The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine since 1998

 

 T-zero Xpandizine
 The Writer's E-Zine

 

 Produced and published by the members of Writers' Village University since 1998    ISSN 1521-2639       
04 December 2008
Animal Writing The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Animal Writing

Carol Wicks

Following Gut Feelings


You never know what may come of just following your gut feeling. I was burned out of my career running animal shelters and taking time off to figure out just what I wanted to do when I grew up. All my life, when I wasn't trying to save dogs and cats, I wanted to be Nancy Drew ... no, actually, Carolyn Keene. Deep inside, I always knew I'd write "someday" and my gut was telling me "someday" was now.

Since I'd always heard that you should write about what you know, I did an on-line search for "writing about dogs and cats." To my amazement, I discovered there were actually professional associations of people who wrote about pets. Even better, they held an annual meeting almost in my backyard. I returned home all fired up after attending the combined conference of the Cat Writers' Association and the Dog Writers' Association of America held in Houston, Texas, in conjunction with the Cat Fanciers' Association (CFA) International Cat Show, the feline equivalent of Westminster. I don't know which I did more, learning or fun, but those few days may well have reshaped the rest of my life.

Then I found Writers' Village University, and began to learn the art of writing. I was always good at the craft, writing factual stuff like information sheets and brochures, organization newsletters, grant proposals, kind of boring stuff like that. Now I wanted to tap into that creative side of me and write the stories I've been telling for years; you know, those yarns you spin which make people say "you ought to write a book about that." So I wrote, and rewrote, and rewrote — well, you know how that goes.

I went back to the Dog and Cat Writer's Conference this year both determined to take the next step and much more realistic about the difficulties of breaking into the writing world, especially in a limited market. There might be 60 million dog and 75 million cat "parents" in this country, but most editors don't seem to think animal stories will sell. The old animal shelter director in me spouts figures like this that are ingrained into my brain but you can get current pet statistics by searching sites such as the Pet Food Institute or the American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA).

The three-and-a-half-hour drive home gave me plenty of time to ponder my desire to pursue writing as a career even though it would be a struggle, a tug-of-war between "Are you out of your mind?" and "You CAN do it!" Both pensive and resolute the next morning back at my computer, I found an acceptance for a tale I'd submitted to a call for Christmas stories by T-Zero Xpandizine. YES!

But wait, it got better. Would I be interested in doing a column on Animal Writing? Would I? Do bears...?

I was still tickled pink when the phone rang. It was a woman I'd been referred to by an editor. I had discussed her book proposal at the conference with many of the pet authors who were generous with their time and advice. They had made some strong suggestions about revising her idea, and I had passed them on honestly even though I thought she might be quite cool and non-receptive. I was surprised to hear her thank me for my candidness. I was waiting for the hang up click when she asked would I be interested in partnering on the improved project since it was an area of animal welfare in which I have a lot of expertise.

YES! YES! YES!!! HOORAY!!! I danced around the room and high-fived my dog Morgen who wasn't quite sure what this new game was but eager to play anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, this gut feeling that I can be a successful writer is true. Pet writing is a narrow specialty but there may be a niche combining it with a broader market. I'll keep you posted, and if you e-mail me your comments and suggestions, perhaps together we can convince editors that those 135 million pet families really do want to read about dogs and cats.


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Beyond the Textbook The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Beyond the Textbook

Laurie Lupold


The holidays have come and gone and you survived it. How? you may wonder. By your beauty and grace and a good share of biting your tongue. LOL!

Now comes the time when we can reflect upon what the year 2002 meant to us and what of importance we might have gained from it. As we look into our careers, for instance, we gather each and every element of our craft that we developed throughout the year. We acknowledge how we have grown with our craft. Applaud achievements and look forward to the New Year and our certainty of further growth within it.

We've set our lists of goals which we plan to carry out in this next year and now we are making our way toward owning them. Perhaps this year we will complete the books that have been lagging in the back of our file cabinets collecting dust as our minds became frigid with the changing weather. We might take on that offer as a columnist for that magazine we weren't quite sure of. Or we might become mentors or teachers of our craft.

