blogwritetheworld:

by Michael Lydon



As I sat down at my desk one frigid January afternoon early in (yikes!) 2019, I felt more than a little discombobulated. That’s a grand old word, old-fashioned but so much fun to say that I hope it never drops out of the language. Discombobulated’s six lumpy syllables make me see a goofy clown in a multi-colored balloon suit bouncing left and right as unicyclists swirl around him, knocking him down. Every time he tries to stand, the audience howls with laughter.



So, yes, I felt discombobulated: the holidays a fading memory, the new year a baby whimpering as it took its first trembling steps. What work could I put my mind to? How could I kickstart my brain into a project that might, if I concentrated, turn into something of value? I decided to head over to Write the World to see what my WtW pals were up to. So off I clicked and—shazaam!—I whooshed to a world of young writers bursting with experiments to try and bold notions to explore on the Flash Fiction and Free Writing prompts. Here LaraKroft from the United Arab Emirates on “Solitude”:

I want to remain in complete silence, staring outside the window, watching the city rev into motion or pleasant vistas, or scenery with a cup of tea in my hand or simply talking to myself or going for a walk in a forest. Solitude is something we experience rarely in an overcrowded world, but it is also something crucial to humans. Speaking to themselves, or pondering about their acts, letting the mind free all helps human beings.

Ryder from the United States found mid-winter pleasure eating apples from the fall:

Jody took an apple out of his pack. Its smooth, glossy red skin hid the wet insides. He took a bite and the juice trickled down his chin. It had a slightly grainy texture and was unexpectedly sour, but that was welcome. He enjoyed the different tastes that they had, each one was a surprise.

In the following flash fiction excerpt, tensions mount over the purchase of an outdoor furniture set. The humorous way that Winterwolf has depicted the characters’ annoyance with each other made me laugh:

Great. Just great. That’s all I can think to myself as the rain starts pouring down, instantly turning my windshield from clear to me without my glasses. Let me give you a hint: I’m legally blind without my glasses.

I told David we shouldn’t have gotten the outdoor furniture yet. I said, “No, the deck roof isn’t complete yet. Where are we going to put it?”

"Outside,“ he had replied, as if it was obvious.

"Outside?” I scoffed. “What if it rains?”

He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “It’s on CLEARANCE!” he yelled, gesturing towards the complete outdoor dining set. “We… will save… $100 dollars… if we buy this… now!” He said, his face red.

Pencils.and.paper.roses uses even fewer words to paint an affectionate portrait of her little sister:

I’m watching from a distance as my sister twirls at the barre. I smile as she executes a plié and clap lightly. Gotta love her.

I also found myself marveling at Megan Sartoris’s skill in lining up six lines of six words into an effective and positive poem:

Live today like it’s your last

Life, it’s bigger than six words

We believe in things worth believing

Some things are better left unsaid

“Wish I could” – So I did.

I’ll always be right behind you.

I don’t know how Dmoral13 did it, but something in her description of a brother and sister watching the sunset together brought a tear to my eye:

Perched upon the fence sat Marisol and her brother Drew, both watching the sun as it dipped behind the horizon. Marisol stared in awe at the mix of orange and pinks in the sky, as Drew struggled to maintain his balance on the thin fence.

“Don’t fall,“ Marisol warned, her gaze flickering to Drew.

“Let’s just go inside,” Drew huffed, jumping down.

“Drew,” Marisol sighed, joining him. “We’re going to miss the stars.”

Sofiabmsw (United States) got my hips shaking with her Flash Fiction poem, “At the Party”:z

It’s the speaker’s rhythmic beat,

Or the twirl of the skirts,

And maybe the pounding of our feet

As we prance across the dance floor.

Or, maybe, it’s the DJ calling out to us,

And we call back in a harmony of voices,

Our hands reached high as we jump,

and our joyful singing as we shuffle around.

Whatever it is about this party,

I never want to leave it ever again.

Well, is this column discombobulated enough for you? Meditative solitude, eating an apple, rain on patio furniture, a little kid at her ballet class—yes, life is bigger than six words!

Here’s what I’d like you to do. Stand up, take a deep breath, take a look all around yourself, then read the selections I’ve quoted above in a rich, full voice. As you read, think: all these word sounds, word pictures, and word colors, all these emotions and ideas—all came to you through words, through the alphabet, through commas and periods, question and exclamation marks, through your tongues and teeth and lips and palates, your breath, your diaphragms and lungs, your brains, your spirits!

Then, how can you put all that into words? Start simply, two or three short, common words. Look around yourself and word paint something you see—a pink pen by a coffee cup, a sparrow on a window box. What about a sound—school kids laughing on their way home. An emotion? A word on the weather?—maybe an early spring chill. Phrase by phrase, picture by picture, you’re building a little world. People live in that world, they have ideas, emotions, memories, hopes…

And on you go! Remember, your brand new word world is not perfect. Just as in the real world, things go wrong, hopes don’t come true, and life gets, what’s the word for it? Yes, I know, discombobulated!

About Michael Lydon



Michael Lydon is a writer and musician who lives in New York City. Author of many books, among them Rock Folk, Boogie Lightning, Ray Charles: Man and Music, and Writing and Life. A founding editor of Rolling Stone, Lydon has written for many periodicals as well, the Atlantic Monthly, New York Times, and Village Voice.



He is also a songwriter and playwright and, with Ellen Mandel, has composed an opera, Passion in Pigskin. A Yale graduate, Lydon is a member of ASCAP, AFofM local 802, and on the faculty of St. John’s University.