It's the Olympics!
I have a theory why the Olympics are so exciting (despite all the Zika gloom and doom leading up to them). It's the stories!
The Olympics Are About Stories
So much is at stake every day of the Olympics. This year, all eyes are fixed on the veteran Olympian hoping to clinch his last medal, the refugee who went from swimming for her life to swimming for gold, the gymnast finally getting her shot on the world stage.
U.S. Swimmer Katie Ledecky breaking 800-meter freestyle record. Courtesy of The New York Times.
We're excited and invested in the outcome not because we care about the numbers on the screen, but because we care about these individual people and their stories. The journeys that bring them to the podium are as interesting and important to us as the medals hanging around their necks.
Olympics Writing Prompts
Since the Olympics provide such great material for story writing, they obviously provide great material for writing prompts. I've provided several below. Try one and see where it takes you!
What event are you most excited to watch? Which Olympian's story are you excited to follow? Let me know in the comments.
PRACTICE
Take fifteen minutes to try one of these Olympics-inspired writing prompts.
- Write about a journey to the Olympics.
- Write about a sports-related triumph.
- Write about a sports-related defeat.
- Write about a moment in your life—but include the word “Olympics.”
- Write about what the Olympics means to you (if anything).
When you're done, share your practice in the comments and leave feedback for other writers.
I would fall under your #5. I could care less about the Olympics. I’m a reasonably athletic person, but the only person I compete with is myself – if I don’t cheat, I always win. I see the Olympics as just another organized major merchandising campaign opportunity, not unlike Christmas and other holidays.
As a biologist, I see any large public gatherings as the ideal place to spread diseases because of the bacterial, fungal, and viral transfer proximity and the contact frequency between people is optimum for maximum disease spreading – and or the ideal beginnings of a new global pandemic.
Consequently, you would have to have a massive brain tumor in your cerebral cortex not to recognize the opportunity for terrorist strikes at the Olympics in general. Certainly there is no better opportunity anywhere/any time for bio-weapon deployments at such well attended events. The Olympics only excite me by my knowing in advance each year – that my attendance and participation isn’t mandatory.
As far as athletic competition goes and international concern over a literal level-playing field and fairness in general, until we class athletes according to their genetic gifts – not just their physical dimensions, but their metabolic chemical ones. Their performance related natural hormone levels such as testosterone, hGH, DHEA, dopamine, creatine and β-hydroxy β-methylbutyrate, and many others, then the Olympics are just as “rigged” and unfair as allowing athletes to artificially supplement their natural levels with these same naturally occurring ones. Having natural metabolic performance chemical level classes is really no different than, but an extension of having physical classes like height and weight.
Gene doping has now become another potential imbalance to in comparing the fairness of athletes performances. These gene therapies involve viral vector-mediated gene transfer of various performance enhancing human proteins. Not to worry, metabolic chemical performance classes for Olympic competition could also include classes for these genetically transferred proteins as well. Who knows, maybe one day we will examine each Olympic athletes individual genetic code – to make sure that it hasn’t been enhanced since their conception. Fair is fair.
How’s that for a writing prompt?
Yikes, you said a mouthful. You offer a great perspective as a biologist. Thanks for that, I think in the fourth paragraph there may be an incomplete sentence but short of that, not a bad response to today’s prompt.
Well, that’s another two reasons for switching the box off! With thanks to both of you for two interesting items.
I was going to say I think you meant “I couldn’t care less about the Olympics.” After all, if you could care less, you would, right?
But reading your article shows me you do care about the Olympics. You care about the potential spread of disease, potential terrorist attacks, and the fairness (or rather, the lack thereof) of the games. This was an interesting read, just technical enough to convince me of your expertise, but not so technical it lost me. Well done.
Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh – Oops, Gold, Silver, Bronze
Every four years, athletes from around the world gather to compete in what used to be a more amateur athletic event. These days the Olympics are big business and wherever big business surfaces there is compromise and profit to be made. Hence, every four years I mourn the loss of innocence that accompanies the modern Olympics.
Some might not have such a pessimistic attitude about the Olympics, but I find it hard to consider that athletes at this level of competition are as far from Little League Fields, AYSO, Saturday mornings spent balancing on a wooden beam or organizing fund-raising bake sales to buy new team jerseys as the Milky Way galaxy is from the next nearest star system. So I watch the Olympics every four years hoping that some of the child-like innocence, the joy of competing, will still shine through.