Whatever our path we will travel it with pride, knowing that we have surpassed another journey to reach the road we now travel. On our journey we take with us plots, characters, scenes, ideals and even criticisms to mature us as we voyage on.

In this year of opportunity, take with you all lessons learned and open yourself to further teachings. Know that you are a gifted writer and that progress and reward is in your future.



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Catherine's Kitchen The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Catherine's Kitchen

Catherine Manning


My apologies for missing the December issue. I feel somewhat like the Queen when she said that she had had an 'annus horribilus' (spelling) but she meant she had a horrible year. When you think about it Latin can look quite rude, but since I haven't done it for about 40 years, I've forgotten most of it. However, I can claim the 'horrible month' instead, though it had its good points.

The bad points were that my ex-husband who had been living in England for the last eight years, took a turn for the worse and we had three weeks of phone calls on what to do, but eventually he solved the problem! The next problem was what to do with him, as even though he was English, he always wanted to return to Barbados and be buried at sea, as was my father.

So, after solving all the problems both ends, we brought him back and had a burial at sea, which went very well, except for the fact that I didn't take a cooler with beer. I would have done had I realized that it was going to take more time than expected, but instead of going three miles off the port which is usual, the tug took us down the west coast till we were offshore from our house. Then we went three miles out and buried him. The good part was that my daughter and stepson came over for the funeral.

Actually he would have been happy with the way it went, as he designed the concrete slab that is now used for burials at sea and it worked really well. There was police outrider from the burial home to the port, so all traffic was stopped for us to get through with no problem and it was a lovely day for a boat trip. All in all he would have been happy, strange as it may seem for me to say so. We played the Finale of Les Miserables and the 1812 Overture which were his favourites and then had a family lunch at an old watering hole.

Days later, the girls and I decided to go into town and use Fleur's ticket to get some duty-free. I bought three pairs of shoes and on the way back to the car park stumbled in a pothole on the pavement and busted up my knee pretty badly. I'm still limping after ten days, but the good news is that I couldn't possibly have osteoporosis or I would have broken many bones! Then my brother-in-law fell off a ladder and broke his heel in two places, my sister-in-law tripped on her carpet and broke her ankle, my cousin slipped and fell on a step and broke her wrist and my uncle died suddenly on Wednesday! They say things come in threes but that's five. I trust there's not another to come.

This is all true by the way! Actually it's six as my mother suddenly decided to stop eating and drinking and we had to put her in hospital and call my sister down from Canada, but we threatened to leave her in hospital so she's been making an effort and is back home, but we have to keep behind her all the time.

My uncle wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered at sea from Blue Jay, a cabin cruiser he built twenty years ago. Since our crematorium is not functioning yet, my two younger brothers took him down to St. Lucia to have the cremation done there and brought his ashes back in a box marked Columbian Emeralds! They came through customs at the airport with hand luggage and this box and the lady customs officer asked three times what they had to declare and three times they said "nothing." Finally, she asked "What's in that box?'" and my facetious brother said "My uncle" and opened the box to show her the ashes, the lady took off at high speed as he offered to sprinkle some duppy dust around! The ashes were scattered this morning off Blue Jay.

On a lighter note, I have the family Christmas party here at Faraway, much to my surprise. It seems that we're all coming which is good. We haven't been all together for a Christmas party for a while as we all have different responsibilities now. In fact the last "together" Christmas party was here four years ago.

By the time you read this Christmas will be over again for another year, one which I hope will be less crisis-ridden this end, but one can never be sure of anything.

Apart from barbecuing (!) I can't think of any recipes for this column at the moment, except maybe

RUM PUNCH

We have a rhyme to remind us of proportions, as follows: 1 of s, 2 of w, 3 of strong and 4 of weak, the weak being ice and/or water

  • 1 part sour lime juice
  • 2 parts sweet simple syrup or sugar to taste
  • 3 parts strong rum
  • 4 parts "weak" (water and ice)

Mix all together, pour in glasses and add a few drops of Angostura and grated nutmeg with lots of ice. Depending on how strong you want it, you can reduce the water.

