The Art of Galumphing

"You know you're a writer when...
#6 You tell your friends that your favorite way to relax is galumphing."
 
-Ann Linquist,  http://annlinquist.com/you-want-to-write-better-you-want-to-write-more

Recently, I was introduced to the literary exercise of Galumphing.  My online teacher, Ann Linquist, taught this technique.  Three lists of words, each assigned a number from 0-9 are organized into a chart.  Without looking, you select a three digit number.  First number references the first list, second to the second list and so on.  You end up with three seemingly unrelated items in which you must weave into a short story.  I got science teacher, sculpture, and beach.  And here's how it went...

Matt was glad to leave his students behind to experience a much needed get-away.  He was not normally so impromptu, but his life was changing fast.  When he’d met Clarissa, he was at a symposium and she was the artist that drew all the sketches.  Her work was new and fresh.  She was young, beautiful and alluring.  A brief introduction, a cup of java, and three months later, she’s suggesting they take a jaunt to Revere Beach to join some friends in a beach sculpting competition.  Who would have thought? This science teacher would find himself among Boston’s art culture, playing in the dirt with the most non-traditional girl in the world. His nerves were at attention.  This was completely uncharted territory for him.  This girl was whimsical, nothing like the girls he fraternized in college.  They were all business, ambition, and decorum.  She was free, spontaneous and daring.  He was afraid of the leap he was taking.  Would this turn out to be a rabbit hole that venturing too far down would be a bad idea?  Drinking in the company of Clarissa was like taking the “red pill and staying in Wonderland.”  It was everything he wanted, and everything he feared.

Absolute the most fun exercise yet!

Person, Proximity, and Tense

Writing exercises can be fun.  I've been playing around with a few different techniques and what I'm learning is each prompt can be recycled and reworked over and over and the stories are so varied that literally a novel is just waiting to be developed.  Here are few fun beginnings. 

Event: Waiting at the bus stop in a winter storm.

Third Person, distant proximity

When temperatures drop and half-clad frozen people need to get home, impatience sets in during the long wait for a bus.  Cold temperatures lengthen minutes, until people are consumed with no other occupation but the attempt to hear the diesel engine, and the hope of fingers thawed.

 
Third Person, present tense, close proximity

The snow is steady now, with gusts of wind blowing flurries side-ways.  A mom wraps her arms around her small child, who is burying face into her chest.  Cars are slowly creeping through the thickening slush and the rev of the bus’ diesel engine calls from around the corner.

First Person, present tense, intimate

The burning sensation is consuming my hands, I set my groceries down out of self-preservation. I shrink into the smallest ball possible and gingerly slip my hands into my jacket, trying to absorb warmth from my tepid core.  Why didn’t I check the forecast this morning?  Bus, please hurry.

 Third Person, past tense, limited omniscience  (and just maybe the beginning of a story?)

The diesel engine settled as the screeching sound of breaks brought the bus to a halt.  Martha unveiled her hands from beneath her jacket and reached for the crisp-wet bag of groceries.  Rising carefully from the bench, she approached the bus door as it opened.

She caught her breath instantly at the sight of him, trying to steady her already uncertain footing.  His blue eyes were deep and penetrating, surrounded by chapped cheeks and disheveled brown hair.  She flushed as his eyes met hers.  He still elicited that response.  How long had it been?  Three years? Their marriage was brief and heated, four impassioned months of bliss and fire. 

Then, she had been green in the way of love, full of fancies. 

Failure

Failures are interesting things.  I fail all the time.  Some days I feel like a failure.  Many times I fail when I’m trying my hardest. 

I remember when I was just about to graduate from college.  I had dreams at that time to apply to grad school and, knowing how bad a tester I was, I wanted to have as much on my side as possible.  A teacher nominated me for the coveted “Mellinger Award,” given to one graduating senior in the psych department.  I had worked really hard to keep good grades and I led the PsiChi Honors Society as its elected president.  I was part of a pilot program teaching general psych lab as an undergrad.  I wanted that award. 

So when that stupid Social Work class brought my GPA down just enough to disqualify me, I was livid.   No matter the efforts my Professor gave in my defense, there was no changing the overall consensus of the board.  I didn’t deserve it. 

The gossip around campus was palpable.  When I’d walk into the lab, people were discussing it, when I sat for lunch, my fellow students would try and comfort me.  They’d grumble about how the award went to a non-graduating senior, and that was a violation of the rules as well.  Well, I’d smile and say it wasn’t such a bid deal.  But it was.  It was defining me at the time.  

But I didn’t have much time to mourn.  Just about that time, life was changing rapidly, showing me that the plans I desired weren’t the Master plan.  I was pregnant with our first child, and we were about to move our family to a new state with my husband’s work.  I would be defined by a new season. 

So looking back, that award would have done me little good after all.  Hopefully it did a lot of good for the one who won it.

I put grad school in a drawer and dove wholeheartedly into being a homemaker.  By the way, I’ve failed there a bunch too!  But as I consider how I overcame, I don’t really think I did.  God did.  He changed it all up, and moved me on to the next lesson.  Did I pass the test?  Hmm.  That’s a hard one.  I believe I did to the degree I opened my hands and released the award and reputation that accompanied it.  If God is for us, who can be against us?  Did I learn to trust myself, actually no, but I learned to trust God.  “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”  And he has filled my house well.