I wrote a little story this morning, all about my literary offerings from 2021. To date, thirty-three have been sent out to competitions, journals, magazines, etc, and well, lets just say my success rate isn't 100%
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No Field of Wheat, Theresa
A farmer knows that much of their job is building (and
maintaining) the fencing around their plot. Keep the animals in/ keep the
predators out. God bless wire, or dry stone, or fencing panels.
This is a story about fencing panels.
I know, how exciting! But these are no ordinary panels, you wouldn’t
contemplate buying them in B&Q to block out the sight of your neighbour’s
back garden. These panels serve a very specific purpose; they keep your ego in
check.
Since January this year, farmer Beck has managed to
install thirty-three panels on her plot. As with most fencing, they look
similar. Not that they are that bright ginger wood that budget panels are made
in, no, they are the nice muted – almost greenish – brown panels, the ones that
can withstand a storm and don’t rot in six years.
Stretching down the oddly-angled
slope of her plot, from a distance you can see that some just don’t match up at
all. Look closely, run up and down as much as you like – this is no field of
wheat, Theresa.
Some have writing on them, repeating
the same word over and over again. True, they use different fonts, but still,
it’s the same word: NO.
They aren’t the worst panels to erect
though, not by a long way. Far worse (and far more abundant) are the
blank panels, the ones that sit there, nailed to posts, looking awkwardly
around. The ignored ones, who didn’t even warrant a NO. They are the black
sheep. My, what a lot of black sheep you have, farmer Beck – all the better to practice
taking rejection well, my dear.
But, oh, what are those gorgeous
bejewelled panels I see dotted around? What are those three, encrusted with sapphires
and emeralds and topazes? Why, they are the Makarelle panels! They are the ones
that bring hope, that keep the farmer plugging away each day, in the hope that
somebody else will like her work enough to publish it.
And what is this one, glowing
brightest orange like it is radioactive, or made of cheesy Wotsits? What, this
little thing? This is the CNF piece a charity shared via Instagram, read by
folk who had never heard of the farmer before. And they liked it.
I see. So not all misery then? And,
this last one, this doesn’t fit with any of the others. What is this one?
This is a very special NO. To be
exact, this is a NO, but…
And as we all know, sometimes, that ‘but’ is as good as a yes for keeping us going.
Now, if
you will excuse farmer Beck, she has some animals to feed.