A popular Christmas drink is Egg Nog or what we call Egg Flip. Every island has their version and drink it hot or cold but my version is:

Egg Flip to Serve One

  • 1 egg
  • 2/3 cup cold milk
  • Sugar to taste, vanilla
  • 1 TBS rum
  • Ice
  • Nutmeg
  • Bitters.

Blend everything except nutmeg and bitters in blender. Pour in tall glass, grate nutmeg over the top and a dash of bitters and enjoy.
 

I hope that everyone has had a great Xmas and can look forward to a happy and prosperous New Year.

Cath

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Fiction Short Story

by Jerry Race

Daddy's Dead

Moonlight trickled into the Jamison's upstairs bedroom. Joe lay on his side of the wide bed, his back facing his wife Alicia.

"Joey. Oh Joey. Wake up. I need to talk to you," a man's voice said.

"No," Joe told the voice. "Leave me alone. " Why is he bothering me?

"Come on Joey," the voice said. "I need to talk to you."

"It's too early."

"Aw Joey, it ain't never to early to chat."

"I said, no. Leave me alone." No chance in that.

"Joe, who are you talking to?" Alicia asked without opening her eyes.

"My dad."

"Your daddy is dead."

"I know that, but apparently he doesn't seem to know that."

"Did you take your medication before you went to sleep?"

"Yes, dear." He sat up and swung his legs over the bed and placed his feet on the carpet.

"Getting up so soon?" She couldn't believe her husband would get out of bed before he had to.

"Might as well," Joe rose and stretched, "Can't get back to sleep." He yawned and glanced at the red numbers on the digital clock that was on the bedside table. "I hate beatin' the alarm."

"I know the feeling. Are you going to the gas station to take over Kerry's shift?"

"I might do some writing before I go," Joe said as he ambled to the door. Joe didn't bother to get dressed. Sporting his shorts would be enough for now.

"You going to school today?"

"Nope. School's closed because of that mold problem."

"Oh yeah. I used to wish my school would close."

He stepped out of the room and in a slow pace headed for the stairs.

After selling four novels that became best sellers it wasn't necessary for him to work and he was now retired from the meat-cutting factory. He had purchased the house he and Alicia had lived in since they married ten years ago. But, Joe felt that he had to keep busy so he bought the gas station and general store when they became available and hired his nephew, Kerry to help out. They kept him busy when he wasn't writing.

When he reached the living room Joe noticed the door to his den was ajar. He remembered closing it himself. Alicia respected his privacy and would never enter the room without telling him.

He peeked into his den. Only one light was on in the room. It came from his laptop on the desk.

"Morning Joey," the man's voice said. "Come on in."

"Not now," Joe told the voice with a sigh.

The aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen filled his nostrils and his eyes widened at the sight of the coffee maker. Coffee was pouring into the glass carafe. At first he thought Alicia had gotten up early to go to the bathroom and turned on the coffee pot. Now, he realized she hadn't gotten out of bed.

This is too weird, he thought.

He felt an icy chill as he walked across the tiled floor and took a clean mug from the dish drainer. After filling the mug he took a sip. The hot liquid felt good. His legs were shaky as he walked back to the doorway of his den.

"Come on in Joey," the voice said, "and have a seat."

Joe stepped into he room. The mug shook as he moved closer to the desk.

"Aw, Joey, don't be scared," the voice said as he stopped in front of the desk. "It's only me."

"That's why I'm scared," Joe told the voice. "You're dead or supposed to be."

"If I were really dead I doubt I'd be talking to you."

"How the hell should I know?" He moved to the other side of the desk facing the laptop. The main menu was on the screen.

"Now sit down and don't make me have to tell ya again."

The chair made the move itself and faced him. Coffee spilled on his hand when he jumped away.

"Do it, Joey."

He was too afraid not to obey.

"Now what's so blasted important, Daddy?"

