Poem a Day 10: Smell This . . .

Today Robert Brewer suggests we dive back into the senses to write a poem using 'smell' in some way. Check out more at Writer's Digest! I hope you enjoy.

Smell This!

Just sometimes, I'll enter a restaurant
or my kitchen, filled with want: 

the rich smells assault my nose;
I'm drawn right in, head to toes,
Mexican, Chinese, Indonesian, or Thai,
I do not question why
that first taste makes me get that suitcase out
ready for walkabout, guided by my snout.

In self-defense, it's not really about smell,
for that would be it's own hell,
to not see or taste? What a waste!
I invite you to come for just a taste,
when all else begins to unravel
and we can't quite travel,
I'll make a special dish
to satisfy your every wish
and we'll seek a simple bliss,

together, with all our senses unleashed,

we'll feed the beast.

Image by Matteo Orlandi from Pixabay

Poem a Day 9: Breaking/Not Broken

Today's prompt from Robert Brewer, of Writer's Digest, for National Poetry Month is to write a breaking poem. Brewer says that "the poem could be about breaking down walls, break dancing, breaking up, or breaking stuff. However you'd like to break it down and then write your poem."

Breaking/Not Broken

There is no broken glass
No shattered door, no screaming
in the night, no, we did not hold
our breath, waiting
for what we did not know
was possible,
until the skies exploded
and buildings fell
around us, and we died.
Leaders in council rooms
gather to vote,
yay or nay, the risks greater
than one life or two,

or several hundred.
After all, they nod 

and nod again. 

Putin has gone too far.

We must draw a line,

take a stand, but . . .

they pause. 

Our resistance may take us all
to a nuclear world war. For now,
the bombs fall only in Ukraine.

For now.

Just this morning, the Guardian released news that Boris Johnson's took a surprise visit to meet with Zelensky in Kyiv. Johnson promised: "We will provide support so that Ukraine is never invaded again." Also in the news, Sweden and Finland, with its 800 mile border next to Russia, may join NATO by summer. All this complicates those ongoing talks in public meetings and behind closed doors as well as life in Ukraine as Russian attacks continue.

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2022-april-pad-challenge-day-9

Poem a Day 8: What They Never Tell You

Today's prompt from Robert Brewer for Day 8 of the Poem a Day Challenge is to write a 'what they never tell you' poem. 

Robert Brewer says: "I'm not sure who "they" are, but "they" talk a lot, and there are things people tell you, and there are things you just have to learn on your own, because "they" (them again) never tell you ahead of time. Like, for instance, "they" never told me that I'd still feel like a teenager in my 40s, but here we are. Think about what "they" never tell (or told) you, and write that poem."

What They Never Tell You

I don't know what every mother feels
that moment when her new child
is born, and she holds that infant
in her arms for the first time.
I only know my world seemed to stop
and start anew, for you were here,

my daughter,
a force entirely unto yourself,
yet shaped by dreams and hope,

and now, unexpected change.

I tried to tell you over the years

what that moment meant.

I'm not sure my words ever held

that sense of surprise and delight,

until that day, your own daughters

nearby, you said to me,

your face easing into a heartfelt smile,

"Now I know what you meant."

Image by Yashwanth Madhu from Pixabay

Poem a Day 7: Too Much

Today's prompt by Robert Brewer for Day 7 of the Poem a Day Challenge is simply to write about abundance. 

Perhaps 'having abundance' means having more than we need. A quick check Merriam-Webster's dictionary defines abundance as "1. an ample quantity : an abundant amount : profusion a city that has an abundance of fine restaurants. 2 : affluence, wealth a life of abundance." 

But further down the search page, GoodNet offers a slightly different definition: "In a spiritual context, the notion of abundance or plenty is less about material conditions, revolving instead (once basic needs are met), around an appreciation of life in its fullness, joy and strength of mind, body and soul."

Too Much

This morning brings a profusion of choices,
words on the page prolific, lush,
too much. 

There is no surplus when
you live close to the bone.
Too many families know nothing of plenty,
each day a dash to balance what is there
with what is not. Just for today,
I want to walk under a sheer blue sky,
grateful for shoes that don't pinch.

We hold hands,
the sweet smell of spring around us,
the tiniest buds opening everywhere;

overhead, geese fly south,

the snow on nearby mountains melts,

and I feel as if

I could breathe in abundance.

Image by Anrita1705 from Pixabay

IWSG and A Poem a Day 6: Words in the Air

Today's prompt by Robert Brewer for Day 6 of the Poem a Day Challenge is to take the phrase "a (blank) in the (blank)," replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "Poem in the Pocket," or "Skin in the Game," or whatever phrase you find appealing.

Words in the Air

If ever a writer wrote
a story, a poem, a book, then
faced down the challenge of reading those words
into a microphone or in front of an audience,
those words that floated once in imagination,
that took shape on paper, on a computer screen,
slowly emerged from dreams into scenes,
somehow now hover in the air
to beguile, to transform into something,
something entirely new.
Was that the goal? To bring to life
that first gasp of an almost word,

a heart's cry shaped to air,
ever after irrevocably here?

Those words take on their own direction,

their own meaning as others

repeat them: What brings change

as we listen? How are we changed?

Which words, which lines resonate for us,

forever fixed in our own imagination?

Zelensky's pleas yet echo.

As Robert Frost wrote, 

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

and sorry I could not travel both . . . ."

Sometimes we hear and do not listen.

We do not change.

We do not act.

