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Obsession by Kidd Wadsworth

July 25, 2024 by in category Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as , , ,
Photo by Kidd

Obsession is my natural state.

As an undergraduate in Electrical Engineering at Texas A&M University, I was required to take a Mechanical Engineering course where we analyzed the forces in a truss. Trusses, often triangular networks of beams, are commonly found in bridges. As I recall the course material now, some 40 years later, there were two methods of analyses. I had been intently studying those methods for an upcoming test, when I closed my books and went to bed to catch some z’s. Immediately, I began to dream about trusses. In my dream there appeared two beams. As I, with great speed, analyzed the forces in each beam, the beams themselves, like some terrible organic disease, reproduced. Suddenly, there were four beams. Terrified, I worked even faster, but the beams again reproduced. Now there were eight. Pencil flying, I analyzed. Sixteen beams.

Thankfully, my roommate shook me awake. “You’re mumbling,” she said. “Are you okay?”

I have no idea what I replied. But when I closed my eyes, two beams appeared. I began my calculations. Ut oh. Four beams. Eight beams. Sixteen beams. Thirty-two beams.

She shook me awake again. Understanding it wasn’t real, I cried out, “There is no truss!”

Yes, she thought I was nuts, but I did manage to sleep without that nightmare returning.

Years earlier, at thirteen, I had discovered poetry. I remember jotting down lines of verse on any scrap piece of paper I could find. When I was sixteen, and got my driver’s license, my mom sent me all over Dallas running errands. (Yes, I loved it.) One evening, flying home on the freeway, I pondered the word “mobile.”

I pronounce this word with a short ‘i’, like the gas station, or a child’s toy hung over the crib. Thus, it is nearly impossible to stop the word from leaving the palate quickly. As I drove, through the mix-master and across the city of Dallas, I repeated the word “mobile”. Mobile. Mobile. Mobile.

I was in love with words.

Somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, when I didn’t realize what I was losing, I abandoned my love of words and my love of poetry. Perhaps I was too busy pursuing romantic love or trying to analyze trusses. But now, years later my obsession with the sound of words, and all things poetry, has returned.

Consider the word, “blink”. Say it out loud. “Blink”. Notice how the hard “b” at the beginning and the hard “k” at the end are like clicking switches. So that the word “blink” turns on with the “b” sound and turns off with the “k” sound. Great word, “blink”.

And yes, I’m entering poetry contests. Not once, but as many times as allowed.

This could get expensive.

I’m obsessed. And I don’t mind. I’m dreaming about poetry. (It is infinitely better than dreaming about trusses.) I’m waking up in the middle of the night and scribbling down lines. And no, I don’t want it to stop. My mind has gone down a rabbit hole.

Pour the tea. I can handle the Queen of Hearts. I love it here.

–Kidd

Hey, have you ever thought about the words effervescence and quiescence? Go on, say them fifteen times. I LOVE WORDS!!!

Some of Kidd’s stories are in the following anthologies:

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The Lyrical Language Lab by Kidd Wadsworth

June 25, 2024 by in category Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as , ,

I love poetry. I relish language that paints a picture in my head, leaves a song in my heart and gently touches my soul. But how do I incorporate poetic methods into my writing? And more importantly, how do I train my ear?

My solution was to subscribe to the Lyrical Language Lab channel on YouTube where Renee M. Latulippe reviews meter, rhyme and the musicality of our language.

For example in the following video Renee discusses Lyrical Prose and Poetic Techniques in Fiction Picture Books:

I found her review of the picture book Crown amazing.

This week Renee announced a prose poetry contest.

Entrants are required to:

  • write a prose poem (no meter please)
  • max length: 100 words (not including the title)
  • topic: summer snapshot

The poem must be easily understood by elementary, middle grade, or young adult readers. Entry fee: $10. First prize: $300. Entries are due July 21, 2024.

I invite you to explore Renee’s channel and, if you, like me, are inspired to dip your toe into the refreshing world of poetry, dare to enter the contest.

Kidd Wadsworth

Kidd’s stories are in the following anthologies:

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Featuring Kidd Wadsworth, Author of the Month

May 28, 2024 by in category Featured Author of the Month, Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as ,

Kidd Wadsworth writes to bring to life our magical, fire-breathing world. She believes we are super heroes. It’s time we put on our capes.

You can read Kidd’s monthly column, Infused with Meaning, here on the 25th of every month. More information about Kidd is found on her website, make sure you take the time to read her “about me” section.


A selection of books that include Kidd’s short stories.


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The Well Ordered Life by Kidd Wadsworth

May 25, 2024 by in category Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as , , ,
Photo by Mert Guller on Unsplash

Many years ago I dreamed up a prissy, meticulously neat, rigidly moral, character called Rebecca Howard.

Rebecca demands order at work, at home, even in her religion. A devout Catholic, she stands, sits and kneels precisely on cue. When Rebecca encounters her free living neighbor, an opera singer wannbe, her life becomes decidedly messy. She finds herself laughing—and living, again. But with all this life, this realness, the painful memories of the death of her one and only love return—and Rebecca doesn’t want to remember.

Liking the premise, I wrote the opening scene. But my critique group hated it. Earlier this week I reread the scene. I still like it. So, I’m asking you, my blog readers, to tell me what you think. A simple “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” in the comment section would be great. Thanks.

THE WELL-ORDERED LIFE OF REBECCA HOWARD

Forty-two year old Rebecca Howard had fifteen hats artistically arranged on an antique bookcase in her living room. She had seen such a display in a recent issue of Martha Steward Living. Rebecca Howard had exceedingly good taste, which was of course to say that she was adept at conforming to whatever the current fashion happened to be—in this case, hats. They were really quite beautiful. One was a sunbonnet. The kind your sweet grandmother might have worn as she skipped through a meadow of buttercups in the Spring of 1921 while hunting for the errant blueberry to bake in a muffin.

Every morning Rebecca woke to the annoying sound of a digital alarm clock she had purchased twenty-two years ago. But this morning, the heinous thing did not buzz. Indeed, it was never to buzz again. And no one, especially not Rebecca Howard, ever inquired why.

Instead Rebecca woke—seventy-six minutes late—to the sound of music, stunningly beautiful music, the notes of which floated on the air as if they had wings. Entranced, she rose and silently slid open her balcony door. For a moment she let herself breathe the melody.

Her apartment’s balcony jutted up against her neighbor’s. Since the day Rebecca had moved in, the apartment next door had been empty. So Rebecca had never created a screen between her balcony and her neighbor’s. Two doors down, Martha Hughes had isolated her outdoor space with a grouping of potted cacti. Next door to Rebecca, on her right, Harper Creech had hung a mural hand-painted by the mountain people of Peru, but to her left Rebecca had—nothing. So when at last she opened her eyes, she had an unobstructed view of the back of a young man, perhaps twenty-four, tall, slender, standing on the balcony next door, greeting the morning with song, butt-naked.

“Ahhh!” she cried out.

Unfortunately this caused the young man to turn around.

Please Vote and . . .

Happy Writing,

Kidd

Some of Kidd’s short stories are in the following anthologies:

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Featuring Kidd Wadsworth, Author of the Month

May 16, 2024 by in category Featured Author of the Month, Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as ,

Kidd Wadsworth writes to bring to life our magical, fire-breathing world. She believes we are super heroes. It’s time we put on our capes.

You can read Kidd’s monthly column, Infused with Meaning, here on the 25th of every month. More information about Kidd is found on her website, make sure you take the time to read her “about me” section.


A selection of books that include Kidd’s short stories.


0 0 Read more

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