"I've been keeping an eye on ya," the voice said. "See?" A large red eye with a slit pupil appeared on the screen. "Hee hee."

"That wasn't funny."

"Was to me."

"You always had a sick sense of humor."

"At least I'm not boring." His dad always used to make sick jokes.

"So what do you want to talk to me about?" Joe said.

"About my being lonely over here."

"So?"

"So I want you to join me to keep me company."

"No thanks," Joe said. "I'm doing just fine."

"Aw, come on son," the voice said. "Join me. I'm lonely."

"No thanks." Joe told the voice. "Besides it isn't my time."

"Aw, dammit, son," the voice said. "Then I'll make it your time."

"No way."

"I'll do it anyway."

A sharp pain soared through Joe's chest. The mug fell to the floor. Coffee stained the carpet.

He grabbed his left arm and gasped for air.

His heart stopped beating and his head crashed on the laptop's keyboard.

Two skeleton hands appeared on the monitor, reached for Joe's broad shoulders and pulled his lifeless body inside.

The door to the den slammed shut and locked.

"Glad you're here, son," the voice said as the laptop shut down.

The End

© Copyright 2002 Jerry Race
 

About the Author:

Although born in Maywood (Los Angeles County) CA, Jerry Race was raised in Tulsa, OK where he graduated high school. He was drafted in the Army on Valentine's Day in 1967 and spent a year in Vietnam and another year in Germany. He then went on to graduate from an acting school in Hollywood, CA and worked in several feature films in the early 1970's. His interest in fiction writing began in high school. He is currently working on his first two novels and receives excellent feedback from his two study groups at WVU. His website, http://www.angelfire.com/ca6/boys, features excerpts from his novels as well as some poetry.



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Fiction Short Story

by Marshall Bye

Murder Impetuous

I bounded up the stairs to my front door, glad to be home early for a change. The week-long business trip half way across the country had left me anxious to get home to the loving arms of my wife of nearly a year.

I unlocked the door and entered. The quietness overwhelmed me. Usually Paula had the radio blaring.

"Hi honey," I called. "Paula, I'm home." There was no response. I set the box of Godiva truffles and special birthday card for her on the hall table. I had crafted the card on the computer the previous evening -- a card expressing my total devotion.

I took the steps two at a time up to our bedroom and flung open the door.

The sickening scene flashed before me. Then it all registered in slow motion. Two naked bodies were writhing on the bed: a dark haired man on top of my wife. I saw her slender pearly-porcelain legs entwined around his thick waist. His black hair and full beard blocked out my wife's face showing only her long blonde hair splayed across the pillow. They were both moaning and completely enthralled in each other.

They never heard me.

The next I knew, I was stabbing the animal on top of my wife. In a frenzy of shock and hate I stabbed and stabbed. I stabbed my precious white princess too; blood splattered over the white walls, across the white sheets, and across the bodies.

Suddenly I stopped, and in a trance dropped the knife and stumbled downstairs. Breathing heavily I leaned on the kitchen table. My eyes, blinded with hate, fear and tears, slowly cleared. Through a fog of confusion, I saw a note sitting on the kitchen table.

It read, "Sweetheart, Cindy is using our house today. She's entertaining her boy friend, Ward. I'm working late so be a darling and pick me up at Moe's Hamburgers. Love, Paula."

My gut contracted as if struck by a cannon ball. My knees turned to jelly, and I slumped into a heap on the vinyl floor.

All the hate dissipated. Fear started to pump through my arteries. Fire ran rampant through every nerve of my body.

"I killed Cindy!" I yelled to my own ears.

Cindy, Paula's twin sister was in town for a week while I was away. Ward, her lover, wanted a legal separation from his wife, Gloria, who refused to any such agreement.

I threw myself prostrate on the checkered floor and screamed again and again. "I killed them for nothing!"

The magnitude of what I had done slowly seeped in and I was overcome by the enormity of it all. I lay there for sometime. Lethargically, my mind started to work again. I realized I had to take counter-actions. I rose slowly, first to a sitting position, then on one knee, and finally by the time I was upright and steady on my feet, I was drafting a plan.