I guess if truth be told I am angry at the sports federation (IOC) that organizes the games for allowing the Games to slide so far away from being a showcase for top amateur athletic competition. I need to interject here that I do not in any way whatsoever fault the athletes or dedication to their individual love for the sport in which they compete. They are focused on maximizing preparation for their performances. It is inspiring.
Preparing for the Olympics is almost a full time job, hence the need for athletes to acquire sponsors and participate in personal appearances and corporate marketing schemes. Once again, I don’t fault business either for trying to make a profit at its endeavors. After all, “money makes the world do ‘round in the most unusual way.” But can’t we find a better way to permit our athletes to prepare for competition than mugging for tooth paste commercials, deodorants, and rental cars?
Yikes my fifteen minutes is up. Please allow me to finish my mini-rant. I’d like to ask that corporations be taken out of the funding equation for the Olympics. Let governments sponsor their athletes. Let governments find the money. After all, more can be learned about a country by the behavior of its athletes than by being exposed what sponsoring corporations produce and sell.
It’s time to remember the sand lot pickup games that used to be played at recess or after school. Just a bunch of kids, picking teams and trying their best to win – competitive sport at its most basic level.
As one who wasn’t always picked for a team as a kid, I learned a valuable lesson – if you want to play, you have to prepare for the game. Kids got picked to play because they could hit, run, field, be a team player. No free rides. That’s the lesson I learned at eight years old and that’s the strategy I used to get my first job on Wall Street. If you want to play the game, prepare yourself, do your best, constantly grow. And most of all, don’t look for someone else to fund your growth. Just do it? Isn’t that what Nike says?
I wish my experiences as a child had taught me to prepare for the game. The lesson I learned (at the time) was that I was of no value and never would be.
I love the irony of bemoaning corporate involvement in the Olympics and the last two sentences you used. Very clever.
Thanks for the feedback. I had fun with the Olympics piece which was a surprise. Other than writing what do you do now? Or is writing your main gig?
I’m a magician, but I’m hoping to write more and “magic” less.
Now that is an unusual combination.
If you read my practice on this article, you will see I am an unusual guy. (Perhaps “unique” is better than “unusual.”)
A Small Domestic of Great Proportions – 590 words
“Now then,” April looked up from her knitting and waited.
“What are we going to watch tonight?”
It wasn’t really a question; she knew him better than that. They would watch whatever Don wanted to watch. As usual. Now, if it was her, she would flick through the channels and pick whatever she fancied. But it wasn’t her. It was him.
April kept on knitting while she watched Don noisily putting the newspaper back together again. He found the TV listings; holding the paper out in front of him he gave it a hard businesslike shake to straighten it out.
“Let’s have a look.” He hummed tunelessly.
“BBC One, 7.30, the Olympics. BBC Two, The Olympics. ITV, the Olympics. That’s it then, The Olympics. Do you want Swimming, or Gymnastics or Table Tennis?”
April was astounded that Don had even asked her what she wanted to watch. So given a rare opportunity, she shifted in the easy chair, arranged her knitting in her lap and took a deep breath.
“I don’t want to watch the Olympics, Don.”
He gave her a long hard look over the newspaper.
“We always watch the Olympics, dear. Always.” He emphasised the ‘always’.
‘No, WE don’t. YOU always watch the Olympics. It’s you who like the Olympics. Not me. I hate the Olympics.”
“No, you don’t April, you love it. We always discuss it, don’t we?”
“No, you do the talking. I don’t listen to you. I just make appropriate noises.”
“But you get excited, dear, cheering Team Britain on, and saying how proud you are every time you see the Union Jack. You do, April, you do. Go on, admit it,” he laughed.
April shook her sadly and picked up her knitting again and gave him a dirty look.
Don sat up in his chair with his hands gripping the arms, and leaning forward, demanded,
“Are you telling me that for all these 53 years you’ve been sitting there pretending to love football, cricket, swimming, marathons, the Boat Race …” he trailed off having lost his momentum. “And table tennis, because you always remark about how focussed the Japanes are ….”
“No Don. It’s you who does and says all that. I just let you get on with it. I gave up years ago when the kids were small. The TV was yours, you said. ‘Who bought the bloody thing and paid the TV licence?’ that’s what you used to shout at us. No, Don, if anything has spoiled our marriage, it’s your bloody obsession with sport on TV, not just football or cricket but all sport. Even bloody sea fishing. Of all things, sea fishing!” April was getting cross now.
Don sat back in his comfy chintz chair totally deflated. Then, all of a sudden, he got up and handed April the remote control. He’d never seen April like this before. She had even sworn and that wasn’t like her at all.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” April looked hard at him.
