Ginger Dehlinger's Blog, page 3
January 14, 2022
Hyperbole
Hyperbole is defined as “extravagant exaggeration used as a figure of speech.” For me, it is also the highest form of humor, one that makes me laugh out loud when other attempts fail. My favorite comedian, Dave Barry, is a master at this type of humor. Comparing skiing and snowboarding, he writes, “Whereas with snowboarding, all you get is one board, which is shaped like a giant tongue depressor.”
Exaggeration doesn’t have to be humorous. It also can be used to describe something so vividly the reader can almost taste it. (oops, a bit of hyperbole on my part) F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “Her voice is full of money,” used to describe Daisy’s voice in The Great Gatsby, is a good example.
Hyperbole is extremely effective when it comes to producing drama as in Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five when he describes the bombing of Dresden, Germany during WWII. “There was a fire-storm out there. Dresden was one big flame. The one flame ate everything organic, everything that would burn.”
As a writer, I like to think the phrase “a picture is worth a thousand words” is an example of hyperbole, a challenge, if you will. If I have the audacity to call myself a writer, why can’t I describe something so perfectly the reader doesn’t need a picture to see it in his or her mind’s eye? Then I come across a cartoon like the one below and realize I might write ten thousand words and never achieve the effect of this one stroke of genius that pokes fun at the Covid-19 pandemic while simultaneously making us aware of another invasion.
December 5, 2021
A Truly Wonderful Surprise
When I learned that a short story I wrote was a finalist in the 2022 Great American Fiction Contest (The Saturday Evening Post) I was surprised. Not that I didn't have faith in my story, but I was certain it had been rejected. According to the Post's submission guidelines, non-winners would not be notified due to the large number of submissions the contest receives every year.
I had submitted "Francine" last June. Around the first of October I thought I would check to see if the winners had been announced, and there they were for all the world to see--the winners of the 2021 Great American Fiction Contest. I had forgotten my submission was for the 2022 contest. I was disappointed, however being used to having my work rejected, I moved on.
I was contemplating other places I might submit "Francine," and so it was quite a shock when, on October 28th, I received the following email from Patrick Perry, Executive Editor of The Saturday Evening Post:
Y ou are a finalist in the 2022 Great American Fiction Contest (GAFC). The panel of judges is reviewing the stories now. In mid-November, we will announce the winner, runners up, and honorable mentions in the GAFC.
Since first learning about the GAFC, I had planned to enter "Francine." Set in my home town of Klamath Falls, Oregon, the story was a perfect match for the contest's qualifying statement:
Entries should be character- or plot-driven pieces in any genre of fiction. Think local. The Post has historically played a role in defining what it means to be an American. Your story should in some way touch upon the publication’s mission: Celebrating America — past, present, and future.
Stupidly, I missed the deadline for the 2021 contest and held onto "Francine" for an entire year before submitting it in June. I had confidence in my story. It had received an honorable mention from Glimmer Train in 1919.
We really enjoyed "Francine" and are pleased to tell you that it made the Honorable Mention list, which puts it in the top 10% of the entries in this Fiction Open - congratulations!
However, being a realist, I wasn't confident enough in my work to imagine it receiving higher than another honorable mention in the GAFC. Therefore, I was shocked again when I received a second email November 10th from Patrick Perry:
The votes are in. It's official. You are 1st runner up in the 2022 Saturday Evening Post Great American Fiction contest. Congratulations! It was a very competitive contest, one brimming with exceptional talent.
Needless to say, I'm thrilled. If you'd like to read "Francine," it will be published in the magazine's January/February online edition. https://www.saturdayeveningpost.com/
November 7, 2021
May Books Live Forever
Webster’s Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary defines the word book as “a written or printed work of some length, as a treatise, novel, or other literary composition, especially on consecutive sheets of paper fastened or bound together in a volume.” The reference work continues for half a column with a list of alternate uses of the word—book of cards, book of tickets, book of accounts, by the book, book a flight, etc. There is no mention of e-book because my old well-used copy of the dictionary was published in 1983, two decades before Amazon launched Kindle.
I have a Kindle reader. Its content gives me almost the same pleasure as a conventional book, but I miss the smell and feel of paper in my hands. And when I finish reading an e-book, I can’t store it on my bookshelf, preserve a visual reminder of what takes place inside.
This month I received an email that included several cartoons illustrating how conventional books are losing favor, especially with the younger generations. The first two cartoons satirize what I hope isn’t actually happening in this age of ubiquitous technology. The third, imagines the first two are true and what that truth might look like when residents of some future dystopic culture discover a long-lost conventional book. Note the endurance of cell phones in cartoon number three.
As Jane Austen wrote in Pride and Prejudice, “I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! -- When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
Here's to libraries of the future. May their stacks be lined with tangible, mostly paper books.
September 22, 2021
Persistence VS Creativity
A quotation I find especially useful for writers is this one from Calvin Coolidge.
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not: unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.”
