A “February Is Love” Group Post

By Linda O. Johnston

Many people have something special to remember about Valentine’s Day. I certainly do. It was the day I got engaged to my wonderful husband—more than four decades ago now.

We still lived in Pittsburgh then, and my first Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Panda—Pandaemonium—celebrated with us. We even let him lick the dry exterior of the champagne bottle. Guess it must have smelled interesting, though, of course, we didn’t give him a drink.

We got married in May and have been celebrating ever since, here in Los Angeles now, along with whichever Cavaliers are with us each year. This year, it’s Cari and Lexie.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

 

By Rosemary Lord

It’s wonderful, marvelous – this outward show of love, with images of celebrations, hearts and flowers, love songs…

But more intriguing for me as a writer is the silent love that stays hidden. The oft-unrequited love, the unspoken love. The secret love. The love that tugs at the heartstrings.

Whether it’s the quiet, shy love where the individual feels inadequate to express feelings about their heart’s desire. Not wanting to risk rejection, they stay silent. Or the cautious person afraid of getting ridiculed by revealing where their heart wants to go. The feelings of unworthiness or inadequacy to receive their heart’s desire.  The secret love that someone dreams of from afar.

And it’s not just a love of another person. It’s the love and passion for dreams yet to be realized.

It’s the passion for a seemingly unattainable goal, project, or career. Those loves so often stay hidden. The offer or demonstration of love that is held back for fear of being laughed at or worse, being ignored.

It’s the unwritten love stories that stay locked away in a writer’s head for fear of rejection – or just unsure of a perfect ending. The love stories that will never see the light of day.

How many amazing, intriguing tales of love and passion remain hidden and lost to the world?

Those are the love stories that I want to read and want to write.

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By Gayle Bartos-Pool

STOP! in the Name of Love, Searching for Love, You Can’t Hurry Love, April Love, When I Fall in Love, When a Man Loves a Woman, Love Is a Many Splendored Thing, All You Need Is Love, Dream Lover, Can’t Help Falling in Love, I Just Called to Say I Love You, How Deep Is Your Love, Love Me Tender, Love Will Keep Us Together, Love Me or Leave Me, I Will Always Love You…

So many ways to search for love… until it finds you because it so often does in the most interesting places. Then you want to hold onto it… if you can, and you do because, as that last song title says: I Will Always Love You.

Richard and I had a couple of songs we liked, both from singer Randy Travis. We even went to one of his concerts. The songs: Forever and Ever, Amen, and Look Heart, No Hands. And there’s that other one that still brings tears to my eyes: I Will Always Love You…And it always will because Love Is a Many Splendored Thing. Ain’t Love great…

 

By Jill Amadio

My Dearest Valentine,

Here it is, another year, and I dislike you more than ever. Ever since you rejected my submission, the third in my mystery series, I have awoken with bitterness in my heart towards you.

Do you ever consider how your rejections affect authors who are begging for acceptance and publication?

Do you realize the amount of royalties that were envisioned, only to have that dream turn into a nightmare? I was thinking of sending you a big bouquet of dead flowers, but then I thought about the cost of mailing them.

Always looking forward to next year!

jill

 

By Miko Johnston

The journey of love takes place over a lifetime. The early yearning for it. The sweet innocence of that first infatuation. The intensity of true requited love. The joy and peace that come from loving someone and having their love over the years. The sweetness of togetherness and the sorrow of loss. Music has always captured those emotions so well. A very partial and personal list:

“How Will I Know?”

“I Believe (When I Fall in Love it will be Forever)”

“Can’t Help Falling in Love”

“At Last”

“I Got You Babe”

“My Guy”

“Only You”

“Unchained Melody”

“God Only Knows”

“In My Life”

“Maybe I’m Amazed”

*

“I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party”

“The Tracks of my Tears”

“How Can You Mend a Broken Heart”

“All In Love is Fair”

“I Will Always Love You”

For me, love has always held hands with music.

 

By Jackie Houchin

For about 22,630 days, I have felt loved in one way or another. This is approximately how long I have been married to my one and only husband. (62 years on February 1st) Of course, I felt loved in the months of engagement before that, too.

