Month: October 2026

Are You a Writer?

by Gayle Bartos-Pool

The very desire to write stimulates the imagination.

Your imagination gives you an idea.

The idea engages the brain to put those thoughts on paper…or on your computer.

Then comes the hard part…

Wait a minute. Does that mean getting an idea isn’t work?

It’s only work if you force yourself to search for an idea in an underappreciated imagination. You see, the imagination is always working. You just have to realize it’s there. You see things around you all the time. People. Places. Objects. Maybe even a phrase that causes you to think about who would be saying those words and why. Those things are all part of a million stories. You only need to find one that grabs you.

What if you see a face in the crowd that, for a second, looks like a character in a book. What book? How about the next book you write. There’s something about him. He’s a funny old guy who could be your protagonist’s grandfather, but he has a very dark past. Or maybe you see a beautiful young woman who could be a lost princess. Or you see a stray dog who just might rescue, say, that lost princess, but her old grandfather with the mysterious past…the king, doesn’t want her to live her life without her true love like he did when he was forced to marry a woman he didn’t love but who would unite his kingdom with another. Looks like you have the bones of a story.

If you happen to write mysteries, maybe the face you see looks like somebody who should be behind bars. You heard him growl at the young clerk at the fast food place where you were picking up dinner. You were waiting for the bum to reach across the counter and punch the poor kid in the mouth for not giving him extra ketchup. Or maybe to pull a gun and ask for a lot more than just something for his fries.

Or how about you see a couple of local gardeners early one morning digging in a secluded spot next to the golf course behind your house, but to you the pair look like they were burying a body, and you find out later that somebody is missing in your area. I actually wrote a short story based on that idea after I saw two “gardeners” digging in an area behind my house. I didn’t go running to the cops to check out the mysterious goings-on, because as far as I know, no one was missing in the area. But I got a short story out of the chance encounter.

So, if you truly want to be a writer, that imagination of yours will keep you up at night searching for more avenues to take those characters down before they get to the end of your story.

And something else, once you actually start putting those words down from whatever triggered your imagination, think about what some of your characters might be saying to each other. Then describe what those characters look like. Let the reader know a little more about where they came from and what brought them to the same place as everybody else in your story.

Then wonder where that main character wants to go with the knowledge she’s learning. If she’s the character in the book about the gardeners, how can she get their attention so they know she saw them and she might know what they have been doing. You’ll probably need to have that lead character be a little more than some random housewife with only a rolling pin as a weapon when they confront her. That only happens in a Hallmark mystery, and I doubt if a real killer would be intimidated by Betty Crocker in the kitchen with a clever line and that rolling pin to protect herself.

So set your imagination free. Let it know there are stories in that brain of yours waiting to find themselves on pages to be read by folks who might not be a writer, but who love a good story. Write On!

Authors’ Themes in Stories

by Linda O. Johnston

As I’ve said here, and elsewhere, many times before, I’ve been writing for a long time. My stories have varied from paranormal romance to mysteries to romantic suspense and more.

The backgrounds and themes in each series have been primarily different— but one theme appears a lot: dogs. 

No, this isn’t the first time I’ve written about special themes here, but that’s a topic always on my mind as I write, and as I read what other writers write.

My first mystery series, the Kendra Ballantyne Pet-Sitter Mysteries, featured a woman named Kendra Ballantyne, of course. She was a lawyer who lived in the Hollywood Hills, and she had a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Lexie. I was a practicing lawyer then, I lived in the Hollywood Hills, and one of my Cavaliers at the time was named Lexie. My Lexie was definitely a good model for the one in my mysteries. 

I’ve also written other mystery series and several series for Harlequin, including Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and they usually feature dogs. Plus, I also wrote paranormal romance for Harlequin Nocturne, which no longer exists, and they featured Alpha Force, a paranormal military unit of shapeshifters—mostly werewolves. Yes, canines. 

Other writers use different themes, of course. How do we choose our themes? However we want to choose them!

 How about you writers reading this? Do you focus on any particular themes? If so, how do you decide which to use? 

I’m sure I’ll keep writing about dogs, and most likely other animals, for a long time!

HAVE PEN – WILL TRAVEL

by Rosemary Lord

On one of my recent visits to London, my brother Ted and I took a leisurely walk from Chalk Farm, north London to Convent Garden – that colorful, 16th Century vegetable and fruit market; the iconic setting for the opening of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion.