“You choose what we look at tonight.”
“No, no. The Olympic Games are on every channel we’ve got.” She handed the remote control back to him.
Don turned the TV off and disappeared into the kitchen. Later he returned with a tray of tea and fruit cake and set it down on a table between them. And with some old LPs stacked on the turntable, Don poured the tea and April cut the cake.
Olympics or no Olympics, Don and April spent the most contented evening they’d had since 1963.
This is a wonderful quick read.. I enjoyed the story..
Great story Jean. Very readable. I apologize for all men who are clueless. I include myself.
Short and sweet. It did not feel rushed. The story flowed nicely. I was able to see the charters. I felt as if I were also in the living room with as the couple had this talk. Well written.
This is a beautiful read, and so so relatable let me tell you. Have you been spying on our house? x
Nice! It would be great see more of April’s reaction to the change, how she ate the cake, what she chose to do instead of watching sport. The only thing I spotted I might change is where you tell us April is cross- I think her words do that already. Great stuff, -Sef
A very good story. I would have liked to have seen it end more romantically. (Tea and fruitcake? I feel about fruitcake about like April feels about the Olympics.) Still, nicely done.
I will admit, I’m not as crazily-addicted to the Olympics as everyone else is. I don’t know why, I’m just not.
So tonight was actually the first time that I sat down and watched some of it, (How long has it been going on?), and I found myself intrigued. Not because of the sports (I couldn’t figure out the scoring and judging if you paid me), but because of the people.
I don’t know any of the Olympic participants, except for a couple of names from the news, but today I “met” two athletes who I now love.
Again, not because of the sport (I don’t know the first thing about men’s diving), but because of who they are. In particular, because on national television, they proclaimed that their identity was not in their sport, but in Christ.
Those guys are my heroes. 🙂
My point it, you are 100% right. It’s about the people, the stories, what’s behind what we simply see while watching the sport. The stories and the ‘characters’ in them are what intrigue us. I’m not interested in the sports at all. But I was cheering anyway, because of who was playing.
Nice twist to this assignment. I think you discovered a terrific slant to the story. This would make a good big post.
Wow, really? I was actually just sitting here contemplating writing a Medium post about it, but wasn’t sure… I think I will! Thanks!
Five minutes. Erik rubbed his hands on his shorts. Five minutes left until the second half was up. Five minutes to score. Five minutes.
The screams of the audience had already been put away in his mind. The silent nods and eye signals from his teammates were not. Gotta do it, he thought. Gotta score. The referee tossed the ball to the opposing team. The game started up again in full force, and he ran to mark number 10. The dude- Hassa, was it- had been the one to get the ball, and now he ran towards the goal of Erik’s team, dribbling the ball with a precision that made it all the harder for Erik to steal it. Hassa slowed down, raised his foot to pass the ball. Oh, no you don’t, he thought as he stole possession of the ball.
The roars of approval trailed him as he ran downwards, then passed to his teammate, Jake. Jake caught it smoothly, dodged his markers and made his way into the penalty box. Atta boy!, was his thought as he kept on running towards where Jake was. Jake took one step- c’mon- and kicked. The ball soared through the air, over the goalkeepers hands, bounced off the heading.
“ OH, what a disappointment! But wait, the ball’s still in the air-” Erik was there, the ball at an awkward angle, too high to score properly- “- Oh, what’s this! A scorpion! Johnson comes in with a scorpion kick, what a beauty- will it make it?!” The ball cut through the air, grazed the tips of the goalkeepers gloves, and finally, finally, hit the net and landed onto the green grass of the goal. “ GOOAL! Johnson scores a beautiful goal, making it 2-1 for King’s High! Oh, wait a minute, what’s this?” The referee was crossing his hands. No goal! “ It seems like both of the teams didn’t hear the whistle. What a shame for King’s High.” Eric lay, back on the ground from the scorpion flip, heaving heavily, and closed his eyes.
Lovely. I like how you didn’t give us Eric’s emotions in the last scene and communicated what he was feeling through his actions. The last paragraph would be easier to read if you separated the dialogue into paragraphs every time the announcer speaks.
I’m not familiar enough with soccer to picture what is happening in this scene. That doesn’t make it a bad piece, but it does limit your audience (which could be good or bad).