Love isn’t always romantic.  Sometimes it’s simply sustaining, especially in times of trouble. Sometimes love is felt when you are sick in bed, and a warm bowl of soup is brought to you. Or when you are exhausted…. and the long list of household chores gets finished without a word from you.

I feel loved when I come up with “brilliant” (I think) ideas, and my husband (who might roll his eyes a bit) sets about to accomplish them to the best of his ability.

Yes… I am definitely LOVED, and I feel it every day.

 

 

 

 

 

My Reading Life: Finding Comfort in Uncomfortable Times

By Maggie King

Do you ever need a respite from the news of the world? Or maybe a respite from personal concerns? In recent months I’ve found solace in what I call “comfort” reading. I stumbled across Jen’s Reading Life on YouTube. Jen describes herself as “A 50+ Booktuber sharing my love for timeless literature, cozy mysteries, British women’s fiction, and comfort reads that warm the soul.”

Exactly what I needed. On Jen’s recommendation, I enjoyed Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim, Miss Buncle’s Book by D.E. Stevenson, Spam Tomorrow by Verily Anderson, and 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanff. Jen describes each book she reviews as “lovely and charming” (Jen herself is lovely and charming!).

The following may, or may not, be on Jen’s lists–she has a lot of lists.

For cozy mysteries, I’ve discovered Betty Hechtman’s crochet series.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson focuses on decluttering–during your lifetime. It is an ongoing activity in my house.

The satirical Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books by Kirsten Miller addresses today’s controversial issues, but in a highly entertaining way.

I loved Bonnie Schroeder’s Write My Name on the Sky. Bonnie was featured guest for my holiday newsletter.

I tried to read Christmas stories, but couldn’t find one that held my interest. Exception was “The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding” by Agatha Christie. The Killer Wore Cranberry is a Thanksgiving-themed mystery anthology featuring a variety of tales.

I still return to the “dark side.” ellegal treasures by C.V. Alba and The Pilgrim by Thomas A. Burns, Jr. are hard-boiled tales that offer little in the way of comfort but much in the way of great stories. They do have happy endings, so there’s that.

If you’re in need of some comfort reading, I suggest visiting Jen’s Reading Life, and reading Tolstoy Therapy’s article “16 of the most wholesome comfort reads for a hug from a book.”

An added benefit: all this comfort reading is making writing more comfortable for me!

Tell us what you’re reading and recommending. Let’s keep those TBT lists toppling over!

Last ‘Group Post’ in 2025 – a Holiday Story

by WinR members

In 150 words or fewer, use (most of) these holiday words in a story: snowflake, candle, cookie, bell, star, and mitten. Your story can be funny, magical, reminiscent, or adventurous—it’s up to you!”

  1. Jill Amadio

“Despite the snowflakes landing on her nose and eyes (the only parts of her uncovered) as she trudged along the lane in Boston, she kept hoping for a glimpse of the stars. It was her sole method of navigation, and she longed to see Venus, her home planet.

Suddenly, she spotted a small dark object a few feet ahead. Curious, she picked it up, noting five leather tubes, four next to each other, and another, shorter tube separated from the others (a mitten!). The object appeared to be similar to her own three tubes for each hand. She threw it back onto the snow as she heard a deep booming sound coming from the pointed structure up ahead (a bell tower!).

She stopped to listen as the booms changed tone quickly, and she realized this was what mortals called music. She entered and saw a myriad of little burning candles on a stand. Was this a code?

She ran outside, fumbled in her pocket to retrieve her “nallimachine,” and pressed the shifter button. Instantly, she shot up into the sky, through the snow clouds, and into a triangular craft that had its door already open.

“SoiurmmegivomortChristmasalsii,” she gasped. The pilot nodded and pushed a series of knobs, sending the craft into space.

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2. Maggie King

Every year, my daughter Molly and I watch Christmas movies. When The Bells of St. Mary’s ended, I started Frosty the Snowman and went to the kitchen to heat hot chocolate for the two of us. Outdoors, fat snowflakes fluttered in the air, covering the ground in a thick, white blanket. I picked up one of Molly’s mittens from the floor.