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

Today also marks the first Wednesday of the month, another writing challenge, the  Insecure Writer's Support Group. Nearly 140 writers, including me, post our thoughts on our blogs to celebrate writing in some way -- maybe sharing doubts or concerns, maybe celebrating our writing achievements, or offering encouragement to each other.

If you'd like to participate, why not sign up, post your own thoughts on your blog, check out the guidelines on the IWSG LINK, and visit about 12 other writers! 

Stop by our co-hosts for this month and say thank you to: Joylene Nowell Butler, Jemima Pett, Patricia Josephine, Louise - Fundy Blue, and Kim Lajevardi.

This month's IWSG optional question is: Have any of your books been made into audio books? If so, what is the main challenge in producing an audiobook? (And now you know where today's poem began . . . )

Yes, two of my books have been made into audiobooks. Most challenging was finding a reader for the process is time-consuming and expensive. You can pay upfront (typically hundreds of dollars per hour) or create a royalty share. Either way, the recompense to author or voice actor is small and slow. Some people suggest that listeners would like to hear the author voice her own story. That requires special equipment and possibly renting a studio (or creating one in a closet with blankets).

The process itself is no less daunting, for after the voice actor completes his or her work, the author must review every sound bite, send corrections, and review those corrections. Both times, this part of the process took months. I hope to hear more positive experiences from other IWSG writers.

And an update on my writing: Covid still affects us all in unexpected ways. My beta reader happily is recovering, but I'm still holding my breath a bit as I wait for her comments on the final, hopefully final draft of Scattered Stones, my next historical novel set in Scotland in the 1840s, set to launch at the end of April. 

I'm still looking for a few more readers who are willing to read and review in exchange for a free advance copy of Scattered Stones. Please do e-mail me if you are interested! 

Poem a Day 5: Make Sense?

Today's prompt by Robert Brewer for Day 5 of the Poem a Day Challenge is a 'Two for Tuesday' poem. That is, two prompts to write either one or combine, as you wish. Prompt 1: Make sense. Prompt 2: Don't make sense. Robert Brewer always includes his own response to inspire us. Today, his poem (see link above) is heartfelt.

Make Sense?

Why do we strive for order each day,
our calendars full, priorities set, 
as if our belief in what makes sense could be touched.

Scientists know this: 

They note the spider's web turning with purpose,

truly only one goal: to survive.

Neanderthals knew this: 

the men hunted; the women gathered.

If needed, the women hunted; the men gathered.

We take each day and survive. 

If bills are paid, no one can evict us?

If we fill out all the papers, 

if we wear masks, we will be safe?

Promises are made and kept, or not. 

No matter the loud noises in the night 

or the terror of bombs.

This world makes no sense at all.

I'm not sure what lines are drawn,

or when they will be crossed

as I sip my hot tea and listen to the news,

each day recounting atrocities.

I wait for some good resolution,

without much hope, knowing

somehow we will survive this,

even if it makes no sense at all.

Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

Poem a Day 4: Catch Up

Today's prompt by Robert Brewer for Day 4 of the Poem a Day Challenge is simply to write a 'catch up' poem.

Each morning, still and observant,

quiet and receptive, I sing my own

daily not-routine, as others rush
to work, their watches ticking, 

their schedules masked over
with unending lists of urgent 'to do'. 

Instead, I ponder the craft 

that led to this tiny, delicate carving of a raven,
black obsidian, about as big as my index finger,

and wonder at the memory
of walking through a lava tube on Kona, so eerily large,
easily twenty feet high and several hundred feet long.
Once hot lava rushed like commuters to the sea, 

building new land,
as it flowed on its own schedule.

Perhaps I'm grateful each day for this quiet time,

perhaps I do miss working at times.

These days, retired, I create my own sense of order,

and choose when to catch up.  

 

Sunset at Kona (2022)

Poem a Day 3: Walking the Seasons

Today's prompt for the third day of A Poem a Day (PAD) Challenge invites us to write a poem somehow inspired by smell. Well, I do enjoy cooking and could have fun with that, but instead, I'm drawn outside and cannot tell you which is my favorite season.

Winter bites my nose. 

Even snow blinds the senses. 

Yet we walk, sometimes slipping, 

our feet crunch tiny crystals into powder,

mixed with pine needles,

a hint of wood smoke now and then 

as we turn home.
Spring brings hope with every blossom,
new and fragile. Delicate yellow daffodils waver,

then bloom. Hyacinths, slow to bud, 
burst open. A riot of purple scent tickles
our way into those longer days of summer
and roses, red and peach and pink petals
unfolding until fall.
Maple and crabapple trees transform themselves,

dark orange and darker red, 

their leaves dry and twist in the wind,

releasing a brisk and crisp hint

of coming cold.  

We watch the geese fly south,

taking a last turn around the pond,

nearly glazed with ice,

and winter returns.

Image by Ricardo Capdepón from Pixabay

Poem a Day 2: Second Chance

Robert Brewer's suggested topic for the second day of A Poem a Day (PAD) Challenge is a doozy.  I can only share my poem, knowing it came from my first reaction to his prompt.

Second Chance

If I stumble, if I fall,
after all these years we've shared,

and now in our eighth decade,
would you give me a second chance?
I don't even have to ask.
Your morning smile says 'Yes!'

And yet doubt remains: for one day,
you will leave me.
Or I will leave you.
I really don't know how I would live without you.

That hard-won belief we'd meet again,

in a second life or heaven, doesn't hold true.

I only believe there is a beginning

and an end.

For now, the sun rises each  morning,

you smile, and I hope

to cherish each day.