I was sure no one had seen me arrive. I worked quickly to erase all signs that I had been in the house that evening. I removed my bloody clothes and donned a new shirt and suit. The bloody clothes I put in a plastic bag for disposal after I left the house. I polished my shoes anew. I wiped away my fingerprints and placed the bloody knife on the floor beside the bed. I grabbed the extra house key and this I inserted and left in the front door. I knew Paula had given Gloria a key for emergency purposes. They'd think Gloria, the betrayed wife, had been there.

Once in my car, I called Paula on my cell. "Hi dear," I calmly started, "my plane's landed and I'm in my car."

"Oh Vince," Paula exclaimed, "You're early. Have you been home yet?"

"No, I'm leaving the airport now."

"Don't go home. Cindy is there, entertaining her lover. I told her we wouldn't be home until nine-thirty. Come and pick me up at Moe's Hamburgers; I'll be finished with my shift in an hour."

"Is our house a den of iniquity now?" I joked. The irony of the question hit me hard. "I'll be there in about 45 minutes. Bye, love." I hit the end button.

As Paula and I walked across the parking lot to where I had parked my blood-red Camry, we joked about my weekend away.

"I hope you haven't forgotten my birthday," Paula chided, for I had been known to do just that. For the second time in one day, my knees buckled and I slumped to the ground.

"What's wrong? What is it, Vince?"

I placed my head in my hands. I had left the box of truffles and birthday card on the table in the hall.

The End

© Copyright 2002 Marshall Bye


About the Author:

Marshall Bye is a retired educator with over 30 textbooks to his name. During his first five years of retirement he edited and published an eight-page four-color newsletter for the local Trout Unlimited Chapter. He is now fulfilling a lifelong ambition to write in the creative field. He has had an item published in his local newspaper, The Calgary Herald. His work has appeared in Back Home Magazine and in Birdwatcher's Digest. Tickle by Thunder selected one of his stories for The Years' Best. He lives with his wife in Calgary at the foot of the Rockies where they enjoy being near their family.


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Fiction Short Story

by Yvonne Adalian

Too Early By Far

Like landing on a step that wasn't there, Molly's body jolted on impact. She felt a fleeting terror as she looked around, for nothing was as usual. The air was very warm and seemed to her to be thick. Looking up she squinted at a large round silver clock in a sky that was as green as apples on a tree. She had no idea where she was and felt completely disoriented. Only the thick red hair brushing her skin at the small of her back felt familiar. Looking down she saw that her feet, planted in deep blue grass, were bare; her knees were bare; her belly was bare. In fact she was entirely naked!

Looking up again she saw a winding purple road fringed with blue which led to a copse of red trees with tops like curly cabbages. Rising from behind these trees stood a tall white tower with a window at the top. She heard a bird trill, joined by another which harmonized. She smelled flowers she couldn't see. She heard a swarm of musical bees from around the corner of the road, which then materialized into a jazz band. Having nowhere to hide, she stood on the road with her back to the sound hoping they wouldn't notice, or at least pass right by. But a battered old van with pink roses growing on the roof drove up beside her, and the wheels, sporting pink satin dancing shoes, stopped. Musicians sat where the motor should be.

"Good heavens, who are you?" giggled a trumpeter. He was naked too, except for an orange trilby hat, and his voice tooted just like his trumpet.

Molly stared.

"Would you like a lift?" boomed the bass, making Molly jump. He was extremely tall and thin but had lovely pink eyes.

Now no one likes to be caught being aimless, no one likes to be caught simply staring into space like an idiot, and the band was as naked as she was, so Molly said, "Oh. um... I'm... I'm on my way to the Tower, I think."

"Hop in little Lady, hop in," said the trumpeter, and raised the roof like a hat.

During the ride, Molly learned that in order to talk to the boss in the Tower, who was a very busy man, she would have to make an appointment with his secretary.

"Everything takes an eternity around here," said the drummer with a smile.