“Mom,” Molly cried from the family room. “The star is crooked!”

I handed Molly a mug of fragrant hot chocolate and straightened the star on top of the tree. The tinsel on the branches reflected the lights in jewel colors of red, green, and blue.

“Mom, can we leave Christmas cookies on the mantle for Santa?”

“Of course, darling. And you get to pick the cookies Santa will like.”

Molly squealed in delight. “I love Christmas, Mommy.”

“So do I, darling. So do I.”

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3.  Jackie Houchin

Mittens, my black-and-white tuxedo kitten, jumped from my bed to the bookcase by my window and wiggled her head through the slit in the curtains.  I heard her “chat-chat-chatter” at something outside, but I was too cozy in my bed to get up and see.

She started “running” her front paws on the cold glass, making a squeaking sound, and jingling the bell on her collar.  “Meow,” she said, pushing through the curtain to stand on the windowsill, her tail twitching.

I popped the rest of my gingerbread cookie into my mouth and climbed out of bed. “Brrrrr.” I stuck my head between the curtains to see what Mittens saw. She was purring as loudly as an electric pencil sharpener now!

“Awwww,” I purred too. In the neighbor’s upstairs window across from mine was my friend’s new white Persian kitten. She had a big red Christmas ribbon around her neck. 

“Hi, Star!” I said and waved Mittens’ paw at her.  She squeezed her golden eyes shut briefly and smiled.

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4. G. B. Pool

A bell went off in young Bobby Gentry’s head last year when he tried catching a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer, which he did every Christmas Eve. He saw something flash across the night sky, followed by a shower of snowflakes that looked like glittering stars.

He planned all year for this next Christmas Eve. He picked out the prettiest cookie his aunt had made for the holiday party earlier that evening and stuffed it in his pocket. It was broken by the time he got home, but it would have to do.

He left a note, the cookie, some mittens for Santa to keep his hands warm, and a handmade card. In the note, Bobby said he didn’t want anything for himself, but would Santa deliver this card on his journey.

The card featured a lopsided cake and three candles. Written inside were these words:  Happy Birthday, Jesus.

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5. Linda Johnston

Who Saved Who?

Wearing a jacket and boots, Ava approached her car outside her Indiana home as snowflakes fell. Christmastime was nearing. Today was growing late, and a star glowed in the darkening sky.

She and her husband, Bret, had no kids yet, and Ava was lonesome since Bret had suddenly left town for business.  Well, she knew where to go. She and Bret had already made the decision. Now, it was time.

Driving carefully, Ava soon reached the pet shelter where a candle burned in the window. Exiting her car, she pulled on mittens for the short walk inside.

And yes! She was met at the entrance by volunteer Sue, with a special dog leashed beside her: an adorable, abandoned Papillon mix.

“Hi, Lucy!” Ava knelt to offer a small dog cookie.  As Lucy ate it, Ava stood and looked at Sue. “Is she–?”

“She’s yours after we finalize paperwork.”

Ava smiled and picked Lucy up. Christmas in their household would be wonderful.

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6. Renee LeVerrier (guest)

A Haiku

Mom’s cookie tins hold

Stars and snowflakes, mittens, bells 

Reach in for childhood

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7. Barb Bland (guest) 

All the other women in my family were up to their eyebrows cooking, shopping, wrapping, and decorating for Christmas, so I volunteered to look after my three-year-old niece, Lizzie, who was sick in bed. In her darkened bedroom, I told her about The Star and the heavenly angels appearing to the shepherds watching their flocks by night. 

“The German Shepherds?” she interrupted.

I realized that her next-door neighbor had two dogs of that breed and that Lizzie was too young to have yet learned about nationalities, so I simply laughed and said,  “Yes. The German Shepherds.”

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Hope you all enjoyed the stories.  Got any of your own to share??

 

Listen to Any Lyrics Lately?

by Jill Amadio

Listened to any lyrics lately? I seem to be spending far more time in my car than usual and, of course, I have my CDs at the ready.