Image by jplenio on Pixabay

Poem a Day 1: Dreaming into Spring

Today marks the very first day of April. Last night, temperatures lurked near freezing, but on the way to the pond, we saw budding hyacinths, daffodils, and the first leaves of tulips pushing their way out of the ground.

Today also marks the beginning of the National Poetry Month with a challenge: To write a poem a day through the month of April. As we cautiously move past Covid restrictions, I'm not quite sure I'm ready. Perhaps this month will bring more haiku forms than longer verses, but that exercise each day of opening up to the possibility of a poem is intriguing. Writing poetry can be an act of reflection, of becoming more aware of what is around you and what is within. I shall begin. Will you join me?

Dreaming into Spring

Was winter this year and last 

so long that I could not remember 

the color of the pond 

underneath all that ice?

Even the sun seemed frozen in the sky.

Time stopped, as I counted the days

into weeks, hoping that routine would ease

our self-imposed isolation.

Now masks off, like the first flowers of spring,

long dormant, we stick out our heads, 

wrinkle our noses, and sniff in all directions,

celebrating anew old friends and old places revisited,

exploring what once carried such risk. 

Yesterday, we simply stayed at home. 

Today and tomorrow, all the tomorrows ahead,

we dream of possibility. 

Check out resources for National Poetry Month at the Academy of American Poets. Join Robert Brewer, of Writer's Digest, and learn more about his poetry challenge (PAD poem-a-day!) by going HERE or to discover his Day 1 poetry prompt, go HERE.  Explore and share your poems! Spring is nearly here.

Seagrass from Pixabay

Call for Reviewers!

Yesterday, as I was working on final revisions on the very last chapter of Scattered Stones, I stopped, realizing that the story was finished! What a moment.

Now the book is off to beta readers. I'm hoping in another month to have it ready to publish. Hooray! 

If you would like to be a member of my Advance Review Team, you can receive a free copy of Scattered Stones in exchange for your honest review. 

Just e-mail me to let me know you'd like to join my team!

bluebethley@yahoo.com 

Hot Rocks on Hawaii

We drove from Hilo, all the way down to the National Volcano Park, stopping to admire the lava fields along the way; in places, they stretched from the skyline, all the way to the ocean. I was intrigued by the signs of life, for even the darkest lava fields were spotted with new growth. I'm guessing delicate ferns aren't so delicate if they could survive here! I could trace great swirls on the rocks that showed how the lava cooled.

As we stood at the rim of the volcano caldera, we could see an active pool far below, marked by steam vents and, once in a while, a tiny flare of fire. 

"Come back at night," the park guide said. "You'll see amazing views." I thought of the two and a half hour drive back to Kona that was ahead of us. We did have a peanut butter sandwich in the car, and we were tempted. For a moment.

We passed signs that reminded us when we reentered the "No Fault Zone." Of course, Allen said it wasn't my fault, but I confess to feeling a little better when we were further away from that simmering volcano. We also saw many closed shops in several small towns as we drove north once again. Covid remains rather like the lava, seemingly permanent, changing all in its path. Most people wear masks, inside and out here, more an accepted routine.  

Now in our temporary home for the next week, we swam in the pool, soaked our feet in the hot tub, watched doves settle in nearby palms, and wondered what it will feel like to go back home.

WRITING UPDATE: Not much to report. I'm working on the very last chapter of Scattered Stones, waiting for that moment that says, "Aha! I'm done!" Still feeling thankful that I can write still -- and that readers like my stories enough to leave a review now and then. 

Every once in awhile, I check Amazon to see new reviews have been posted. That brightens the morning. Brings a smile to my face, and reminds me to leave reviews for those stories I enjoy. Dear readers, THANK YOU for reading and for letting me know what you think!

READING UPDATE: Allen just finished Jason Mott's Hell of a Book, calling it an exceptional read, well written, creative, witty, and immensely satisfying. I'm reading that next!

Have a wonderful week ahead!

Visiting Pu’uhonua (A Place of Refuge)

Not quite recovered from jet lag, we ventured out to Pu’uhonua, the Royal Grounds, a kind of living history in the summer but quiet just now.  Here, we wandered past rich murals and attended a lecture that explained a little of Hawaii’s history and culture.

Sometime between 1100 and 1400, the Hawaiian people came to these islands in boats from Polynesia and Tahiti. Between 1400-1600, the chiefs created a separate and sacred place to live. 

All followed strict rules (kapu); violating kapu could mean death — even as simple as a man and a woman eating a meal together, or eating a certain type of fish at the wrong time of year. 

View of Great Wall and Royal Mausoleum (Hale o Keawe)

Here, the first temple was created, and here also, a place of refuge for those who violated kapu — if they could reach it! Our guide talked of people fleeing through the jungle or swimming across the bay, hunted all the way. Not everyone who sought refuge made it to safety.

These wooden images represent Hawaiian gods called ki’i and protect the bones of ancestors buried here, a place of great mana (spiritual power).

Everything began to change when Captain Cook sailed to Hawaii in 1779. All this history makes me want to run to the library for more information after walking on these beautiful grounds under a very warm sun, just made bearable by a cooling ocean breeze! Aloha!

WRITING UPDATE: Morning quiet means the final revisions are going well. I'm working on the very last section of Scattered Stones. Exciting to see this story almost finished. And, yet, here we are in Hawaii, bringing me thoughts of Jamie, Moira's youngest brother, who at just a little over 10 years old, left her in Inverness to join a ship bound for China -- stopping at Hawaii along the way. 

Is that the next story? Or should I begin work on that second art crimes story set in Egypt?

