Editor’s Insight | Sandi Parsons
To boldly go beyond six words
Dogs have been my constant companions.
I’ve always been a dog person, much to my mother’s despair.
My mother only had eyes for horses. I played with the stable dog, Daisy, as my mother mucked out stalls and groomed horses. Daisy’s belly got bigger and bigger each week. Until one day, I arrived at the stable to find little puppies scooting about. And then came the day I chose one to be mine.
While Lassie was the first dog I chose myself, she wasn’t my first dog — Pusso was my first doggy companion. She’d happily go along with whatever game I wanted to play. Pusso had diabetes, and my gran gave her daily injections.
Scamp followed Pusso. He lived up to his name and was an escape artist. He performed his Houdini tricks one time too many and disappeared. Lassie arrived to fill the void Scamp left.
Around the time I turned eight, Lassie had puppies of her own, and my gran kept one — Sam. They were small shaggy terriers. Melting pot mongrels that looked like miniature Old English Sheepdogs.
Scruffy, a heeler mix, was my first rescue dog. As my twenty-first birthday approached, I spent a lot of time with Scruffy gaining her trust. Scruffy birthed her second puppy, Monkey, into my hands. Monkey was my perfect companion for the next seventeen years.
Pepsi was the first dog I ever purchased. The first dog deliberately selected that hadn’t come into my life by random chance and my first purebred dog. And boy, was she TROUBLE!
Pepsi’s exaggerated antics featured in my children’s novel Pepsi the Problem Puppy. Pepsi also gave me another first — one I hope I don’t experience again. Pepsi was diagnosed with canine cancer at seven, so I gave her a bucket list.
Trouble followed Pepsi in the form of Chilli and Rotto — regular SWPSC readers will be familiar with their shenanigans!
My nose is usually in a book when I’m not playing with my problem puppies (or covered in their fur). This too, caused my mother great despair — why, oh why couldn’t I go outside and play like other children? My love of books rivals my passion for dogs, so I became a librarian.
I’ve made a life-long habit of defying statistics
In the early seventies, children born with Cystic Fibrosis (CF) weren’t expected to see their teenage years. A doctor told my mother there was a 50% chance I wouldn’t live to see my thirteenth birthday. This year I’m turning fifty. I wasn’t supposed to ‘get old’, so I delight in getting older.
Growing up, I was told that people with CF were infertile. So having a child was out of the question. My son will be twenty-seven this year. I was the fifth woman with CF in Western Australia to have a child. Now thousands of women with CF are mothers. There’s a small elite club for grandmothers with CF that I’m busting to join. I’ve even got a hashtag picked out #SaltyGranny. Unfortunately, I’m dependent on others to join the club and smash that statistic. 🤣🤣
Lung transplants have lower survival rates than other organ transplants. Any respiratory illness creates a high-risk factor that our body’s defenses will ‘detect’ the foreign lungs. The average outcomes are five to seven years. People with CF score slightly better, averaging out at around ten years. I’ve just celebrated my eleventh-anniversary post lung transplant. I’m working on symmetry and going for thirty-eight years. I got thirty-eight years out of my original lungs, so it feels like it might be achievable. Anyway, you’ve got to have a goal, and no one thought I’d get this far.
Living with CF helped me gain my superpower. We liked to show off at CF Camps. So one year, I trained hard. It paid off, and I walked away with a certificate for swallowing twenty-seven tablets with a tiny sip of water. It’s a feat I can still do. But honestly, when you take upwards of seventy tablets a day, it’s just practical. 🤣🤣
My Six Word Photo Story Journey
Early in 2021, I took a leap of faith and joined a Medium Writing Club led by Kelly Eden and Ash Jurberg. Along with learning and networking, I made a few writing buddy friends in the group — including Mary Chang Story Writer.
Mary loves photo stories. First, she challenged group members to write photo stories. I like to dabble in photography, so I gave it a whirl along with some other group members. My first story was The Owl Who Adopted a School, followed by The Quest For the Perfect Quokka Photo.
But Mary wasn’t done with her challenge!
Next, she challenged the group members to write a six-word photo story. I picked up the gauntlet in July 2021 with a story featuring — you guessed it, one of my pooches!
With her exceptional “Mary enthusiasm” (all those cartwheels power it!), she launched the Six Word Photo Story Challenge.
Mary had me hooked on six word photo stories even though I’m not a fan of writing ‘short’. My first post in this publication once again featured Rotto. More shenanigans! This time, it was The Mysterious Case of the Missing Basil.
Next, I took my love of six word photo stories offline. Six word photo stories were the perfect holiday assignment. Students in my Year Six Extension Writing class wrote some cracking six word stories.
I love writing six word photo stories because of the ease with which you can make the words do double duty. With a bit of tweaking, six word photo stories make perfect social media posts. (Yes, I’m a little embarrassed to admit how long it took me to ‘click’ to that fact!)
My journey has come full circle — from challenge participant to teacher and now Six Word Photo Story Challenge editor.
Sandi Parsons is an award-winning school librarian with over 20 years experience working in educational libraries. She lives with her favorite husband and two problem puppies. She loves writing Six Word Photo Stories.
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