I have to admit, shamefully, that I never truly considered songwriters to be real writers. Yet, they record their daily lives, romances, disappointments, failures, joys, and happiness with succinct and clever poetry and core messages that perfectly fit the moment.

My favorite is Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and then all of his other works. I enjoy singing along with him until he slides into recalling some of his private, sexy moments for all the world to share. I quickly fast-forward.

His writing is pretty explicit even when he writes about religion, and I am sure his childhood and into adulthood included prayer and participation in services.

Which brings me back to lyricists and their skill at fitting words that we often fling about so wildly, are perfect for the composer’s work. Only Frank Sinatra did it ‘his way’ and sometimes scrambled words together and stretched them out, to my mind. I have never attempted to write a lyric, although I was forced to dabble in some corny poetry in school. It never occurred to me that songwriters, both those who write the words and those who compose the music, were so gifted and creative. Interestedly, they manage to make simple sentences sound beautiful when sung. I urge my memoir writing class students to read their prose aloud and none have ever broken into song. Maybe that’s a good thing. But I am sure that lyricists practice their sons aloud as a way to judge their effect.

It amazes me how songwriters like ABBA and “The Mommas and Poppas” manage to squeeze a lifetime of hurt and happiness into a 3-minute song. It is understandable, of course, when they are singing about one specific moment, but even that requires a skill that many regular writers lack. I wonder if they trim and edit, as we fiction and non-fiction writers do?

I have never met a lyricist, although I have several poet friends, and I watch time and again movies about composers, although the films rarely ask, to my mind, the crucial questions, such as must the lyrics rhyme? Whence comes the inspiration?  Like many famous writers who are the subject of other writers’ biographies, the nitty-gritty of lyric writing and composing are often lost in the labyrinth of their concert performances.

I have read that lyricists and composers work together, but which comes first? Are the words arranged to fit the music, or vice versa? Does erasing carefully-conceived words annoy the lyricist as our editors annoy us? I remember reading that Ernest Hemingway had huge fights with his editor, Max Perkins at Scribner’s, who invariably won the battle and improved the books so magnificently into bestsellers.

I don’t recall any such fights between songwriters, but I am sure there were plenty. Perhaps they were short – like their songs, although I can’t imagine the writers of the lyrics criticizing the music unless they are composers themselves.

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Perhaps we mystery writers should try to create a murder that can be described in just a few words, a one-page short story, although some songs have several stanzas. It seems that more contemporary songs are brief and to the point, except for country-western, which are often depressing and mostly seem to be about lost love.

Of course, once we’ve murdered the victim in our books and solved a sub-plot or two, finding the killer could take up an entire music album. Perhaps ancient people wrote songs although archaeologists only appear to discover crockery and texts. What would their songs sounds like?

These literary musings are a rather fun way to procrastinate although I am actually seated at my desk and using my laptop. And, I am writing!

The Business of Busyness

Most of us might name December as the busiest time of year. For me, it’s November, and this year the month is especially chock full of activity. My November actually kicked off on October 20, the first day of Early Voting in Virginia. I worked at an EV site for four ten-hour days, helping voters navigate the democratic process. Last year, I worked at the polls on Election Day itself, an experience I described in this post.

The November Marathon, a Sisters in Crime initiative, helps writers build a daily or monthly writing habit over the course of thirty days. The marathon replaces NaNoWriMo, which SinC sponsored for many years. I serve on SinC’s Social Media Team as manager for the LinkedIN account and post daily in November about the marathon as well as about other events to promote the organization.

As for writing, I’m working on a short story that’s due in early January. That’s coming right up! I have three signing events this month: the Hanover Book Expo happened on November 8; the Local Author Book Fair, put on by the Chesterfield County Library, is scheduled for November 15; and on November 22, members of the Sisters in Crime Central Virginia chapter will meet at Book People, a local Richmond bookstore. I’m looking forward to discussing our recently-published anthology, Crime in the Old Dominion. I love being around readers and writers—we learn so much from each other.