HELP? I am looking for folks who might be interested in joining my Advance Reviewer team! Please send me an e-mail if YOU are interested!

On the road at the Big Island

 We survived the long plane ride (only some 7.5 hours, flight time to Kailua/Kona on the big island of Hawaii), the long lines for Covid protocols (skipped because I did homework before we left to get pre-cleared), and the time change (3 hours earlier). My body is not sure even now, one day after landing, whether we're 3 hours earlier or 3 hours later! But we do have two full weeks here before returning home to the land of snow.

This morning we woke to no food in our lovely condo. Scary. First drive into town with our rented car (first time using a keyless car with no how-to manual). Our mission? To find a breakfast spot, a lovely cafe with veranda seating overlooking the ocean -- and coffee! Lots of folks walking along the beachfront wearing shorts (84F) and it's 9am. I guess they were smart because that sun got a little warmer in the afternoon, but I'm not complaining.

But maybe the birds were complaining because they kept close watch over our breakfast! We spotted two Yellow Billed Cardinals (actually 'hunting' for snacks very close to our table), and a Mynah bird. You can check out pictures HERE or admire my blurry picture below! And, yes, that's a smidge of the ocean just a few steps away!

More on our adventures tomorrow -- and maybe an update on the writing!

May you have a lovely day -- and thank YOU for visiting!

IWSG: How do we write when change comes?

Welcome to the first Wednesday in March 2022. No question about it. This last week has led to many dismaying hours in front of the television. Yet, today, honors Insecure Writer's Support Group. Nearly 140 writers, including me, post our thoughts on our blogs to celebrate writing in some way -- maybe sharing doubts or concerns, maybe celebrating our writing achievements, or offering encouragement. 

If you'd like to participate, why not sign up, post your own thoughts on your blog, sign up (see guidelines on the IWSG LINK, and visit about 12 other writers! Stop by our co-hosts for this month and say thank you to: Janet Alcorn, Pat Garcia, Natalie Aguirre, and Shannon Lawrence!

This month's IWSG optional question is: Have you ever been conflicted about writing a story or adding a scene to a story? How did you decide to write it or not?

I like to write stories about people in difficult situations who somehow find their way to a better life, whether with a loved one or not. I do believe in that 'happy ever after' for my characters. Sometimes my stories take me to darker times. For example, my three-book series (now almost four books!) that began with Standing Stones set in 1840s Scotland, begins when Lord Gordon, eager to profit from the Industrial Revolution, evicts traditional farmers from their homes, replacing them with sheep. The history is brutal; the struggles were real for far too many.

Where do people find courage and hope when faced with catastrophic change?

Loss can be measured in so many different ways.

We only need to turn on the television to see another tragedy unfolding.

This month, I'm working on final revisions for Scattered Stones, the last book in my series. I had hoped to be finished by the end of March -- but I'm feeling so distracted, not even line editing catches my attention. 

So, an invitation arrived. To fly away to Hawaii for two weeks -- in just 6 days. Are we going? Yes. Am I taking the writing and hope to reconnect with my muse? Yes. Will I sit quietly in wonder at sunsets in this quiet place? Maybe simply walk along the beach, grateful for each moment that feels like a respite from what's to come? 

Will I continue to watch and pray for those affected by Russia's aggrandizement? Yes. Will I hope that the U.S. and NATO and those demonstrations around the world can stop the tanks, the bombardments, the intrusions that bring fear to so many? Dare we hope that Putin's nuclear threats and strategic aggressions will end?  

                                    Kona, Hawaii by Ennea2 on Pixabay

Scattered Stones: A Hint of What's to Come . . .

You won't be surprised that I'm working on final revisions for Scattered Stones. This week, I'm inviting you to meet Rose.

As Standing Stones ended, Dylan left Moira behind on Foulksay Island in March of 1842 to seek work in Inverness. Moira thought she might be pregnant, but she wasn't sure, so she said nothing. Despite his best efforts, Dylan couldn't find work on the mainland of Scotland, winding up in Edinburgh and missing Moira terribly.

Moira could no longer stay on Foulksay Island, for there was nothing there for her and the coming baby. She also traveled to Inverness, looking for Dylan. She wound up at a home for unwed mothers, where Rose was born in August of 1842.

Right now I'm working on those baby milestones. Exactly how old is a baby when she starts to crawl? to laugh? to babble and almost talk? Here's a picture of Rose at about one year old that's inspired me along the way. You can see that Rose has her daddy's dark hair and dark eyes. 

Do I have a deadline? Yes, but it keeps shifting as I revise. I'm hoping final revisions will be done sometime this spring.

Now for a snippet of a scene as Moira becomes a mother:

     “You have a daughter,” said Mrs. Harcourt. “A beautiful little girl.”

     Moira’s eyes filled with tears. “Let me hold her?”
     “Yes,” said Mrs. Harcourt. “Ellen, clean her up a little first, and then give the baby to Moira. For now.”
     Ellen washed the infant gently and wrapped her in a white blanket, laying her on Moira’s chest. “She’s beautiful.”
     “Aye, she is.” All Moira wanted was to hold her baby. She held her breath as she looked at that tiny pink face, the baby’s dark eyes now open, and her little fingers moving. Moira touched the baby’s warm cheek. The baby closed her eyes and slept.
     Mrs. Harcourt checked Moira’s forehead again. “Ellen, you know what to do here. Let me know right away if anything changes.”
     Once Mrs. Harcourt left, Ellen changed the bedding, flinging the used sheets out the window, down into the courtyard. “Wish you could help me wash these, but you’ll be busy here with the little one. I’ll check back later. Just rest, all right?”
     Moira nodded. She couldn’t stop staring at the perfect infant she held so close, hardly noticing when Ellen left the room. My life has changed irrevocably, she thought. I’m a mother now. A feeling of wonder filled her. Dylan, I wish you were here to share this moment. 