Calvin Coolidge was one of America's least heralded presidents, but I, being one who is not afraid to submit my writing for publication, have made his words my mantra. My goal is to submit something, could be one poem, one short story or a group of poems, at least once a week. I’ve had tons of rejections, but since 2018, when I began submitting my work in earnest, I have had two short stories, two essays, one guest column and fifteen poems published in various journals and anthologies. I haven’t broken into the “big leagues” when it comes to the publishers who have accepted my work, but I keep trying.
Is my writing not creative enough to be selected? I sometimes tell myself my writing measures up but my credentials don’t. If I can’t cite having been published by Rattle, Atlantic Monthly, Paris Review, Tin House or other prestige publications, why would those magazines want to include my writing in their pages?
At times like these I refer to another source of inspiration, the words of Ira Glass, host of the series This American Life. Ira Glass is a brilliant reporter who has won praise for his radio and television work, among them being The Edward R. Murrow Award for Outstanding Contributions to Public Radio. The excerpt below, drawn from one of his programs, is what he has to say about creativity.
“What nobody tells people who are beginners—and I really wish someone had told this to me— is that all of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, and it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not.
But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase. They quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story.
It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take a while. It’s normal to take a while. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.
I follow his advice by writing every chance I get. I also study the work of successful writers for inspiration and to hone my taste. Ira Glass appears to be almost as keen on persistence as Calvin Coolidge, which, for me, makes persistence the winner.
July 7, 2021
Mister Rabbit
I didn't acquire a stereo (which I shared with my sisters) until I was in junior high, and we won it by responding to a contest on the back of a cereal box. We had no record albums until we received the stereo, but one of my favorites was a collection of folk songs sung by Burl Ives.
“Mister Rabbit” was one of the songs on that album. I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I enjoyed the rhyme, repetition and simple tune. I have since learned the lyrics tell the tale of a quick-thinking rabbit after he is caught eating vegetables in a farmer’s garden. The lyrics are arranged in the call/response style with the farmer asking the rabbit seemingly innocent questions and the rabbit giving answers that, being Christian in nature, might dissuade the farmer from shooting him.
"Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Rabbit
your ears are mighty long.
Yes, bless God
they're put on wrong.
Every little soul must shine, shine.
Every little soul must shine."
The original “Mister Rabbit” was popular among African American children. They may have enjoyed it for the same reasons as I did; however, their parents may have used the lyrics to teach their children an important lesson. As a slave, being able to think on your feet to avoid trouble was an important skill.
The rabbit/farmer theme has been adopted by some in the entertainment business. Disney Studios, for example, expanded the simple song into the Uncle Remus stories in which the rabbit, called B’rer, outwits Br’er Fox and Br’er Bear. Warner Brothers capitalized on the theme by creating the cartoon characters Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd.
These rabbit cartoon characters created by movie studios were usually generic or domestic rabbits. Living as I do in Oregon’s high desert, jack rabbits are a far more abundant species, hence my decision to rewrite the lyrics to “Mister Rabbit” to befit a wild hare.
Lepus californicus
(after a traditional American ballad with African roots)
Mister Rabbit, Mister Rabbit,
why are you called Jack?‘twas jackass rabbit ‘fore Twain cut it back
but I’d sooner be Jacob, Johnny or Mack.
Mister Rabbit, Mister Rabbit,
where do wild hares roam?
Not too far from our sagebrush home
where the wind and the whip-poor-wills moan.
Mister Rabbit, Mister Rabbit,
your ears are kinda long.
Yes, bless God they’re put on wrong
so it goes in a folksy children’s song.
what makes you run so fast?
Tall hind legs that are built to outlast
coyotes and eagles when they’re after my ass.
Mister Rabbit, Mister Rabbit,
you leap high as the sky.
Watch me fly, he said with a twinkle in his eye
‘fore a flash of black tail bade me good-bye.
Ginger Dehlinger
June 10, 2021
A Father's Day Tribute
My father died in 1982 at the age of 64. We weren't close, primarily due to his alcoholism. Certain aspects of my relationship with him appear in Brute Heart, although to make my story work I created a father figure who was mean and more unreasonable than my quiet Dad.
Since June is the month we celebrate Father's Day, I decided to share this poem I wrote about Dad while I was home avoiding exposure to the covid virus. As time goes on I miss him more and more.
A Snapshot of My Father
Children begin life loving the one
who doesn’t make them eat spinach,
the one who chucks them under the chin
when he comes home from work,
gives them nicknames and piggy-back rides.
Time and distance may weaken the bond
but it never goes away completely—
part love, part fear, part fantasy.
There is a black and white photo of my father
in an album one of my sisters ended up with.
He and an Army buddy
are in some tiki bar in Honolulu
eight months after Pearl Harbor—
both wearing khakis,
drinks in hand,
no little umbrellas.
I don’t remember my father smiling much,
but in that photo, he is full-on jubilant.
Twenty-four years young
when the Kodak clicked that night,
he had much to grin about.
He was a brand-new second lieutenant,
a ninety-day wonder
who could do a hundred push-ups
and such a good cribbage player
his commanding officer sought him for games.