In early November, I enjoyed a Jim Brickman concert and a tour of the Hollywood Cemetery. As a side note, President James Monroe is buried there. On October 23 (just nine days before my tour) his daughter, Eliza Monroe Hay, was reinterred with her family at Hollywood Cemetery after nearly two centuries in an unmarked grave in France.

This is all in addition to the normal busyness of my everyday life: the gym, grocery shopping, walks to admire the fall colors, get-togethers with friends and family, medical appointments. Thanksgiving looms, of course. And we all know how life has a way of “altering” our plans.

It’s all material for our writing.

In contrast, December is relatively quiet in my world. Key word is relatively. I get to enjoy the holiday season with a modicum of fuss and bustle. We’ll see if that holds true this year.

How about you? Is there a particular time of year that’s busiest for you?

Retirement?

by Linda O Johnston

Do writers ever retire? 

Oh, I know what retirement is. I used to be an attorney and practiced law for quite a few years. Most of that time, I was an in-house real estate attorney for Union Oil Company of California, but eventually Unocal wound down, selling off its assets. When I left, I continued to practice real estate law, primarily assisting other attorneys, but I never took on another actual job. And eventually, I allowed my law license to become officially inactive. Retirement of sorts. 

I was writing all that time, and even before that. I started my first story as a kid and kept on going. Now, I’m no longer a kid, and I’m a retired attorney. But will I ever retire from writing? 

Oh, I’ve slowed down some, but I still have a couple of deadlines to meet. And when I think about stopping, I remind myself that I’ve already been researching a new idea for quite a while and that keeps going. I kind of know where I’m going with it. And yes, it will require—what else?—more writing. 

So, retirement? I doubt that will ever be on my schedule. I might get even slower, perhaps. Spend more time researching than writing. But there’s always a computer around, as well as my ideas. 

How about you, other writers reading this? Are you slowing down? Will you ever retire?

An Interview with Author, Maureen Jennings

By Jill Amadio

It hasn’t yet run as long as Agatha Christie’s “Mousetrap” in the West End, the theater district of London, U.K.,  but Maureen Jennings’ Detective Murdoch television series is well on its way to a record fourteenth year for the mystery author. A “Brummie” from Birmingham in the north of  England who emigrated to Canada as a 17-year-old and now lives in Toronto, she lends her British roots to one of her three series, the World War II DCI Tom Tyler cases, setting the books in the market town of Ludlow, in the Shropshires, U.K.

“I visit Ludlow annually”, she said a few days after being honored at the 2019 Left Coast Crime conference in Vancouver, British Columbia. “I love being in Ludlow. I wanted to write the Tyler series there because of the war years, which affected people so deeply.”

Her first foray into creative writing was three stage plays, all of which were produced, although she says, at very small theaters. She then turned to books.

As one of the top and most popular mystery authors in Canada, the Jennings’ Murdoch Mysteries (titled The Artful Detective in the US) was brought to the viewing public first as three Movies of the Week and then as a television series. Set in Toronto in Victorian days, ‘When people tended to be much more aware of good manners and polite behavior,’ the crime novels number eight so far, although the TV episodes number many more. A team of six writers creates the scripts, with Maureen writing one show a season and acting as creative consultant for the others.

After ensuring that the Murdoch books were pretty well established, but still writing a couple more later, Maureen launched the private investigator Christine Morris series. Although its future as a film is currently in limbo, she notes.

Another project, a drama titled  ‘Bomb Girls,’ was a concept derived from a Tom Tyler mystery and has become a TV series, written by Maureen with a partner. Thus, Maureen successfully mixes stage, screen, and literature. Indeed, she is regarded as a national treasure in Canada and has won so many literary awards in North America and in other countries, that it staggers the mind. The Toronto Star newspaper named her as one of 180 people who have influenced the history of their city through her mysteries.

So who is Maureen Jennings?

Married to photographer Iden Ford, who is also her literary agent, she has a constant reminder (at her feet) of her fictional Toronto detective. A dog called Murdoch. ‘He requires a daily morning walk, and that sets me up beautifully. I come back and can get going. In the evenings, I have less energy and usually use that time to read and do research.