The Tower was made of marble and she climbed many steps to its door. When she pulled on a long gold bell rope, it triggered tinkling laughter.

"Come in, come in," sang a beautiful voice, "Isn't it a heavenly day?"

Molly turned the gold doorknob and stepped into a prism of light through which golden wings and a robe of glittering fish scales slowly turned. Then a radiant face beamed and embraced her. Molly wanted to cry; she had never felt so welcome in all her fourteen years. She felt she had finally found her home.

"And what is your name, my lovely?" the angel wanted to know.

"Molly Maguire from Ireland, but I don't know why I'm here."

"Molly Maguire from Ireland? Molly Maguire from Ireland? Not Colleen Maguire's only daughter? From Dublin is it, you're from?"

Molly nodded and stepped back for the angel's face had turned from welcome to that of stark dismay. "You're too early by far. You're not due yet. For heaven's sake go away!"

Molly had no idea where to go. The angel had been so insistent that she leave at once, she was given no opportunity to protest. She decided to wait until the next day and then tried to make an appointment with the boss. She was neither tired nor hungry and this was after all a very pleasant place to be. She looked at the clock in the sky. It hadn't moved. She wandered over the cool grass to a beautiful yellow lake with blue and purple reeds and lily pads growing on top, and sat on a mound of grass with her feet in the water, dreaming.

She closed her eyes and saw a winding country road, a stop sign, and herself flying downhill at great speed on a bicycle, hair flying wild in the wind. An oak tree stepped out to block her. Oh no! Molly remembered everything then. Her parents, her school, her friends, and her little dog, Blackie, at home. I'm as dead as a doornail, whatever that is, she thought.

A purple frog with golden spots sitting on a lily pad opposite, blinked his round blue eyes, cleared his throat, and said, "Excuse me, I couldn't help but hear what you're thinking. This happens all the time around here. Heaven knows why. People are in just too much of a hurry to die I suppose. I don't know what's the matter with them; they know they'll only have to go back."

"Why?" she asked, quite beyond surprise by now.

"Well, you tell me. How can you enjoy heaven if you don't know how to enjoy life?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" And the toady old frog gave a sigh. "Well, never mind, never mind. Tell you what: why don't we take you back right now?"

"Now?" Molly could see her father then, head bowed, staring at the floor with his hat in his hand. She could see her mother weeping. "But I have to see the boss."

"Oh, I wouldn't bother him if I were you. He's a very busy man. Look, I'd be happy to help you out. I've done it dozens of times before." And he took a deep breath and blew himself up like a balloon; not once, not twice, but five times, until he resembled a great spotted rubber armchair. Holding his breath, he beckoned to Molly who found herself climbing on. As he slowly exhaled he flew to the sky, past the clock, past the stars, to the dark, until Molly felt quite dizzy.

From the farthest end of a tunnel her mother's voice called, "Molly, Molly, sweetheart, I'm here. Come back, please, please, Molly come back."

Molly felt warm tears splash on her face and she opened her eyes to see her mother sitting beside her beneath a white ceiling over a white bed. Through the window she thought she saw a flash of purple disappear in the sky and she smiled and whispered, "I was too early, they said. They said I was too early by far."

© Copyright 2002 Yvonne Adalian


About the Author:

Yvonne Adalian lives on Saltspring Island in British Columbia, Canada. She has had several articles published, and four radio plays for CBC have been broadcast. "Too Early by Far" was inspired by a jumpstart exercise through WVU.



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Fiction Short Story

by C.S. Prabhakara

Total Recall

When Ajit Kumar 'Rambo' Segovia, CEO of Segovia Inc, returned from holiday in Zurich with his family and found that his dog Bruno ceased to respond to his name or recognise anyone in the household, he flew off the handle. Bruno looked pathetic. There he lay forlorn in the corner. He would occasionally get up and saunter around for a few crumbs of bread and dog biscuits.

"It is strange, people in the neighbourhood fawn around us after our return from our overseas holiday, but Bruno looks unconcerned. He needs the attention of a vet," said Mrs. Seema Segovia.