I wish I had known my father when that photo was taken—
before Eniwetok where he blew out his knee;
before an honorable discharge ended a hopeful military career;
before the menial jobs he worked to support his family;
before a soldier’s flirtation with alcohol became his life-long mistress.
Ginger Dehlinger
May 5, 2021
No More Posting Emails
Dear Followers,
I have been submitting posts to this blog for over ten years now. I learned recently that as of July 1 my blog will no longer automatically send you an email informing you when I have posted something new. I don't believe I have a ton of followers, so I don't expect this announcement to produce a torrent of tears.
I'll keep the blog, probably post to it from time to time, but only a diehard fan is going to take the time to look up my blog in search of something new. Thank you, those of you who have stayed with me all these years. I hope you have found my blog entertaining or informative or maybe both.
April 4, 2021
Good-bye Larry McMurtry
No doubt those coyotes you heard howling toward the end of March were lamenting the death of Larry McMurtry. I came close to howling with them on March 26 when I learned the Texas writer had passed the day before. I have watched the mini-series “Lonesome Dove” too many times to count, and being a lover of the Western genre, I watch every episode with profound respect for McMurtry’s realistic, heart-rending grasp of the “old West” and the people who tamed it.
Over his lifetime, his love of the wild West coupled with painstaking research resulted in close to three dozen novels, over 20 screenplays, and numerous nonfiction memoirs and essays. I was especially delighted when he adapted a short story written by Annie Proulx, another of my favorite authors, into the screenplay for Brokeback Mountain. Annie’s story won the National Magazine Award for Fiction in 1998, and the film adaptation was a “best picture” finalist at the 78th Annual Academy Awards. What a dynamite combination!
Several of McMurtry’s engaging novels, and not always Westerns, were adopted by filmmakers. Besides his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove which became an Emmy-winning TV series, films based on The Last Picture Show and Terms of Endearment were box office triumphs. Last Picture Show was a finalist for the “best picture” Oscar in 1971.
I will dearly miss the prolific writer as I do the passing of all of my favorite authors. Lately, March seems to be particularly hard on them. Larry McMurtry died March 25, 2021; Pat Conroy March 4, 2016. Annie, please be extra careful during March.
February 21, 2021
Fun With the Preposition or Prefix "In"
Social media has been receiving some bad publicity these days, much of it centering on censorship. Although I strongly believe in the First Amendment, I am torn when it comes to these censorship complaints. For me, social media used to be an entertaining, often enlightening, pastime. However, I have received or accidently viewed on other people's computer screens, posts that are so disgusting I would ban them myself if I had the technical skill to do so.
Thankfully, users still share beautiful pictures, funny (without being politically, racially, or scatalogically-themed) cartoons, and words of wisdom. Occasionally, I come across a post that I respect so much I absolutely have to share it. The one below is a great example of the English language's unlimited potential for meaning. It arrived with no acknowledgement for the clever person who wrote it. Oh, that I were so clever!
A Writer's Travels
I have been many places in my life, but I've never been in Cahoots. Apparently, you can't go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.
I've also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.
I have, however, been in Sane. They don't have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends and family. I live close, so it's a short drive.
I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I'm not too much on physical activity anymore.
I have also been in Doubt. That is a sad place to go; I try not to visit there too often.
I've been in Flexible, but only when it was very important to stand firm.
Sometimes I'm in Capable, and I'm starting to go there more often as I'm getting older.
One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenaline flowing and pumps up the old heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get!
And, sometimes I think I am in Vincible, but life shows me I am not.
People keep telling me I'm in Denial, but I'm positive I've never been there before.
I, Ginger Dehlinger, have been in Denial as well as Denio. (Denio, Nevada, a flyspeck on the map located at the Nevada/Oregon border) Does anyone know of a town named Cahoots, Suspense or Doubt? Please tell me where to find them if you do.
February 6, 2021
Inspiration for Poems
Most people associate me with the two novels I've written, but I don't have another story in me that would take 80,000 words or more to tell. As a lifelong lover of words, I'm fascinated by the limitless potential of sound, rhythm, and meaning in the English language. Writing a poem allows me to play with words until I have what I believe is the right combination to capture a stunning sight, moment, or thought. Sometimes I try a new format. Sometimes I write something silly. Meanwhile, as I slowly morph into a poet, I am using the discipline I have learned writing poems to improve my prose.
Although new to the genre, over a dozen of my poems have been published in online journals, e-mags and print anthologies. Below is one that recently appeared last fall in Tiny Spoon, issue 5: “Ecology."
Dead Beetle in the Path
Blue-eyed river shimmers.
A path carved by shoes and boots
shadows its course.
Sun warms, air hums with insect chatter.
One lies dead in the middle of the path.
Shiny black beetle on its back,
legs curled as if shielding a heart.
Does a beetle have a heart?
Do we who sliced this earthbound trail?
Let Artemis rule this wild green savanna.
Beetles will thrive here,
native grasses spring from the soil.
Let feral feet etch the only paths.