As regards the books, I wanted to commune with ghosts of the past in Toronto, which has largely disappeared, and [back then] it was easier to include forensics, which was not as advanced as it is now.’

All the Brits from the Golden Age were and still are her inspiration, especially Arthur Conan Doyle and John Le Carré.  ‘I have always loved reading mysteries. Fell in love with Sherlock, still am. I like the notion of two-for-one, that is, you get a good story and learn something at the same time. For me, that’s typically history, which I love,’ she said.

Maureen calls getting her first book published a stroke of luck when Ruth Calvin at St Martin’s Press took a look at her manuscript at the urging of a friend, and bought it. Since then, she has mastered just about every writing discipline: books, scripts, short stories, and poetry. Yet this woman who streams so many, many words didn’t start out to be a writer. She studied psychology and philosophy at the University of Windsor and received an M.A. in English Literature at the University of Toronto.

She turned to teaching at Ryerson Polytechnic Institute, then practiced as a psychotherapist. Maureen believes that her expertise in that field has helped her create characters that are believable and their motives credible, although keeping them straight requires making careful notes. Her latest is the PI Charlotte Frayne series, starting with ‘The Heat Wave,’ which launched in March 2019 and brings the character into contact with Murdoch’s police detective son.

Her writing process involves outlining in detail. ‘That might change in small ways as the book grows, but I have found that if I don’t do that, I waste a terrible amount of time. I know some writers say they just start off, but I couldn’t imagine that. It would be like getting in the car and saying I’m going to drive somewhere now, but I don’t know where exactly. I’m not that kind of traveler. I have to have the hotel booked.’

A lover of history and a meticulous researcher, Maureen delves into primary sources, including newspapers and Coroner and Chief Constable reports, bringing her skills in particular to one of her latest mysteries, ‘A Journeyman to Grief,’ a recounting of life in the small black community in 19th century Toronto, much of it unknown to most of the city’s present residents.

Maureen’s biggest challenge?

‘Making sure Tyler didn’t look and sound like Murdoch. As for themes, they sort of come to me unbidden as I am researching. For instance, I was recently reading about Safety in the Workplace and how late that was in being established. That immediately became the focus of my next book, which is set in 1936.’

Any advice for first-time writers?

‘Oh dear. I know how hard it can be and how easy it is to get discouraged. But I absolutely believe that passion plus preparation leads to opportunity. I love horse racing and often think of it as a metaphor. Most of the horses and jockeys are more or less of equal ability, but the ones that win do so because they seize the opportunity when the gap opens up ahead of them and they gallop through. They’re ready. They’ve done their homework.

Also, I don’t think you should ever stop studying the craft, whether it be novels or theatre or film.’

AI as a Beta-Reader?

by Jill Amadio

Many of my writer friends are “gung-ho enthusiasts” of Artificial Intelligence,  or AI. They run their projects through, often chapter by chapter, to test their writing skills.

When the results come through, there is great interest in what the non-human synthetic experts have to say. While AI is a huge help, I suppose, if we need to be assured that our style and other fundamentals of our writing are up to par, does AI also diminish our confidence in our creativity?

Why do we trust an automatic machine to judge our writing rather than a person with a brain, a soul, and emotions, muddled as they may be? Why do writers believe that feelings expressed by AI have more depth and provide more compelling characters than those from human intelligence?

Certainly, we often feel a need for support when we aren’t sure we are on the right path with our plots and settings, but research can frequently send us on fascinating journeys when we use that old-fashioned tool.

Then, too, a friend might shoot down our joy by criticizing work we’ve spent weeks creating, but at least we can open a debate with said friend to challenge their viewpoint.

I read online that writers should not wait until a first draft is completed before checking it through AI. One should pass our writing chapter by chapter or paragraph by paragraph if we want our books to sell well.

However, brainstorming with AI can be a revolving door if we rely solely on it to give us feedback with which we disagree. We already have Spell Check in our Word program, and there are also grammar sites if we are unsure. Yet, do we want that advice?