Wouldn’t it be a wonderful feeling to represent your country
in the Olympics. I tried to imagine what
it would be like standing on that podium with a gold medal round your neck. It was too difficult. When I was at school I would have loved to
not have been the last person picked for a team at PE. I would have loved to have been able to score
a goal or win a race. For one person to say to me ‘You did well’ would have been
great. The remarks I received were more
like: ‘Your too slow’, ‘Your too fat’ or ‘You’ve got two left feet.’
The only thing I ever won at school was a bottle of whisky
in a raffle. The only problem was I didn’t
have an adult and wasn’t allowed to take it.
A bottle of bubble bath just wasn’t the same.
Never mind one day I would be successful, I don’t know when
or at what but I will be or so I keep telling myself.
Hi Marion, a heartfelt piece! I too remember being the last kid to be picked in PE…. Watch the ‘your’ though, this should be ‘you’re’. -Sef
On the Road
The sun shone high above the churches and cafes and street vendors as Chavais watched people dance in every flounced, frilled and beautifully embellished colour of the rainbow. There were people with guitars here, trumpets there, and somewhere not too far away a steel band played as Chavais felt the almost overwhelming excitement excalate his tummy into tightly-wound knots.
Chavais may have been exhausted from the long drive in, but the sights and the smells and all the music and people – this glorious sensory overload – was so much more than worth it. He suddenly remembered his humble home and sighed. Small, but cosy, and always with just enough food for him. He had never gone without and had always felt blessed for everything he ever had – but this! Well this was just something else.
He walked proudly beside his adopted family as they made their way to the Olympic Park. Chavais knew they weren’t blood but as far as he was concerned, they were brothers. He couldn’t wait for the incredible things he would see, the things he would do, the people he’d meet… It was almost too much for a good boy from the suburbs.
He knew he should at least try to be calm – he had spent years in training for crying out loud – but he just couldn’t hold back the excitement, the emotion, the overwhelming urge to… too…
Chavais cocked his leg and peed on a lamp post.
Ha! I felt that I almost knew where this was going, but I honestly laughed out loud at the last sentence there. I do like this story, and lots of good stories are told from the point of view of an animal. Something about their innocence compels you to instantly love them, you know? And you can see that something is going on between people while the dog doesn’t know, sort of like with a small child.
Thank you Gemma. I honestly didn’t know if this would be anyone’s cup of tea as I haven’t written in such a long time. It’s got to the stage where I’m terrified of my laptop. 1000 thank yous for taking the time though, you are a sweetheart.
I don’t follow the Olympics. Would agree with Jonathan that the Olympics are becoming very commercialised. Countries bid for the right to host them despite the huge hole in the budgets that will cause, just to gain some momentary reputation and tourism. On the other hand, I’m also not sure how we could host an event of international proportions without commercialising it to some degree.
It is sad that we live in a world where so much is motivated by money. In America, we are more concerned with dollars than sense.
Yann is suddenly laughing. He just saw on a T.V. the most ridiculous sport ever: golf. It was not just random tv show program, it was the Olympique. While he was trying to handle himself, his friend, Milton, was looking at him, shocked: “Dude, what are you chortling about?,” he said to Yann, “We’ve just loosed” he continued while pointing at one of La Cage’s tv, a new restaurant that we can eat while watching tv.
Milton was angry, but Yann didn’t knew if it was because he laughed at it or because their country had loosed. “Sorry,” Yann apologized to him, “I’m just not really into it, I guess… -Why?! Isn’t it super cool to see how they play until the end? To see how they win? Don’t you feel a bit proud when our country wins?” Milton asked Yann. “It’s way to much «showing-off-to-the-world» for me,” Yann answered before Milton continued arguing: “Yeah, that’s the fun! You don’t have to move and you can just watching it at the tv. -I just think it’s a big waste of money. -It’s not! It is like, the greatest show ever! I love it and I will die for it. Why don’t you like it too?” he asked Yann.
“It’s just that I don’t care who received a medal or not. Doesn’t brings me one and that doesn’t make the winner the best athletes in the world. They just were lucky that rich people spotted them and also recruited them.” he thought. Yann really hated debates since first grade and didn’t want to fight with his partner of basket-ball. Yann grabbed his bowl of pop corn and emptied its contents directly into his mouth: “Idk” he finally answered while chewing the food.
It’s interesting to see them talking to each other, and I’m curious about the restaurant and their names. But check your grammar. “Lost” instead of “loosed”, and you almost always create a new paragraph when someone new is talking, except in a few special cases. In the case of the last paragraph, it’s unclear whether Yann is talking or thinking, since you put it in quotation marks but used “he thought”. Also, it’s okay to say “Idk” if the character said that instead of “I don’t know,” but if not, just write it out.