Little Bittu was in tears "Mummy, look at Bruno, he doesn't even wag his tail, is he cut up with all of us, because we left him for 15 long days with Ram Singh and Samir uncle?"

Next day, it was stormy in the corporate headquarters. The monthly review meeting of the group was unusually turbulent. Rambo was furious when he looked at the first quarter sales performance of his company.

"It's outrageous. Despite an increase in advertising expenditure, capital investment and recruitment, the group has not honoured its commitments. Are the functional heads just warming their chairs? I see a total collapse of professionalism in the group. Unless the situation is redeemed in the next quarter, some heads will roll and some will have to relinquish a part of their perks and privileges." Rambo then looked at Shravan Mudalliar, the SBU Chief, who in turn looked at his marketing chief.

Insiders in the corridors of power were flummoxed at this unprecedented flareup in the conference hall. The lackluster performance was anticipated in view of the recession. A little birdy in the CEO's office chirruped, "Rambo's ire is due to Bruno's amnesia."

In his swank office in the first floor, Samir Rajadhyaksha, the officer on special duty to the CEO, was squirming in his seat. He had just then received a dress down from the CEO. Damage control was his forte and high on his agenda. He summoned Dr Rameswaran, the best vet in town, to attend to Bruno.

"Bruno looks hale and hearty. His: forlorn attitude is inexplicable. Since he can not be counseled, I could try out with a small dose of Prozac but the results cannot be predicted." The doc sounded unsure and tentative.

Samir next called Dr Mukherjee, the eminent homeopath. "Does he respond to any other name? When is he forlorn before food or after? At what time of the day? Does he bark continuously or intermittently? Does he bark at objects or beings? If so what is the colour of the object or sex of the being? Is he more comfortable walking or lying down? What is the position of the tail, when he lies down?" The questioning was incessant and searching. He then opened his notebook PC and called the homeopathic diagnostic software 'Radar' on the screen. He keyed the information on the pop-up menu on-screen. "I think Bryonia 2M three times a day would alleviate Bruno's condition," opined the learned homeopath as he handed out the sugar pills in a small bottle.

As the week passed, there was some improvement in Bruno's condition. Ashish Sharma, marketing officer, a dog lover and one of the confidants of Samir, asked him during a tete-a-tete about the mode of treatment followed to bring about this improvement

"There was no need for medicines because the dog was quite OK."

"Really? I heard the dog did not respond to his name and suffered from amnesia."

"How can he respond to a name that is not his?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Samir laughed and cleared the mystery. "When Rambo went abroad, his servant Ramsingh and I were assigned the onerous responsibility of looking after the dog. I used to make periodic visits to his bungalow to oversee whether Ram Singh was sticking to the schedule of feeding the dog and taking him out for a walk.

"One day, I found the dog moaning and writhing with pain. I immediately asked Ram Singh to fetch a vet, but by the time he came, the dog was dead. I instinctively knew that this would sound the death knell of my career. Untimely demise of the only dog of the only son of Mr. Ajit Kumar (Rambo) Segovia, the CEO of Segovia Inc., would be deemed a corporate calamity. Anybody who is remotely associated with this tragedy is guilty of slipshod imbecility and online inefficiency of horrendous proportions. If I informed Rambo, while he was holidaying in Zurich, I knew he would immediately fax me my termination letter. I therefore told Ram Singh to bury the dog in the backyard and keep the information under wraps."

Ashish sported a confused look and Samir continued, "I went round the kennels in town in search of a docile brown Cocker Spaniel of the same size and shade as Bruno. After a seemingly endless search, I found one in a kennel on the outskirts of the city. I gave the breeder Rs 10,000 for the dog and asked him to keep his mouth shut about the transaction. Obviously the dog seemed out of place in his new habitat."

"But did the assortment of allopathic and homeopathic treatments bring about the dog's adjustment to the new household?"