I recently edited a book for a client from Liverpool, U.K., who writes in the way he speaks, a style that is occasionally ungrammatical but beautifully reflects his upbringing in a poverty-stricken family. He writes honestly and in detail about his criminal activities before reforming and brings the reader into his world in a personal, delightfully unself-conscious and un-generated-by-AI manner. His style takes us into heartfelt statements about his culture, his bitterness growing up, and how he turned his life around.

His book doesn’t flow strategically or logically. Instead, it takes us on a journey most of us could not imagine but feel compelled to follow to its happy ending. Would AI have come up with anything as mind-blowing as this man’s true story? Granted, AI is consulted mostly for its judgment of our writing, even its relevance to a central theme, but it seems to create doubt rather than determination to follow our own path.

All of which leads to the question of who is actually writing AI’s advice and training AI, and who is instructing us with strategic decisions we are told to make. Perhaps the AI originators are best-selling authors. Maybe they are paid a royalty for each bit of AI advice activated.

I read that AI can be biased and can misrepresent your writing style. It can tell you to make changes with which you disagree, but you can’t help believing that AI knows best.

Seems to me that human creativity is one of the most perfect parts of our mind, albeit for good or evil, and that if AI flags it, then we follow patterns and look twice at what we are thinking.

It also appears that AI can figure out if you are falling into the trap of writing patterns that annoy readers or structures that don’t make sense. All of which leads us to wonder if we could be accused of plagiarism if two or three writers receive the same rewriting from AI. Maybe we need to become our own amateur detectives to discover such an activity, and instead of fact-checkers, we need to become text-checkers for artificial intelligence.

I admit that AI is an excellent tool for writers who dither and are unsure of their characters, plots, and settings. It is normal to want an outside opinion, but there can be a nagging worry that AI cannot truly understand where our plot is going, or how characters can change as we write. Taking the guesswork out of our plots, sub-pots, and themes can lose us readers for future books in our series, and perhaps even prompt an admission that we used AI as an assistant to write the book in a Disclaimer or Introduction.

In conclusion, I am honestly pleased that some of my writer friends enjoy a foray into AI. I just ask them to be transparent and honest about it.

Once upon a time…

by Jackie Houchin

Once upon a time, in a WAY long time ago, before I had a smartphone, a computer, an online presence, or even a typewriter, I wrote with a pencil, on lined school paper.  I wrote letters (to pen pals and cousins), stories (mostly tragically romantic vignettes in far-off places), and I wrote in small daily diaries.

You know those little books, about four by five inches, with a strap that wrapped across the pages and fit into a lock on the front, and had a half-inch, flat key to secure it. I mean, even a fork or a good slap could open them! 

The pages were dated, but you had to fill in the year. And you had to write quite small if you had a lot to say, like I did.  Wow, did they hold secrets!  And souvenirs – another good reason for that little strap and key. I wrote about feelings, events, boys, teachers, embarrassments, fights, dreams, disappointments, and things or people who made me mad, jealous, or envious.

One day, I found and opened a thirty-five-year-old diary like that. Oh, my goodness!  I slammed it shut and looked around me. Then I carried it to a small chair in a corner of the bedroom and opened it again.

I wrote THAT?  And that? Oh, my!

I laughed. I cringed. I even cried a little. A couple of times, I gazed off into space, seeing and reliving a sweet incident.  I’d smile and sigh.

How would my life be different if THAT had happened? Or hadn’t happened? Or if I’d said something else? Or acted quickly, nicely, or at least not selfishly? What if….?

What if? 

That’s the way fiction writers often dredge up a story idea or outline. What if such and such happened, or someone said or did THAT?  

I glanced down at the diary and thumbed through the pages, stopping now and then to read a heavily underlined passage.  WHOA!

I eventually put the little book back into the cardboard box with maybe eight others like it.  I’ll read them all, I promised myself.  I’ll write a story or two.  Is there enough for a book, I wondered?  

I stretched the duct tape tightly across the flaps and penciled “diaries” on the front. Tomorrow we will take the last of these attic finds to our new house.  After all the unpacking and settling in, I will dig out these diaries and sit at my computer, and type, “What if….?”

