh out loud several times. It even made my older sister laugh out loud when she read it. That must mean it's funny.  And I don't mean lol-you-may-have-just-cracked-a-smile-or-perhaps-let-out-an-amused-snort laughing out loud. I mean tears-running-down-your-face, wouldn't-want-to-read-this-book-in-public-for-fear-of-looking-like-you're-crazy laughing out loud.

I read another of his books which is a compilation of some essay-type writings.  They too were funny. I decided I would like to try to write something copying his style of writing, so I did. I don't know how well I accomplished that, but it was fun to write.  You should definitely NOT judge his books by this next piece of writing I'm going to share. 

On Clever Writing

By Melody Beerbower, March 22, 2012

    Often I feel like writing something clever, but whenever I sit down and decide, "I think I shall write something clever today." nothing comes to mind.

    However, when I'm snuggled down in bed with the covers wrapped cozily about me, my mind wanders and I think up the cleverest things. They make me chuckle and I think I should like to write them down-- only my bed is too warm and I haven't any paper and pencil handy. So I leave it till morning. As a precaution I replay the words in my head -over and over- even picturing how they would look on paper.  I drift off to sleep and my dreams are filled with it. It winds it's way in and out of them in the strangest fashion.

   When I awake in the morning I have a haunting feeling that there is something I've forgotten, and that I had imagined something very clever last night, but I can't quite grasp it.

   Well, that's the way it goes with dreams.  I remember one time I had the most enjoyable and fantastic dream.  I was quite excited by it. When I awoke I lay with my eyes closed, replaying the most interesting parts in my head. I reviewed everything very closely so as to make sure I would remember it. Then I opened my eyes. 

  Have you ever noticed how the sophisticated  light of day vanishes all the fancies of the night? Try as hard as I might to conjure up my dream all I could produce was a vague impression of danger and romance and a chase and some great sacrifice on my part. Who or what I had sacrificed myself for I do not know, but it must have been something noble because I felt so grand inside.

   Now bedtime is not the only time Cleverness strikes.  It often happens at such convenient times like when I'm sitting in the car wishing I had brought along some bit of paper and a pencil to jot down my ingenious ideas. Of course had I brought them, my mind would be blank and my paper merely covered in doodles.

   Often it sneaks up on me when I'm talking,or rather listening, to a particularly dull person. And I'm paying more attention to how the end of their mountainous nose bobs up and down as they speak, or how they have a stray piece of dandruff below their hair line, and have made a rather half-hearted attempt at applying their makeup today. The person generally is too busy talking to notice I'm not paying attention, and I'm too busy not paying attention --being caught up in all my clever musings-- to notice how remarkable it is he hasn't noticed yet.

  And so cleverness comes and goes...and some are more clever than others to capture it and put it down on paper.

This is me sitting on our chicken coop writing a song called "An Awkward Day", which I may or may not post depending on my gumption. (And yes, I'm wearing red pants.)

When The Clock Struck One

This is a story I wrote in 2009 some time.  My oldest sister wrote the last five sentences for a pretend ending for some school paper of my younger sister.  I stole them, and wrote this story based of of them.

When the Clock Struck One

By the one and only Melody Beerbower

            The clock struck one. One a.m. It was then that the Morris family remembered that they were to be evicted at two. Jumping out of bed and scrambling into his clothes, Norman rushed to wake his three children. He rapidly dressed his youngest child in all the clothes she had, the other children doing the same. His wife ran around in a frightened state packing, unpacking, repacking.

 Being irresponsible and headstrong, Norman was never able to keep a job, so here they were six months behind on the rent, hardly any food and little money to buy that necessity. And now in just half an hour they were going to lose their house. The minuets flew by like seconds. Norman called to his wife. The children were ready. They all gathered in a solemn group in the living room. He was about to speak, when a resounding knock was heard on the front door. Mrs. Morris almost screamed!

 Norman talked to her in a cool, reassuring voice. “Take the children out the back door and run to where we hid the wagon. I will stay here and stall them.”

