Vevlyn L. Wright shops her memoir
Stanice, below is a query letter that I'd like to post on your open mic page, if you will allow it. It is an excerpt from my memoir. It is also approx. 600 words.
AFTER pulling myself up I took a rest on the futon.
Five minutes later I scooted to the edge in preparation for getting to my feet. Here, I perched another couple of minutes. Standing, I immediately caught hold of my footstool and from there made my way to the bathroom, using as props en route, the armoire, French doors in my living room/bedroom, hall stand and finally the wall on the hall. My business in the toilet took about ten minutes, including rest breaks.
Again using the wall hall as a prop, I traversed the short distance from the bathroom to the washroom.
Initially, I sat on the edge of the bathtub to undress but immediately stood up for fear of falling in. I stumbled the few steps over to the washing machine and used it as a prop while I disrobed. Ambling back over to the bathtub, I eased in slowly and turned on the showerhead, allowing the spray to pelt my chest. I became dizzy. The room began turning slowly. It began to darken … I was roused – how many minutes later I am not sure - by my doorbell. It was Richard. I hollered that I would meet him downstairs.
On Tuesday morning, I was alive and very tired as I dialed the hematology department at Hôtel-Dieu to arrange for a blood transfusion. On the way downstairs, I experienced another small blackout, my third since Friday but still I managed to meet Richard who was waiting outside. The two of us rode in silence. I was too tired to talk and I think Richard sensed it.
"We're here," he said, cheerfully. It was shortly after 10:30.
With much effort I sat up to take in my surroundings.
To the right was a large plaza littered with people -- tourists by the look of them. From the vantage point of an airplane they would resemble an army of ants. In the midst stood a breathtaking structure, not at all a rare sight in Paris. In a few days, I would discover that this was Notre Dame. But today it was just another pretty facade.
Richard helped me out of the car and the short distance across the Place du Parvis Notre-Dame to the hospital lobby where he ensconced me in a chair while he went back out to find a parking space . . .
The excerpt above is taken from "I am I am,” the working title of my memoir. It chronicles the experiences of my first year in Paris, how I believe God saw me through them and how I dealt with them as a Christian.
A little about Me. I am a Michigan native who grew up in Louisiana and lived in various corners of the country, including Chicago, Boston and Dallas. A little more than a year ago, I returned to the States (locating to Washington, D.C.) after five years in Paris. I studied at Southern (LA) University, Northwestern (IL) University and the University of Missouri-Columbia, where I received a master's degree in journalism.
In addition to the aforementioned works, I have as a staffer and freelancer written and edited scores of articles for the likes of The International Herald Tribune, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the publishing imprint of UNESCO and The Patriot Ledger (Quincy, MA).
My literary output also includes two anthologies and a short story collection. Currently, I am putting the finishing touches on a book of poetry. These poems — threaded with sadness, anger, sardonic humor and hope —have been well-received in Boston, Paris and Washington.
It is my wish, hope and prayer to secure a worthy, visionary publisher/agent to help me get this memoir and My other works onto the shelves of Barnes & Noble and other book emporiums.
Vevlyn L. Wright
E-mail: Vevlyn@yahoo.com
2005 Copyright Vevlyn L. Wright
AFTER pulling myself up I took a rest on the futon.
Five minutes later I scooted to the edge in preparation for getting to my feet. Here, I perched another couple of minutes. Standing, I immediately caught hold of my footstool and from there made my way to the bathroom, using as props en route, the armoire, French doors in my living room/bedroom, hall stand and finally the wall on the hall. My business in the toilet took about ten minutes, including rest breaks.
Again using the wall hall as a prop, I traversed the short distance from the bathroom to the washroom.
Initially, I sat on the edge of the bathtub to undress but immediately stood up for fear of falling in. I stumbled the few steps over to the washing machine and used it as a prop while I disrobed. Ambling back over to the bathtub, I eased in slowly and turned on the showerhead, allowing the spray to pelt my chest. I became dizzy. The room began turning slowly. It began to darken … I was roused – how many minutes later I am not sure - by my doorbell. It was Richard. I hollered that I would meet him downstairs.
On Tuesday morning, I was alive and very tired as I dialed the hematology department at Hôtel-Dieu to arrange for a blood transfusion. On the way downstairs, I experienced another small blackout, my third since Friday but still I managed to meet Richard who was waiting outside. The two of us rode in silence. I was too tired to talk and I think Richard sensed it.
"We're here," he said, cheerfully. It was shortly after 10:30.
With much effort I sat up to take in my surroundings.
To the right was a large plaza littered with people -- tourists by the look of them. From the vantage point of an airplane they would resemble an army of ants. In the midst stood a breathtaking structure, not at all a rare sight in Paris. In a few days, I would discover that this was Notre Dame. But today it was just another pretty facade.
Richard helped me out of the car and the short distance across the Place du Parvis Notre-Dame to the hospital lobby where he ensconced me in a chair while he went back out to find a parking space . . .
The excerpt above is taken from "I am I am,” the working title of my memoir. It chronicles the experiences of my first year in Paris, how I believe God saw me through them and how I dealt with them as a Christian.
A little about Me. I am a Michigan native who grew up in Louisiana and lived in various corners of the country, including Chicago, Boston and Dallas. A little more than a year ago, I returned to the States (locating to Washington, D.C.) after five years in Paris. I studied at Southern (LA) University, Northwestern (IL) University and the University of Missouri-Columbia, where I received a master's degree in journalism.
In addition to the aforementioned works, I have as a staffer and freelancer written and edited scores of articles for the likes of The International Herald Tribune, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, the publishing imprint of UNESCO and The Patriot Ledger (Quincy, MA).
My literary output also includes two anthologies and a short story collection. Currently, I am putting the finishing touches on a book of poetry. These poems — threaded with sadness, anger, sardonic humor and hope —have been well-received in Boston, Paris and Washington.
It is my wish, hope and prayer to secure a worthy, visionary publisher/agent to help me get this memoir and My other works onto the shelves of Barnes & Noble and other book emporiums.
Vevlyn L. Wright
E-mail: Vevlyn@yahoo.com
2005 Copyright Vevlyn L. Wright
posted by Stanice Anderson, Author, Inspirational Speaker, Performance Artist at 12:47 PM
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