Thank you for helping me improving myself! I’ll update my text and considering your comments. ^^ Also, I’m usually using italic form for my readers to understand that they are thinking and not talking, but I’ll do my best to fix it. As for the restaurant, the pop corn is really good there ;p
This isn’t really an Olympics-related thing, but it’s a short short I made recently.
The sky was periwinkle blue that day, the color of hope, the color of the dress she wore on their third date and which she quickly spilled red wine on and ruined, the color of mountain flowers, the color of summer evenings spent on the porch, the color of relief when she forgave him for something he shouldn’t have been forgiven for. Periwinkle was the color of her favorite necktie of his, the color of a square of the sidewalk after she’d drawn on it with the neighborhood’s kids, the color of her happy tears, the color of her baby niece’s flip flops, the color of the tissue box on the nightstand for when the dog in the movie died. The color of her soul, or at least part of it; the other parts were yellow and orange, like vibrant dances and summer sunshine and lemonade stands and laughing when you didn’t know why. Her heart was filled with red, overflowing with it, with love. She always had too much love to give out, and sometimes he didn’t know why she gave it. She sprinkled handfuls of it on everything- old men who didn’t remember what they ate for breakfast that morning but somehow remembered the warmth of her hand, children that looked at her with adoration, the grouchy woman behind the checkout at Walmart, all dogs she laid eyes on. She loved every book she read with all her heart, loved their cheap old house with the peeling paint, loved the coffee table in all its tilty, shabby glory. Loved him.
The sky was periwinkle blue the day the traffic light was green for her and red for the other guy. Periwinkle blue was the color of the ambulance driver’s glasses.
Periwinkle blue was the yowl of their cat when it realized she wasn’t coming home.
Periwinkle blue was the television’s static.
Periwinkle blue were his heartbeats. Not hers.
Powerful.
I wrote my first book when I was 13. Notice that I didn’t say, I published my first book when I was 13. It was about an American girl who went to the Olympics and won the gold medal in the gymnastics all-around. This was 1976, and people around at that time may remember Nadia Comaneci and the first 10 in Olympic competition. That was what inspired me.
Over the years, I’ve kept the storyline in mind, and it’s now expanded to a four-book series. Except, the girl is no longer the main character. It’s the character who wound up becoming her boyfriend, a track and field sprinter who winds up winning Olympic gold. I have the first two books drafted but they are in need of serious rewriting, and I’m working on another book right now.
The Olympics ARE about the stories!
Sounds like you need to get working on your first rewrite. Best of luck!
I really appreciate your efforts to compose such a superb post.
But a novel takes more effort and time to be completed. It also took the author duo L. Hart and Olivia Rupprecht a lot of time and effort to finish the sequel to their previous masterpiece, THERE WILL BE KILLING.
INTERESTINGLY, the sequel is titled: “Making A Killing”.
It is a classic blend of money and murder. Both these angles have been merged seamlessly to produce one heck of a Thriller.
The short description of the novel goes like this:
The CIA’s most valuable assassin, Agent J.D. Mikel, wasn’t supposed to fall in love with anyone – especially not Kate Morningside, a woman coveted by another powerful world player. When Kate is kidnapped, J.D. is pulled into a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and one false move could cost him everything. Indeed, there are players – and then there are the masters who make the rules only to break them.
It’s not an even match for those joining an epic search for Kate on a twisted dark hunt down the Mekong River in the midst of a bitterly disputed war: Izzy, a brilliant young psychiatrist assigned to the Army’s 8th Field Hospital and counting the days until he can return home; and his best friend Gregg, a gifted psychologist who served his time only to be driven back to Vietnam by his own inner demons and a rivalry with Mikel that burns as intensely as napalm.
There are other wars within wars in turbulent 1970. From the CIA to the American mafia to an International cartel helmed by a master of the sadistic, all eyes are on Southeast Asia’s Golden Triangle. And when it comes to a certain cash crop flourishing under the dominion of the mysterious Poppy King, everyone wants a piece of the action. Money talks. The currency? Heroin. It’s a spinning maze of intrigue, politics, and mind games; a hotbed where sex, drugs, and Janis Joplin aren’t always a beautiful thing. But even when no one turns out to be quite who or what they seem, one rule remains fast across the Devil’s chessboard: Winners live. Losers die.
The sequel to the national bestseller THERE WILL BE KILLING, MAKING A KILLING artfully weaves a spellbinding tapestry of dark history, psychology, and seduction – the best and worst of our humanity . . . and the hunger of our hearts.
