On Phone Calls and Writing Bursts

Ever wanted to know how to become famous among your extended family? How to rise through the ranks of gossip topics that your aunts tear to bits at every family gathering?

Well, hunt no more, weary seeker. Through toil and torture I have searched and yearned (no, not really), but at long last, I have found a sure fire, two step method with guaranteed results.

It’s simple.

a)      Get an injury. Doesn’t have to be major, should just be large enough to constantly remind people of its existence and be a nuisance enough to make you complain about it once in a while just for kicks.

b)      Let your mother find out.

I had my incredible acrobatic feat at midnight Saturday in the Big City; and it was a full twenty four hours before I got home. I hadn’t told mum about my little predicament, obviously; but there’s no way to hide a drooping, swollen lip when it’s quite literally on your face.

It was kind of like Andrew Garfield turning around and showing Aunt May his face after his first night out in a proper Spidey costume, which, quite by chance, involved a close and extremely personal introduction with the front and side of a moving bus. I know, my cut was barely a fraction of what he had on his face, but the respective expressions involved in that exchange were pretty much the same: my mother was like “Oh God, what happened to you, how could this….” etc., and I was all, “It’s nothing, Mum, please, please go back to sleep…”

Honestly, the cut was nothing but an annoyance; as a writer, I am prone to exaggeration in my posts. But from the way my mother was reacting, you would have thought I would be incapable of talking or eating for the rest of my speechless and foodless life. The horror.

The next morning, the calls started coming in, from long forgotten aunts and cousins everywhere. My mother had outdone herself this time; every single caller was under the impression that I was in hospital, breathing my last.

This is the kind of thing that makes you love your mother all the more. I actually got so annoyed with my phone that I changed my ringtone (Owl City: Fireflies will probably never sound the same to me again); but it felt really good to know that she cared that much about me. Words really can’t express what I feel now.

Love you, Mum.

But seriously though, I dread the inpouring sympathy if anything serious were to happen, like for example if I were to stub my toe or nick myself shaving. (Shudder)

On a different note; Three weeks ago, I was killing time on Facebook with my Mathew profile. I fiddled around with the “Find Friends,” button, and in the list of suggestions below, I found one Brian Rogers, among so many other generic names and profile pictures.

What made me send a request this specific person? What made him accept a request from a guy with a name as presumptuous as Mathew Wordweaver?

(Oh yes, that’s right, I AM well aware of exactly how presumptuous my name sounds, thank you very much for noticing)

Answering the two rhetorical questions presented above the parenthesis, I’ll probably never know.

I started a chat with him, and after a while he told me about this group he had founded, called The Iron Writers, built around a weekly literary challenge. Four authors compete to write five hundred words, on four random elements, within four days. Neat or what?

And beyond that were other smaller challenges, based on a daily or weekly schedule. At the time, three weeks ago, there had been eighty nine members. The Iron Writers had been ironing their writing since 2013; it was a pretty solid and well working group.

Just as I was taking this all in, the greatest thing happened. He asked me to join.

And so, as of three weeks ago, I officially became an Iron Writer. My first ever writers group on Facebook. And, as a bonus, I became part of a page where I had the pleasure of meeting some of the greatest, most enthusiastic, witty and overall dangerous people that I have ever had the opportunity of crossing pens with.

But I wasn’t an Iron Writer yet. I still had to take the weekly Challenge, and since there were only four authors at a time, I had to be booked in advance. My first date was the 17^th, last week, but since I had my Big City spell, I had to reschedule… to today.

And so… today is the day is my challenge. On this day shall I take the test, nay, the honor! of initiation. And should I prove worthy, I may finally ascend into the ranks of the Iron Writers before me.

May my muse be with me.

(Lightsaber-pen hums)

(Remember how I said I just love exaggeration? I don’t know, it just seems to just come to me when I write. I’ve learnt to go with it)