Spent yesterday preparing a short story, a novella, and three poems for writing contests. Deadline for entry was midnight. I had the last of them turned in by 9 PM. Now it is up to the judges, the skill of the writing, some luck, and whether or not I scared off enough other potential entrants. Yes, I am kidding about the last part. I have no idea who else entered. I wanted to enter a non-fiction writing contest, but did not have my entry ready in time. Oh, well, maybe another time.
So, here is a bit of silliness for a Sunday morning (at least morning where I am right now), a limerick inspired by someone who suggested they should be naughty.
There once was a woman from Port Townsend
who traveled quite far and came home again.
Now by day she styles hair
and by night styles with care
words about her “new” life with family and friends.
I know, it’s not naughty. Maybe the next one.
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