     “Rose,” whispered Moira. “Your name shall be Rose.”

 

As it's terribly cold here (a low of 10F with snow still on the ground), I'm sending you wishes for a warm, happy, peaceful and productive week ahead!

Poems: Process and Challenge?

Is writing a poem so very different from writing a story or a novel?

When I'm working on a story, I feel immersed in my characters' lives, their problems, hopes, and dreams. Outlines, scaffolding, drafting, and rounds of revision occur as the story slowly develops.

When I write a poem, the whole process seems so different. I sink into a feeling, an image, perhaps a photograph -- or a poetry prompt -- and words begin to take shape.

I do write a poem, now and then. Each April, National Poetry Month challenges writers to write a poem a day -- for all 30 days! Last year, mostly because of Covid, I didn't participate. Somehow, this year, the world seems brighter. Here's a poem I wrote in April, 2021, for you to enjoy. 

Lessons from an Elephant

I'd rather be third
in a line of elephants
ambling somewhere
in that endless, grassy savanna,
or the next wet wadi
where I could roll in the warm mud
and not think about change.

Something about elephants
makes me calm.
Their eyes aslant,
their bodies slow to move,
their ears flutter and
their trunks wave
in a language of touch,
close to their companions or
to herd that little one.

I saw an elephant in Tanzania strip bark
from a tree with his expressive trunk
and lift his head to trumpet a warning.
They twist and rip grasses
from the land, as they follow each other,
a measured pace, close together
for protection, undulating across the land.

Never underestimate the creativity
or change that hunger brings.
In times of drought, those tusks
can dig the earth to find water.
Female elephants don't discriminate:
they mother any baby in their herd.
We could learn much from elephants,
though I'd rather not weigh up to ten tons.

"Elephants" by Alex Strachan (Pixabay)

April gives writers a chance to play with poetry. I hope you will check out the poetry prompts created by Robert Lee Brewer, of Writer's Digest fame. He posts a poetry prompt every day (PAD) for National Poetry Month, and you can check out his poetry prompts posted every Wednesday at Writer's Digest.  

Meanwhile, happy Wednesday. May your writing go well. 

Will you join me in April for National Poetry Month?

About Maps and a Bar . . .

Just checking in on Wednesday to give you an update of writing on the road. Truly, I can only say thank goodness for the internet!

I didn't think I'd need a map to find my way around Edinburgh for Scattered Stones. After all, we had stayed in Old Town for about a month several years back. But as the story unfolds to final draft, that bar where Murphy holds court needed a specific location. The old street name (Cockburn Street) I'd pulled off a map months ago simply didn't work. What was I thinking? I can see my readers blushing even now.

So, this morning's writing session began with that great Search feature on Google Maps as I worked the neighborhoods between the two oldest railway stations in Edinburgh (Waverley and Haymarket) where Dylan and Michael worked and lived. I felt like I fell down a rat hole! After an hour of searching (and drawing a rough map), I finally found my neighborhood bar in Old Town, just off Cowgate Street, and aptly named The Three Sisters. Sadly, we never visited, but we definitely will on our next visit to Scotland. 

The Three Sisters is perfect! Nestled in a courtyard with 19th Century cobblestoned tenements on all sides, complete with tables out in the courtyard (exactly as I have described in my story) and with a stone arch, this popular bar (see picture to the right) is precisely the place where Murphy, the wardman for City Centre, would hold sway. 

Only, in my story, the bar is named the Highland Inn. Hmm. Maybe I should rename my fictional bar The Three Sisters. I'd have to ask for permission. What do you think?

Stay well. Stay safe in these hopefully waning days of Omicron. See you next week!

IWSG: Did it begin with a poem?

The first Wednesday of every month brings the Insecure Writer's Support Group (IWSG)'s writing challenge. Here is our opportunity -- as writers -- to share our thoughts, struggles, and dreams, perhaps to encourage ourselves as much as we wish to encourage others!

ISWG's question this month is a doozy and took me way back: Is there someone who supported or influenced you that perhaps isn't around anymore? Anyone you miss?

I thought instantly of my aunt. She changed my life. Irrevocably. And there's no easy way to write about it. 

My mother, a beautiful and charismatic woman, said, "We never talk about what happens at home." 

I didn't, and I still don't easily share. I grew up in a family of chaos and alcohol. When I was about 11, my stepfather beat my mother. My sister and I lay in bed, terrified and helpless. Sometime in the early morning, he brought her into our room and said, "Take care of your mother." We wiped the blood off her bruised face and did our best. Roughly nine months later, we had a baby sister. That didn't stop the drinking. But Seattle had a serious recession back in the 1950s, so Wayne joined the Air Force, and we were relieved. For a time. But the next year was chaotic, for mother loved to party. When Wayne returned from Okinawa, stationed in Arizona, mother asked us if we should move south. We looked at each other, not eager to spend any more time in a foster home. How could life get any worse? We said, "Yes!"

We drove down to Glendale, just outside Luke AFB, and settled into our new home. They still drank and fought. Then, Wayne moved out, and mother got a job as a bar girl. All was reasonably well until the night he broke down our front door with an axe. "Don't worry, girls," said mother. "Everything's fine." The next morning, he was still there and just before we left for school, he began arguing with mother. I cut between them, but again, mother intervened. "Just go to school, girls." We did, but I stopped and called the cops on the way.

