House Call #11

And Three More Baby Talkers Win!

First, Who Still Needs an Amy Hempel??

This is one of those must-have books. If you don’t have a copy, dibs this one in the Comments. Once I give you the heads-up, please send your address via The Cult. As usual, I can’t mail the book outside the U.S..

Second, The Latest House Call

This past week I’ve had the pleasure of daily fist fights with Jeffrey Solomon Block. We’ve been looking for longer work to discuss, and his sample is the first chapter of a book — or maybe not the first-first chapter. Check it out, here: Covenant of the Cup.

The writing is clear. The scene has an effective hook. The jargon creates great Head Authority. Jeffrey is brighter than bright, and he’s been contributing better-than-good feedback to writers in the previous House Calls.

It’s this team spirit that tips the scale when I go looking for writing samples for future House Calls. As always, please don’t risk your solid gold idea. Soon I’ll be creating a new post for writing sample submissions.

For now, please give Jeffrey a read and some support and useful suggestions.

Third, The Latest Round of Baby Talkers

Li “me wif a message”

Sercoe of Wife

What’s Snuggums cwyin about over dere? Mama threw him a ham bone and he wan wid it, his wittow pot bewwy bouncing. He settows in to chewin’ it, his wittow teef workin dat bone while I get back to diggin twenches in the mud. When he cwies, I wook up and see his wittow boddy woewin awound. I wun over to see what’s wong. Biggest yewow snake I ever seen gotta holda Snuggums. It has his bewwy whapped up and is squeezin. Snuggums is whimperin, whimperin save me, but that snake wookin at widdle me wif a message. I wun back to Mama and say pwease, snake’s got Snuggums! She wun wif me to the edge of the wibber, but snake swawoed Snuggums, all but his head. We see Snuggum’s face inside the snake’s big yewow mouf, his marble eyes just stawin. Mama pick me up and cawwy me inside. She put me in da tub. I smew my favowite, corn bwed wif peppers, bakin. When I go to bed, ebby time I cwose my eyes, I see my poor puppy.¹

Brandan

(Please don’t be the Brandan in England, but if you are please have a plan for how I can send your prize to an address in the States.)

Here comes the feeling again. A tickle in my tummy. I’m afraid I just can’t help it. Seeing you walking all by your little wittle self at this late hour, it sets my heart racing boom-boom-boom. You haven’t noticed me. Lost in your own world as your heels click-click-click on the pavement. I’m getting closer and closer. My breath is coming out fast and in small clouds, the steam from an angry choo-choo train. I’m all stuffy and stiffy, the sound of my boots now a rapid stomp-stomp-stomp as I break into a run. Finally, too late, you see me.

Diane

(Okay, this one just scrambled my brains. Temporal lob seizure triggered.)

Shem-Wow

¡Ay que chulo! What a cute wittle buffalo you have. Tell me the story of how you got him, Shem. You wittle bitch. Member when you told me the story of how you were named? It was from the Children’s Bible. Noah’s middle baby. One day you’ll grow up big big and strong and see all the boo boos you builded. Or can you see them now, Sweet Pea? Come on Peanut, it’s time to put on your boots n’ tie and we’ll pretend to play grownups. We’ll play office ‘round the skinned dead buffalo.

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As usual, winners please contact The Cult. Let me know how you’d like the book inscribed and where to send it and the malevolent stuffed Jackalope head. Candy & extras galore.

The heads are dwindling, but there’s still time to post or revise a Baby Talk sample, Here.

As always, every story is an experiment.

1. Yikes! A textbook lesson in always landing on the most important word! Puppy!?