T is for . . .

Tagged.

Thanks, Faith, who tagged me for the Lucky Seven Meme and put me in the company of some fine, accomplished writers.

I’m supposed to share seven lines or paragraphs from the seventh line on page seventy of my novel. Trouble is, I don’t have a page seventy of my novel. I don’t even have a page seven yet! But I need all the feedback I can get so . . .

I hope seven paragraphs from my middle-grade short story will be okay. It doesn’t have a page seven either, so how about if I start in the middle of page three?—That’s half of seven. [*Hey, as long as I’m cheating changing the rules, I may as well make major changes, right? Mind if I go along with you for tattoos, Faith?]

     Vikki gave me a hand up and volunteered to walk the two blocks home with me. “Good girls,” Mrs. Prebble said, patting each of us on the shoulder and walking away.

     She'd rounded the corner when I realized what I had to do. "I'll be right back, Vikki."

      "Mrs. Prebble, wait!” I shouted. Lumbering after her, I actually jingled! Jing-a-ling-a-ling.

      She was already at her desk stapling papers. I slung my backpack to the floor. “I almost forgot,” I said, out of breath, opening my pack. “I was taking up donations like you asked me to right before the fire drill … and I was in a hurry to go outside—” I pulled out the box, “—so I shoved this in here.” A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. “And then I sort of forgot about it . . . until now.”

      Somehow, the box seemed lighter than it did on my back. I held it out to her, reverently, as if it were a gift from the magi or something. She took it, tilted her head slightly.

      I made a dash for the door, but she called my name and I had to turn back.

      Still holding the box, she fixed me in her gaze. I shifted from foot to foot. I gulped. She knows. Taking a deep breath, I prepared for the worst.

Now, I’m supposed to tag seven bloggers, but I’m only going to tag six. See above.* And they are (Envelope, please):

Leslie S. Rose
Margo Berendsen
Ilima K. Todd
Heather Spiva 
Jennifer Forbes 
Patricia Stoltey

I hope you’ll all share your talents with us, but if you can’t, for whatever reason, that’s okay.

 
Here are the rules:
1. Go to page 77 of your manuscript.
2. Go down 7 lines.  
3. Post the next 7 lines, sentences, or paragraphs on your blog.
4. Tag 7 new writers.

That’s it!

http://flic.kr/p/5rZofQ

Except...

Before I was tagged, T was to be for . . .

Tree and True.

Turns out they’re related. 

Quoting from thefreedictionary.com, “the words true and tree are joined at the root, etymologically speaking.” 

Read the full reference yourself if you’re so inclined. If not, here’s the short version. Both words derive from the Indo-European root, “deru-” or “dreu-,” having to do with wood or firmness. Both are also related to a third form of the same root, “dru-,” as in Druid, the Celtic priest of the oak grove.

Then there’s that further connexion. The Man who died on the Tree said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”