My sister, one year younger, was pregnant and getting married. I didn't have a clue. I had dreams of college, but no hope. My high school counselor on that mandatory meeting before graduating, asked me, "You look like a very nice girl. When are you getting married?"

So what does this have to do with my aunt? She came to Glendale to visit with her new husband (a dentist), just before I graduated from high school. I wrote poetry and short stories and shared a poem with my aunt. The first verse:

There's no such thing as a future

whether good or bad;

There's only the past taunting you

with things you've never had.

A few weeks later, my aunt called and invited me to live with her in northern California to go to community college there. I left Arizona and never looked back. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed -- but college opened up so much more. Libraries. People who cared about learning. Yes, it did take me about ten years working full-time and going to school part-time to finally earn my four-year degree, but without my aunt, someone who practiced art every day, I would never have gone to college. 

She died, nearly a decade ago, but her paintings hang in my home, and I remember her generosity and her nurturing. She is part of the reason I write nearly every day. 

I have no one lesson, really. Except my fiction tends to be about characters who struggle with seemingly unsurmountable odds -- and yet survive. I hope this bit of my history helps you reappreciate where you have come from, what you've accomplished, and re-vision those dreams you have for the future.

Now, consider joining in by writing your own monthly blog post for the Insecure Writer's Support Group? You could answer this month's question, go visit 10-12 other folks (see the links HERE), and celebrate your own writing progress! Why not visit and thank our co-hosts for this month: Joylene Nowell Butler, Jacqui Murray, Sandra Cox, and Lee Lowery!

As our Ninja leader, Alex J. Cavanaugh says:

 Let's rock the neurotic writing world!

Author Interview Part 2: Shannon Alexander

Today is Launch Day for Shannon Alexander's new book, The Business of Short Stories: Writing, Submitting, Publishing, Marketing. 

Thank you, Shannon Alexander, for talking with us about how you came to write short stories, and for your advice on how to write a short story!

What inspires you to write a short story? How do you tend to begin writing a short story? With characters? A setting? A problem? a genre?

I'm a pantser, so it starts with a spark or an idea. It can be something simple, like seeing a themed call for submissions. For example, one story was born because a call was put out for a zombie story from the zombie's POV. Or for a story that's releasing soon, I was reminded of the term coffin birth, and I was off to the races, writing a story that ended up being about so much more than that. I typically just start writing and see what comes out. I've thought of a line out of nowhere and started a story based on that single line as the opening. When that's not the case, though, it's me going in, knowing that this single idea will need to show up at some point. I then start writing a character, which leads to figuring out the setting around them, and how they're responding to it, and so on. 

Has a short story you've written ever morphed into a novel?

I have two short stories I've set aside to one day turn into either novellas or novels. Other than that, I go in with the idea for a short story, and it stays that way. Typically, people who are going in to write a short story and end up with a novel never had a short story to begin with. It was always too big to be a short story, and they were trying to squeeze their story into a hole it didn't fit into.

What did you learn from the first short story you wrote?

Honestly, my first short stories were in elementary school. I learned I enjoyed writing AND enjoyed my teacher's reactions to the stories I wrote. Even then, I tended toward the dark, which made for some interesting feedback on my papers. I always got a kick out of freaking my teachers out. But I also learned that no matter how great I might think that story was, someone else might read it in an entirely different way. Plus, they could find issues with it that I hadn't realized existed, so no matter how shiny I though it was, there was probably something that could be improved.

What advice would you give to a newbie short story writer? Why?

Try to write as much of the story in a single sitting as possible, without editing as you go. Short stories are a different creature from novels. They will need to be more powerful in fewer words. They need to have a single overall tone and mood. A single voice. Writing it in one sitting and waiting to revisit it can help contribute to that and keep your creativity flowing. It helps you remain in the story while you're writing, which will help the reader remain in the story all the way to the end in one sitting.

You can read Part 1 of Shannon's interview HERE. Or visit her wonderful, funny, resourceful blog, The Warrior Muse, HERE. In fact, that's how I met Shannon, blog-hopping!

A little more about Shannon: She has made a career of short stories, with over a decade of experience and more than fifty short stories published in magazines and anthologies. In addition, she's released three horror short story collections with a mix of new and previously published stories. Her true crime podcast Mysteries, Monsters, & Mayhem is going into its third season.

Website: www.thewarriormuse.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thewarriormuse
Twitter: https://twitter.com/thewarriormuse
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thewarriormuse/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/shannon-lawrence
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/shannondkl
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shannon-Lawrence/e/B00TDKPOAO
Podcast Website: www.mysteriesmonstersmayhem.com

Thank you for reading Shannon’s interview. What advice would YOU have to a newbie writing short stories? 

And why not visit your favorite online store (see links above) and check out Shannon's The Business of Short Stories!

Jan 2022: Of This and That . . .

Just exactly one year ago, relatively early in the days of Covid, Spokane was hit with a wind storm. Some 55,000 people were without power.  Our electricity was restored within 4 hours, but not for many others. Our daughter, son-in-law and the two grands stayed just overnight with us in our little downsized apartment. We set up makeshift beds and chattered away the night, grateful to be together.

Progress on Writing: I'm in that curious stage when Scattered Stones is nearly finished. Just deep revisions of two chapters and the story's ending tickle my imagination. I'm asking what would make someone walk away from a job when the rest of the family is depending on you? 

