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Thursday, 11 December 2008

How I Began Writing and The GoodKnight Story

By liloldme

Mom, a recent widow, moved from two thousand miles away into the mother-in-law apartment attached to my sister's house. Most of all she missed her books, so I gave her one of my bookcases filled with authors she liked and subjects of interest. But she lacked focus.

One day while in the doctor's waiting room searching through Golfing, Field and Stream and Sailing, I lunged for the New Yorker magazine. Leafing through the pages, one cartoon grabbed me by the lapels and announced, "I am a story, write me!"

Her husband of thirty-five years was reading the newspaper on the front porch and Juliet was weeding the garden when they first noticed the Knight in Shining Armor at the end of their long driveway. He was holding a bouquet of flowers - and so began A GoodKnight Story.

As I typed, George, the knight in shining armor, told me why he was in town and why he found it necessary to don the uncomfortable armor and rent the white horse from the livery on the outskirts of the local town, and why he had to rescue the damsel in distress, old though she may be. Actually, her age was an important factor, but we'll get into that later.

Juliet sighed when her husband told the Knight to get lost, that they were not buying whatever he had to sell and began using profanity. He was well into the case of beer he had brought home earlier in the day. Juliet apologized to me for having to witness her husband’s outburst.

The town people told me about what a lovely person Juliet was, always kind to everyone, and wasn't it a shame about her distressful marriage.

Mrs. Hill, George's third grade teacher, told me about the day George stayed after school to help clean the blackboards. She said, "I'll be honest with you, when that little boy turned to me and asked me to be his guardian angel, I wept. I knew his mother was quite ill and I knew that his father had died, so what was I to do but become his guardian for real after his mother passed."

Mrs. Hill went on to tell me about her own death a few months passed. She told me not to be terribly concerned because it was an important aspect of the story.

You see, she had instructed George who had become an architect and who had designed her house in the mountains, to find someone worthy of living in it - thus living happily ever after.

Sorry, but it needed saying.

Ergo, that's why George donned the shining suit of armor, rented the white horse from the livery on the outskirts of town and rode up to save the aging damsel in distress, why I began writing and how, for a little while anyway, I gave focus to my mother's life because I asked her to edit my rather lengthy story.

[EDITORIAL NOTE: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. Instructions are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post

Comments

That is funny and I love the title.
You could expand this into a children's book.

You surely could! I love that a cartoon spurred you into action!

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