As we turned the corner into the famous piazza, a massive onslaught of blank-faced people advanced towards us. Wall-to-wall bodies. Shoulders squared. No, “Excuse me…” or “After you…” We had to push our way through. But these young tourists, weren’t hostile. Just focused on moving forward, as one, cellphones and selfie-sticks held high. Seemingly unaware of the beauty of the surroundings, they advanced like automatons. Expressionless faces. Moving forward, as one.

We were taken aback. And we’ve never forgotten that intimidating image.

Where did all these people come from?

Outside Selfridge’s Department store on London’s Oxford Street, it happened there, too. An impenetrable wall of seething humanity, rolling forwards. Same thing at the Galleries Lafayette store in Paris. Tourists en masse. In a block – shoulder-to-shoulder – determinedly edging ahead. Crowds everywhere.

 It reminded me of those scenes in Dr. Who, when the hundreds of scarecrows came alive and marched, military style, into the town.

I’d never seen such large numbers of people on the move, in unison. No snatches of excited observations peeking through.  Just a rumbling monotone. Cellphones were held up to record their movements, becoming their digital set of eyes. They watched their own progress through the tiny mobile phone screens, instead of looking around as they walked, missing the actual, historic, fascinating surroundings, soaking up the atmosphere and the magic of the moment.  

A similar thing occurred in a Portuguese railway station when my siblings and I descended from a suburban train line. A cacophony of voices, train whistles and traffic noises met us – and masses of passengers pushing forward, regardless, staring straight ahead, offering no gaps to get through as they poured out onto the street. They were everywhere! And that was in a small Portuguese town – not London or New York.

Where did they all come from?

Somewhere, I thought to myself, there are towns and even countries that must be EMPTY! Because these folks are coming from somewhere.  In large numbers. Hordes of them. All at the same time.

What happened to the solo travelers, the adventurers, the observers, the investigators, the recorders, the note-takers? These blocks of people today weren’t looking at their surroundings, admiring the architecture, noticing street or shop signs, or even checking out items in shop windows. Just blindly following the crowds and instructions on their cellphones, like a rag-tag army that cannot linger for a moment to appreciate.

These walls of human flesh advanced across Europe in their masses, crowded into cheap airline seats, packed like sardines. 

I blame it on the cheap bargain holidays flights across Europe. They cost less than the price of a restaurant meal. That, and the ubiquitous use of credit cards. So of course, the kids are going to take advantage of it. If one does it – the rest have to follow.

What happened to individualism? Why is everything ‘group think’? What about following your own star, your own direction?

And what happened to ‘getting away from it all’? You can’t – because everyone is there, too! Perhaps a visit to a convent or a monastery is called for?

I’ve always loved to travel. I started exploring other countries fresh out of school as a teenager. Back in those Dark Ages, I would board a coach, train or boat and encounter a handful of fellow passengers, also off on some wonderful adventure. I’d wander quiet back streets in countries where I didn’t speak the language. I would drink it all in, occasionally taking a photo with my modest little camera, protecting the spent rolls of film until I had time to get them developed. I’d scribble on scraps of paper or in a small notebook – place names, what I’d seen, people I’d met. These would much later become fodder for my grown-up world as a published writer.

And wherever I travelled, I would notice other lone souls on park benches or sitting at sidewalk cafes, nursing a coffee or something stronger, writing, thoughtfully in notebooks. Perhaps another Hemingway, Steinbeck or J.K. Rowling in the making?

And so, I worry about today’s young, sponge-like minds seeking wisdom and experiences to steer them through adulthood. They will never grow if their youth is experienced through traveling in huge numbers, being told – on TikTok or other Social Media sites – where to go, where to stay, what to eat, wear and think.

As adults, we step into unknown territories and make mistakes along the way. That’s how we learn and grow. Life is a wonderful adventure when we can wander alone to new places. Or maybe with just a friend or two, fellow adventurers.  

I tend to see life through a writer’s eyes. To me, there’s a story to be written about everything! I wonder how today’s young people travelling in large groups, instructed by a digital program, could ever think for themselves and develop into great writers or artists, if they have not experienced life firsthand and learned to keep questioning.

I am sure those born with a writer’s or artist’s mind, will find their own way through; their own star to follow, their own inner voice to listen to. And find their own, peaceful corner of the world where they can create their own literary magic. Be it a proper writing room, studio, shed at the bottom of the garden, a cozy nook, or even a corner of the kitchen table. A place to write.

And with all the travelling I have done, I am always so pleased to come home again. Return to my own little comfy home, with all my writing tools to hand. It’s my retreat – far from, as they say, ‘the madding crowds.’

What’s your writing retreat like?