Mary C. M. Phillips

Since 1977, Bad Hemingway (an annual writing competition), 
published the best pieces of Hemingway mockery you could imagine from here to where the sun also rises.

The rules were simply that the writer mention Harry’s Bar & American Grill (Hemingway’s favorite watering hole), and be written in Hemingway’s style.

Joining the ranks of Bad Hemingway and Bad Faulkner books now comes Bad Austen…as in Jane.

I’m delighted (but, by no means proud!) to report that — in the spirit of  Pemberley — my short story will be included in the upcoming Bad Austen available in bookstores in November!

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I have two stories in the new A Cup of Comfort for Christian Women from Adams Media.

This past week I had a chance to read the entire anthology and can’t be happier with my sisters-in-page!  

After dropping my son off at a birthday party today, my husband and I spent some time in Barnes & Noble and found the book prominently displayed.

So, I went ahead and snapped a couple of photos; humility waning.

A good day.  I saw my book in the store and there were no injuries during laser-tag at the party!

God is good.

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“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”

From Corelli’s Mandolin

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While in my own transition, in terms of writing, I read something from Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott.  It’s helping me — and I think — it can apply to all forms of writing; be it poetry or songwriting, but what do I know?  All I know is that I like this and it’s hitting a chord.

We write to expose the unexposed.  If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must.  Otherwise, you’ll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you’ve already been in.  Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut.  But the writer’s job is to see what’s behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words–not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues.

Oh boy, the entire chapter is worth copying and pasting, but I’ll leave it at that.

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