In the 1840s, laborers working the new railways faced uncertain pay, not enough food, physically demanding work, and sometimes death. Approximately 7 men died for every mile of track laid. Michael, my protag's brother, tells me that there comes a day when enough is enough. When it's time to leave all he knows to dream about what's possible tomorrow. Because today is without hope. Until he takes that first step to walk toward new possibilities.

I'm guessing his experience resonates with me partly because we are stronger than we know. Despite the continued cases of Covid, we have hope. We are adapting, finding strength in our families and friendships, and even being nurtured by Zoom conferences! Thank you, Linda Bond of the Inland Northwest Writer's Group!

Other progress: Yes, I finally organized my binder with marketing strategies and inspiration, a step toward building new connections with readers. And took the plunge (thank you, Liesbet Collaert, author of Plunge: One Woman's Pursuit of a Life Less Ordinary, a travel memoir) to run a promotion with The Fussy Librarian, who added my book to their newsletter out to about 400,000 readers. The results? 441 downloads of The Seventh Tapestry: An Art Crime Mystery, and reviews jumped up to 28. I appreciate each review that tells me readers are reading my stories and letting me know what they think! 

Note: If you read a book that you appreciate, consider leaving a review on Amazon or GoodReads. Your review -- even short -- can create a ripple effect to let others know about a book you've enjoyed.

About Quilting: Finished three quilts this month, one a quillow for a friend, warmth for the winter months, and two for the grands. One features cats and books for the seven-year-old, and the other the planets for the nine-year-old. I can't wait to see their reactions this Saturday! Another comfort quilt is pinned and ready for quilting. Here's the quillow!

PS A quillow is a curious kind of large lap quilt that can be folded up into a pillow when not in use. And when you open the quilt, you can tuck your feet right in that pillow pocket to stay warm. Here's a picture of the quillow folded into a pillow, with a nice little kitty to hearten my friend on these cold winter days.

What's next? Tune in next Wednesday for a little more of Shannon Alexander's Author Interview and writing journey to celebrate her release of The Business of Short Stories on February 1. We'll be in Tucson, enjoying 70F weather, maybe sitting outside on the patio, just taking in a view of palm trees, far from the slowly melting snow here in Spokane, where most nights dip down to 20-25F. For each day is a gift to cherish, cold or not. 

Stay well, creative, and connected to those you love. See you next Wednesday.

2022: Too late for setting goals?

Am I the only one who feels like our world has changed -- and keeps right on changing? If I'm trying to set goals for 2022 (see below for my best efforts), why does it seem like I should only plan in 6-month increments? That the very floor beneath my feet may just shift again?

Will this be the year when we can meet with others without worrying about masks, vaccines, and boosters? My research for my current writing project takes me to the 1840s when many people didn't have jobs or homes or enough to eat. So I am grateful even as I know others face down these challenges still, every day.

With hope and commitment, here are my goals for 2022:

Writing. Finish Scattered Stones (final revisions now underway!). Begin research for book 2 in the art crimes series. Write 2-4 short stories. Write weekly in my blog, including a monthly Author Interview. Participate in two wonderful writing communities: the Insecure Writer's Support Group and A Round of Words in 80 Days. Meet locally with my small writer's group when possible. Write a poem a day for April's National Poetry Challenge. Work on that slow-growing family history (with photos). Evaluate progress monthly.

Marketing. Develop a feasible plan I can follow consistently to build connections with readers and build my audience. Evaluate monthly.

Quilting. Finish at least 6 comfort quilts by year end. Finish two quilts (nearly done) for my grandkids. Begin creating Jason Yenter's beautiful quilt, Enchanted Garden. Maybe restore my grandmother's quilt (see right) that she sewed in the 1950s and that I rescued from a very sweet German shepherd.

And that's all, folks. A simple list that will keep me busy! How about you? What are your goals for 2022? Yes, I'm taking names for future Author Interviews if you are interested. And, if you'd like an ARC (advance review copy) of Scattered Stones, please let me know. Just drop me an e-mail.

Meanwhile, may we all have a very good 2022!

Author Interview: Shannon Alexander

Have you experienced the thrill of creating a short story?

This month’s Author Interview brings a special delight: Shannon Alexander talks about her love of short story writing – and what led her to write her new book, The Business of Writing Short Stories, a step-by-step guide that takes us through the entire process of writing, submitting, publishing, and marketing.

My own writing career began with a short story, so Shannon’s comments resonate with me – and I think they will inspire you!

Shannon, what led you to write The Business of Short Stories?

I've spent years watching writers think they have one path to success. A single journey: novels. That's simply not true. Yet I see a lot of curiosity about short stories. When I do a workshop, there's always a good showing. That means people want to try it out, to dabble, to learn. And I love talking about short stories and encouraging others to write them and to experiment with something different. A lot of people equate something like a chapter of a novel to being a short story, which also isn't true. In fact, I've seen that repeatedly when judging the short story category of writing contests. People send in a chapter of their novel and think they've submitted a short story. Those are two completely different things, and no one is fooling a judge with a chapter.

I want people to play in the sandbox with me. I want them to learn and see how wonderful the short story world can be. It's addictive in a way, the ups and downs. It moves significantly faster than the novel world, so there are more disappointments, but also more triumphs. Each publication is a world all its own, with a new experience for each story. It's fascinating, it's fast paced (comparatively), and it's worth trying out.

But I also wanted to write my book so people could get to the meatier parts a little earlier without having to learn everything on their own. Maybe others can have a quicker path than I did. Maybe others can make fewer mistakes. That, right there, is worth it. It can be hard to find short story resources, especially when compared to the sheer volume of aids for novel writers. I wanted to remedy that.