“No! Come with us.” she implored in a low voice. Knock! Knock! Knock!  

“Open up!” a bumming voice cried, “Open up in the name of the king! I have orders to throw you out and arrest Norman till the debt is paid!”

“You know what,” Norman whispered to his frightened wife, “I think I’ll run with you now.”

Quietly they opened the backdoor and shut it again when everyone was out. They walked swiftly and quietly until they were out of sight of the house. Then picking up the youngest child they ran. They ran for what seemed like hours, but actually was only a few minutes. When they found the wagon they sped off at top speed.

Crossing the state border Norman thought their trouble was over.  But then something shining in the moon light loomed before them, a dark, rushing mysteriously wild thing that sparkled cruelly in the moon light. The hungry waters boiling, churning, foaming, looked like they wanted to swallow them alive. Norman pulled up short afraid to go on, not able to turn back. Just then he heard a cry. Not waiting to see if it was them or not, he urged the terrified horses forward into the raging current. He instantly regretted his decision. The infuriated waves beat the wagon back and forth.

Oh, the fear! Oh the terror! Disaster struck! The wagon tipped! They all fell into the ragging water and in one terrible second all were drowned never to be seen again by mortal eyes.

I realize people are not normally evicted at two in the morning, but it was just for a dramatic effect.  Also, why they did not pack sooner I don't know.

The White Camel of Camelot

It's hard to keep a blog.  And yes, I realize I have not posted anything in a long time.  But as no one's life depends on my posting something, and there are more important things to do in life than post goofy poems few people read, I have not made any zealous efforts to post.  Enough of that.  I'm here now, and I shall publish something.  I haven't written anything much lately, so I shall pull from my old store of writings.

 Let me take you back through the years to a time where knights were brave, maidens fair, and evil dukes abounded...

The White Camel of Camelot

By Melody Beerbower, October 5, 2010

It was long ago in a camel lot.

A dark, stormy knight and his maiden fair 

Searched for a camel in that lot,

All covered with snow white hair.

The moon was raised above the trees,

Spreading its silvery glow.

From a sky as vast as the sea,

It watched the fugitives down below.  

The danger was great and the search was long

So many camels were in that lot.

But close by the gate the white camel was found,

The greatest camel in the camel lot.

To the back of the camel the knight lifted his maid,

And kissing her hand implored,

“My dearest, please do not be afraid.

I’ll save you from that cowardly lord.”

Then he to mounted the camel’s back.

Down the road it started to trot.

It headed through the woods to a little shack,

Far from the camel lot.

Suddenly, there was a noise,

Like a mighty rushing sea.

“Oh no!” cried the maid, “We will both be destroyed.

“That’s Lord Rhup coming after me.”

 

“Fear not! He shall not catch us.

Fly on my glorious steed!

Kick up your heels! Let fly the dust!

What we need right now is speed!”

 The camel ran on with clumsy grace.

Lord Rhup’s stallions catching with ease.

Never was there such a slow race,

Weaving in and out of the trees.

 

It’s true the white camel’s the best in the camel lot’

If to go a great distance you need,

For endurance and strength— these things he has got,

But the thing that he lacks is the speed.

The moon looked down on the scene with wrath.

Who he was trying to help no one could tell,

For as he brightened the fugitives path,

He lit up Lord Rhup’s as well.

 

 Soon the fugitives came to a glen

Surrounded by massive trees.

They were also surrounded by Lord Rhup and his men,

When the white camel fell to his knees.

Angered the knight jumped from the camel’s back,

Drawing his glittering sword.

He shouted, “You shall not take the fair maiden back

That is my solemn word!’

 

Lord Rhup just smiled and looked at his men,

And all the bows he had there.

“I think not,” he said and smiled again,

As a dozen arrows were loosed through the air.

The dark knight and his maiden fair

Fell there side by side,

Killed by the arrows that flew through the air.

Together they lived. Together they died.

As the moon slipped behind the last rolling hill,

The knight came to an end. It was all for naught.

He and his maiden lay still,

Next to the white camel from the camel lot.   

That's all for today.
~Melody