February 19, 2009 Recalling lies we told
February is President's month and we're fast approaching our first President's birthday, the Father of our Country, who as a boy, we were taught in school, never told a lie. We drew pictures of young George, gleaming ax in hand, getting ready to chop down a skinny cherry tree. Purportedly, he said, "I cannot tell a lie." I didn't know about George when I told my first lie. I knew that telling lies was just as bad, maybe worse, than biting my sister, for example, but there was also a better chance that I might not get caught. The lie I told and how it escalated and the surprising and moving resolution are still vivid in my mind. It would take up too much space to relate it here, but if you're interested, I'll be happy to share it when we meet.
So now the writing prompt: Today write about the first lie that you recall telling. Jot down as many specific details as you can remember, and use your senses. We use our "sight" sense so often, but today add in a touch word, a smell, a sound, and taste as well, if it happens to go along with your lie in some way.
If you happen to have a copy of my new book, Secrets of Greymoor http://www.amazon.com/ you'll know that Hattie tells a lie and one lie leads to another until they are out of control. She soon has a string of fanciful lies, but each one makes Hattie feel worse. How did your lie make you feel? How did you feel when you were writing about it?