For three weeks I watched my landlord’s son clear the driveway repeatedly of several feet of snow and ice. I huddled in my apartment while the power was off-and-on and the skies wept in dark despair. This week the sun came out and it all turned to warm ugly mud in a mood swing that…Read more Hail and Good Riddance
A friend recently shared this article from “The Verge”, about authors using Artificial Intelligence. I read it out of light curiosity, believing such technology had no connection to me. It made me incredibly sad and depressed, not least because of the initial description of the woman who needs to finish a new novel every nine…Read more To AI or not to AI
Today I abandoned a book for the second time. I’d like to borrow that relationship cliché--it’s not you, dear book, it’s me. But I don’t think I can. Yes, I get that readers’ preferences change. Perhaps the kind of books I like to read are past and gone. And don’t get me wrong, this author…Read more How do I Care? Let me count the ways.
Hello! Since I still feel that we're in Days of Covid, I've spent a lot of time exploring ways to watch movies at home. I just ate my lunch while watching a classic silent film "The General" (Buster Keaton) on a local Arts television station. I've seen bits of this one before but never the…Read more Blessed Silence!
This is how I write. I find a seed. Doesn’t matter where or how. This seed calls to my mind. I hold it, roll it around, blow the dust off so I can see it more clearly. Then I press it onto the white loam of an empty page. I water it with words, maybe…Read more Creativity Blooms
So . . . a couple weeks ago I got slammed with bone-wracking chills and fever. Of course, everyone said "Covid". My family and friends brought me those home tests (dropped them off and ran like hell). But I was already vaxxed, boosted and re-tested to within an inch of my life, and my life…Read more Tick Tock
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields My daughter is gone. I sit at this peaceful place she made for herself and wish she’d come home. I miss her so much. John tells me again that the woman standing in the doorway is my daughter, and that he is my son. Oh, John, you know our son…Read more REMEMBERING THE DAYS OF OLD
For the summer, here's a short bit written to a photo prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the Friday Fictioneers, with a little bit of inspiration from our local newspaper. Flowers, unfortunately, often make me think of bees, but then, shouldn't we? PHOTO PROMPT © Na'ama Yehuda Oh, thank heaven, I’ve finally found one of these…Read more Bee-n thinking about bees
Dial M for Murder 1954 It’s a bit harder for a mystery writer to come up with murder methods today. I don't mean it's harder to find them. It's just that readers are more sophisticated and expect police and even amateur detectives to work with much more difficult scenarios. Your villain has to be wilier…Read more There’s Method in My Murders
What’s more mysterious? When I first moved to Vermont from the southwest, I was as enchanted as I was told I should be by every New Englander I met. The green everywhere felt like I’d fallen into a fairy tale. The soft air caressed my face instead of dragging hot dry fingernails across it. And…Read more The Desert or the Woods?