Most writers I know struggle to find a balance between writing and those three key areas your book covers -- submitting, publishing, and marketing. It's pretty easy for writers (especially beginning writers) to be intimidated and/or overwhelmed by identifying and choosing the next best step in any of these categories. What do you recommend writers should start with -- and why?

The writing is always going to be the most important part. If someone isn't writing, there's nothing to submit, nothing to publish, and nothing to market. We're creatives. We're meant to create, and that's where we soar. But in many ways, that's the part that comes easiest to us. Which is why my focus in the book is less on writing the story and more on everything that follows. My hope is that this allows writers to do their own thing with their writing and to then have a guide for how to submit, what matters about publishing, and how to market – as a bit of a shortcut. After all, the writing is the truly individual part, what each writer has to be true to. 

If you write when you're inspired (or when you're able), you're going to get words on paper. It doesn't matter how fast or slow you are. You go at your own pace. You should never compare that to someone else. As you're getting those words down and finishing those stories, you can set aside a block of time, preferably when you're not feeling the pull to write, to do all the other things. I can be doing other things when I'm submitting and marketing, but not so much while I'm writing. So I save my submitting and marketing efforts for when I'm relaxing in front of the TV. Others set aside a specific day of the week or a particular portion of the month. Each person has to figure out what breakdown works best for them, but for me, if I'm not writing when I have the urge to do it, it's going to stymie anything else I try to do instead, because I won't be invested in it, and my mind will be drifting back to what I want to write.

Short version: writers write. And then we muddle through the rest of it when we're able. Just like an artist putting paint on a canvas, there's more to do when the paint dries. We're not happy about having to do it, but as long as we fit it in around the edges, we can make a go of it. Whether that means playing it by ear and doing the other things when a chance presents itself or scheduling blocks of time, it does need to be done, but it can't take the focus away from the writing.

Thank you, Shannon, for talking with us today. Your comments make me want to start short story writing – as soon as I finish revisions on my latest novel, Scattered Stones, scheduled to be completed later this spring!

If you found Shannon’s discussion inspirational, you can preorder her e-book now.  Here are the details:

The Business of Short Stories: Writing, Submitting, Publishing, and Marketing by Shannon Lawrence.

ISBN: 978-1-7320314-5-6  Release Date: February 1, 2022

Book Description: Whether you're looking to add short stories to your repertoire as a solo pursuit or in addition to novel writing, The Business of Short Stories covers every aspect from writing to marketing. Learn the dynamics of short story writing, where to focus your editing efforts, how and where to submit, how to handle acceptances and rejections, what to do with reprints, and how to market yourself and your stories online and in person. 

The information in The Business of Short Stories has been distilled from over a decade of short story publishing experience so you don't have to learn the hard way. You'll find information on submission formatting, cover letters, querying a collection, sending proposals to writing events, how to create a website, SEO, social media, and so much more. This is an invaluable resource for short story writers. There's never been a better time to get into short stories!

About the Author: Shannon Lawrence has made a career of short stories, with over a decade of experience and more than fifty short stories published in magazines and anthologies. In addition, she's released three horror short story collections with a mix of new and previously published stories. Her true crime podcast Mysteries, Monsters, & Mayhem is going into its third season.

Website: www.thewarriormuse.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thewarriormuse
Twitter: https://twitter.com/thewarriormuse
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thewarriormuse/
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/shannon-lawrence
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/shannondkl
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Shannon-Lawrence/e/B00TDKPOAO
Podcast Website: www.mysteriesmonstersmayhem.com

Please stop back by on Shannon’s launch date, February 1, for part 2 of her author interview, a more personal look at how she came to write short stories!

And thank you for reading Shannon’s interview. Have you written short stories. How was that experience for you?

IWSG: Ah, regrets . . . I have not these . . .

Today, or should I say tonight, is the first Wednesday of 2022. What a world of promise in this new year ahead. Don't we all hope for an end to Covid-related drama?

Today is also Insecure Writer's Support Group (IWSG) day. Here is our opportunity -- as writers -- to share our thoughts, struggles, and dreams, perhaps to encourage ourselves as much as we wish to encourage others!

Now for this month's question from IWSG: What's the one thing about your writing career you regret the most? Were you able to overcome it?

Thanks for the easy question this month, IWSG! 

Even as a teenager, I wrote. Poetry. Stories. For a very long time, my biggest regret was that I didn't start writing seriously sooner. Becoming a writer always seemed just a little outside of what was possible. I dreamed of 'some day' instead. Worked my way through school. Became a teacher. Married my dear husband. Our daughter, her DH, and two grands came along to enrich our lives. 

And then I retired! Was that only 15 years ago? Almost immediately, I began to write those stories that once I only dreamed of. Writing led to research into the 19th Century, travel to Scotland (just a beginning), and more writing. Today, I feel enriched by the whole writing process -- and by connecting with readers and other writers. 

Maybe everything that came before led me to this: Nearly every morning begins with settling down at my computer and writing my stories. Another novel is nearly complete, and a new story (planning, researching, drafting level) awaits. Regrets? Truly, not a one. How about you?

Why not join in with a monthly blog post for the Insecure Writer's Support Group? You could answer this month's question, go visit 10-12 other folks (see the links HERE), and celebrate your own writing progress! Why not visit our co-hosts for this month: Erika Beebe, Olga Godim, Sandra Cox, Sarah Foster, and Chemist Ken!

As our Ninja leader, Alex J. Cavanaugh says, Let's rock the neurotic writing world!

 And May 2022 be very good to you.