Fellow SF Canada member Jo Beverly has a site that highlights romance authors, as she wears several authorial hats. It's well laid out and intriguing. Last week, Jo interviewed a guest, John Dierdorf. The interview is on Word Wenches and is very amusing. I knew the meanings of words in English had changed over time but not that much. Just wait until you see that vagina was a common term for... well, go to Word Wenches and read the interview. http://wordwenches.typepad.com/word_wenches/2008/02/im-delighted-to.html
John's site is called You Can't Say That. Not only is it highly entertaining and informative, but if you're a writer creating any story in the past, it would be a helpful tool for finding out how people of the time viewed the meanings, and then figuring out how much you should put in without losing your modern reader.
http://www.io.com/~dierdorf/nono.html
Showing posts with label Jo Beverly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jo Beverly. Show all posts
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Friday, August 10, 2007
The Romance of Personals
After listening to fellow writer and Canadian Jo Beverly's interview on CBC's Sounds Like Canada about the belittling of romance stories, you could say I've been inspired. http://www.cbc.ca/soundslikecanada/ (Friday Aug. 10, 2007) However truth is that I have been indulging in urban romance for a while.
Now it's not my romance but more that I'm a voyeur hanging from the ropes that dangle above the tangled hearts. I love reading the Georgia Straight's "I Saw You" personals. Some entries are always bland, but some are cryptic, mysterious, romantic, kooky. Someone recently posted about their sunglasses and how no one else would want them but how she missed them. Once in a while someone leaves an entry about finding something, or the jerk that stole their wallet. But most are about missed connections. There was the orange week, which had these two entries:
So I decided that every two weeks I would add my own cryptic, romantic notes, written by the gods, so to speak. One is in there now and the other will appear next week. Why not, where else can you have your piece read and puzzled over, probably increasing readership to a higher level than you'd get for a poem? I wouldn't call these poems but I might start that next.
Flight of Fancy
You: a penchant for disquise, those long white quills, a golden beak. Me: I was just a Spartan girl, already married, but that didn't stop you. I've heard you never stick around. Who will help with the children whether good eggs or not? You could send some support to xxx@hotmail.com.
Now it's not my romance but more that I'm a voyeur hanging from the ropes that dangle above the tangled hearts. I love reading the Georgia Straight's "I Saw You" personals. Some entries are always bland, but some are cryptic, mysterious, romantic, kooky. Someone recently posted about their sunglasses and how no one else would want them but how she missed them. Once in a while someone leaves an entry about finding something, or the jerk that stole their wallet. But most are about missed connections. There was the orange week, which had these two entries:
Blonde Guy on Main Bus -Sunday July 8, 1pm
You: Dark green cargo shorts, pale blue shirt? Blonde hair under a cap listening to headphones. You got off at Terminal skytrain. Me: Bright orange tank top, light blue jeans. I couldn't stop staring at you from behind my glasses. Wanted to grab you right there. Are you down for a bit of rough and tumble?? physicalfighter@hotmail.com
You: Dark green cargo shorts, pale blue shirt? Blonde hair under a cap listening to headphones. You got off at Terminal skytrain. Me: Bright orange tank top, light blue jeans. I couldn't stop staring at you from behind my glasses. Wanted to grab you right there. Are you down for a bit of rough and tumble?? physicalfighter@hotmail.com
Bright Orange and inked at McDonald's
You were sitting in McDonald's on Robson and Bidwell on July 11th, wearing a bright orange shirt. I stumbled past, waterlogged, melting and awestruck. All I could manage to think was, "Who looks like that?" You gave a cigarette to a homeless man and vanished with your bike and Starbucks. Obviously, I do not know who you are or what your story is, I simply wanted to tell you that I'm glad you exsist. And I dig your watch.
You were sitting in McDonald's on Robson and Bidwell on July 11th, wearing a bright orange shirt. I stumbled past, waterlogged, melting and awestruck. All I could manage to think was, "Who looks like that?" You gave a cigarette to a homeless man and vanished with your bike and Starbucks. Obviously, I do not know who you are or what your story is, I simply wanted to tell you that I'm glad you exsist. And I dig your watch.
Flight of Fancy
You: a penchant for disquise, those long white quills, a golden beak. Me: I was just a Spartan girl, already married, but that didn't stop you. I've heard you never stick around. Who will help with the children whether good eggs or not? You could send some support to xxx@hotmail.com.
My Cupid
I know you never were a little cherub, just a god. My love for you still burns brighter than the lantern that illuminated what you never wanted me to see. Your mother may have a great power but still she manipulated me. Will you forgive my error, rescue me from this island. Undyingly, your Psyche.
I know you never were a little cherub, just a god. My love for you still burns brighter than the lantern that illuminated what you never wanted me to see. Your mother may have a great power but still she manipulated me. Will you forgive my error, rescue me from this island. Undyingly, your Psyche.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