In case you are too curious about the story, please visit the website:
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Thanks for sharing informative piece of writing! Monica you explain the great topic about Olympics writing prompts. Monica please you help with Dissertation by Expert Writers because my aim is I will write dissertation about Olympics writing.
I have never been much of a sports fan. Physical feats never really caught my interest. I have lived through several Olympics, but besides a passing interest in figure skating, I have never really cared about the Games. Perhaps it is because I am older and paying more attention to world events in general, that this year’s Olympic Games have carried more meaning for me than any other time.
No, I think the real reason I care is the drama. People died building the facilities. Poverty and quality of life around the area were making the news. People were ground under the heel of “the Olympics.” It is crazy to think that people and governments just let this happen. And then athletes cried about how their sinks didn’t work or how the standards were down. Seriously? What is the world coming to? Who are these horrible people that are sharing the planet with me?
Why did no one stand up and say “This is unacceptable! Where are public safety committees? Who’s in charge here?”
The Olympics (and not just 2016) to me are a sign of extravagant waste and squander. Of a society that uses and loses. In a few weeks, another Olympic arena will be abandoned. The area blighted and virtually useless. It reminds me of how people treat the planet, acting like there is always more; always taking resources and leaving messes. I am ashamed of the Olympics. I am ashamed of the Human Race.
We can be better than this. It’s not about who can bring home the most gold medals. It’s supposed to be about the world coming together. No matter what our conflicts or issues, we meet during the Olympics to do something together. We can turn this amazing, historical connection into our past into a good thing. We can come together to build a sustainable, safe program that highlights our incredible achievements without investing in a culture of greed and corruption and spoil.
My thoughts were, “We CAN, but we won’t.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve watched the Olympics. I’ve never been into sports much. I’ve only ever “watched” the Olympics with a group of people, much like I’ve “watched” the Superbowl. The latter is all about the commercials anyway. Often I don’t even know who’s playing.
As a child, I was the kid who was always picked last. I remember playing softball once and when I got up to bat, the entire opposing team sat down on the field. Except the pitcher, of course. They were that confident I would strike out. I did not surprise them.
It wasn’t just about being chosen last. I got beat up and called “sissy” and other names I won’t mention here. My lack of athletic prowess made me feel worthless. The teasing and beatings made me feel less than that.
In high school I discovered fencing. I never excelled at it, but I did enjoy it. But participation and observation are two very different things. I don’t particularly want to watch a fencing match.
As an adult, it is rather strange being me. Here I am, straight, cisgender, and yet I don’t like sports. I don’t fish. I don’t hunt. I find the whole idea of men’s groups a mystery. Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of men? I want to be where the women are.
This morning, as I was considering what I might write for this post, I mentioned I am not into cars. My friend Ron launched into a ten-minute speech about the “beaut” he saw for sale by the side of the road one day. It was a nineteen-sixty something Oldsmobile. The model sounded like government secret code words. There were numbers that I assume meant something about the engine. Very quickly Ron’s words became just sound, like a baby babbling or a bird chirping. I smiled politely and nodded from time to time. He would have gone on, but Doug interrupted, saying, “Isn’t this the kind of thing you said doesn’t interest you?”
“I’m feigning interest,” I admitted. Ron pretended to be jovial, but I could tell he was deflated.
So to those who enjoy watching sports, fishing, hunting, and talking endlessly about cars, I salute you. I’ll spend my time making love to my wife, reading good books, making the occasional gourmet meal (or failing), writing my novel (I’d better get to work!) and sometimes even enjoying a long nap.
Foil, epee or sabre ?
Yup I can relate to your story in many ways. So when did it dawn on you that you were very normal and to be congratulated for not following the crowd? I appreciate that you offer feedback to just about everyone. You are the kind of folks I hoped would be part of this writing experience. Thanks. I enjoy reading your feedback almost as much as the submissions themselves.
Why, thank you, Jonathan. I do try to give feedback, as long as I can keep it positive and there aren’t already a bunch of comments saying the same thing. I took foil fencing. Some of the class moved on to sabre and one classmate preferred epee. He was a tall guy, though I don’t know if that had any bearing on his choice. The one girl in our class stuck with foil and consistently kicked everyone’s ass, which may have had something to do with so many going over to sabre.
I do have a friend who told me once (quoting something she had heard or read, I think), “You were not made to be part of the crowd. You were meant to stand out.” I was in my forties at the time, so it took a while.
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