Halfway down the busy freeway to the new house, traveling at 65 mph, our heavily packed pick-up truck hit a pothole. In the passenger side mirror, I saw a small box jump and pitch itself over the truck’s railing. When it landed, the box split apart.  Small square objects flew out and bounced into the bushes growing close along the side.

“OH!” I cried.

“What?” my hubby asked.

“My diaries!  Didn’t you tie the boxes down?”

“I did!”

“But…”

There was no place to pull over. No going around. No going back, either along the freeway… or to that youthful time long ago.

I sat stunned.  Then I laughed, imagining some homeless dude living in the bushes finding and being entertained by my teenage drama and angst. Or maybe a gang of miscreants wearing orange vests and carrying plastic bags would come by to clean up the roadside trash, and find them. 

Hey, my stories could be read in jail! Perhaps even traded among the inmates for snacks or phone calls. Juicy sections could be copied on the backs of old envelopes and reread a hundred times. Pages might be torn out and passed on to new inductees as the old timers were released. My audience would grow! I might become “a best-selling author!”  

Well, maybe not.

Anyway, that’s why I never wrote the “Great American Novel.” 

Did you ever write in diaries?  Do you keep a journal now?  If so, is what you write  “stream-of-consciousness” or does it have a specific purpose?  Have you ever reread your previous ones from a year ago, or many years past?

Free Write Your Way Out of Writer’s Block

By Maggie King

Writer’s block. Many writers suffer from this condition. I used to scoff at the very idea of writer’s block, regarding it as another way for writers to procrastinate. But the creative slowdown I’ve experienced for several months has humbled me.

I’m not blocked for ideas, I have them by the dozen. The problem lies in creating a story, one people would actually want to read. My writing skills have gone on hiatus.

My solution: free writing. According to Matt Ellis in his post in Grammarly.com, “How Freewriting Can Boost Your Creativity,” freewriting is a technique in which the author writes their thoughts quickly and continuously, without worrying about form, style, or even grammar.

Mr. Ellis extols the benefits of this practice: “The benefits of free writing revolve around organization, brainstorming, and inspiration, as well as beating writer’s block and relieving certain anxieties. Just getting anything written, even if it is imperfect, can jump-start creativity.”

Author Natalie Goldberg also encourages free writing, or “first thoughts” in her parlance. In this excerpt from her classic Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within she explains how to write first thoughts (#6 is a tough one!):

  1. Keep your hand moving. Don’t pause to read what you’ve just written.
    That’s stalling and trying to get control of what you’re saying.
  2. Don’t cross out. That is editing as you write. Even if you write something
    you didn’t mean to write, leave it.
  3. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar. Don’t even care about
    staying in the margins and lines on the page.
  4. Lose control.
  5. Don’t think. Don’t get logical.
  6. Go for the jugular. If something comes up in your writing that is scary or
    naked, dive right into it. It probably has lots of energy.

Sometimes I write from a prompt (maybe not technically free writing, but who’s nitpicking?); at other times I simply write whatever comes forth. I set a timer on my smart watch for thirty minutes and go, without stopping. At first I went for ten minute sprints, but soon found that half an hour worked best. My thoughts and words flow. When the timer goes off, I pause, then go for another thirty minutes. At that point my hand needs a rest!

My free writing is turning into a memoir. Nothing organized or even chronological—whatever occurs to me ends up on the page. What occurs are often experiences from my past: family, people I’ve known, jobs held, schools attended, challenges faced. I’ve devoted pages and pages to my summers spent with relatives in a rural part of upstate New York.

It’s been an enlightening process, especially as I discover how my perspectives have changed over the years. Frankly, there are memories I’d like to keep buried, but I’ve found it liberating to get them down on paper (See #6 of Natalie Goldberg’s list above).

Since I started this process in July, I now look forward to writing each day. I can’t yet report much creative writing activity, but last week I was invited to submit a short story to an anthology. I have a great idea for a story (remember, I have no dearth of ideas) and now feel up to the challenge of actually writing it.

And now, please excuse me … it’s time to free write!

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