So, there I was last weekend, badly needing a break from querying and revising and editing, when a silly idea for a short story popped into my mind. Now, I rarely read short stories and I even more rarely write them. But this idea was so stupid that I had to capture it.
The premise: what if a single woman living in a major urban environment chucked everything and went of to live in the country. Seeking peace and silence, this unnamed woman buys a farm, only to find that nature isn’t silent. Neither are the toys in her house. I didn’t go much further than this and took it to my Valley Writers critique group.
I have tons of comments about the start of the story. I think it needs to be much more sarcastic, very snarky, very contradictory. Very all the things not in the first draft. I thank everyone for scribbling red ink over the draft.
But one comment left me cold. “It sounds like you are rewriting Green Acres.” Green Acres? Took me all the way home to figure out the reference. I never watch sitcoms and had only one gray cell that recalled the name of this old TV show.
So, no, I have no conscious reason to rewrite Green Acres. This will just be me being my snarky best.