"The drugs were administered for a week to avoid Bittu's suspicion. You know he's a sharp kid. And just as any other dog, Bruno also got accustomed to the new environs and his new name. I hear that Dr Mukherjee is now shouting from the rooftop that he can ensure total recall to any dog suffering from amnesia.

Dr Rameswaram, I believe, plans to present a paper on "Effect of Fluoxetineon Canine Amnesia".

"What is the dog's true name?"

"You are too inquisitive. His true name is the password for my exit from this company."

© Copyright 2002 C.S. Prabhakara

 
About the Author:

Mr. C.S. Prabhakara is a senior executive in a public sector enterprise in India. His hobbies include writing and music. His stories and articles have been published in leading publications and e-zines in India. He is an engineer with Post Graduate diploma in Management. He was trained in Public Enterprise Management at the University of Leeds, UK. He lives in Bangalore with a wife and son. He can be reached at: csprabhakara@rediffmail.com 


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Karen's Keynotes

Karen MacLeod

Editing

A few questions I've been asked on occasion:

What kind of mistakes do you see most often?
What I seem to come across in many manuscripts is sloppy sentence construction. I also notice a lot of poor punctuation, fragments, or run-ons. Some authors take a long time to get to their point, rambling, where concise language would improve the flow of the story.

I also see many sentences constructed with "then" cobbling action together, rather than letting the action continue sequentially. "But" and "next" are also other overused words in many works. Just for fun, how many problems do you find in the snippet below?

Here's an excerpt from an unedited manuscript, which I received:

The captain braced himself for the jump into time warp, and then gave the command to his navigator to activate the opposing propulsion systems.

The silence of space did not provide any audible effect, but the huge ship lurched and careened almost uncontrollably as the time tunnel was traversed. The outside portholes delivered nothing but total darkness. Not even a single star appeared to counteract the feeling of dread felt throughout the ship. The hull seemed to vibrate uncontrollably, as most of the crew felt it would soon split apart. The vibration intensified, centi-timeframe by centi-timeframe, and the pressure seemed unbearable.

Then the motion halted as quickly as it began.
Authors should do extensive research on items with which are unfamiliar that they are using as part of their plot. If you write about horses, as an example, research as much as possible about the types of horses you have in your work. Draft horses are different than saddle horses. The equipment each wears is also different. Know your terms; ask experts if necessary.

If you sit down and think about it, you can come up with a list of experts and resources of your own. A good editor should also have their own source of experts they can call on if something in a manuscript puzzles them. No author or editor is an expert in "everything."

I have a number of experts I can call on for various types of information in my editing work. Here is a partial list:
  • Herbalist
  • Chemist
  • Orthodox Rabbi
  • Biologist
  • Geneticist
  • Professor of Medieval English
  • Private non-commercial pilot
  • Horse owners — I also was a horse owner
  • Computer experts (Windows, Linux, DOS)
  • Website builders, and domain system administrators
  • Computer server operators
  • Authors of Computer programs (people who write scripts)
  • Movie stagehands and prop people
  • People who run lights and sound for entertainment productions
  • Members of the esoteric and Pagan communities
  • Astrologers
  • Tarot card experts
  • Social worker/nonfiction writer — specialties, addictions treatment and prevention; mental health
  • Auditor/accountant, Federal government employee
  • Former Mormon elder
  • Golfer
  • Medieval re-creationists (SCA members and former members)
  • Nurse/nutritionist/health administrator
  • Biker/Motorcycle enthusiast
  • Homeschooler — either a student which is home schooled, or the parent who schools them
  • MENSA members
  • Railroad hobbyist
  • Artists
  • Candlemaker
  • Sign language interpreter

What can writers do to make your editing easier?
Authors should not count on the computer's spell checker and grammar checker. The built-in files may work well for business letters, but in novel writing, they are useless.

A writer might want to invest in an excellent dictionary, and thesaurus. I also suggest they invest in a current bound copy, or find the website for The Chicago Manual of Style. Grammar has changed over the years. Here, I'll use compound words as such an example of change. I've included some website URLs which may be helpful in your own writing projects.

Twenty-five years ago, the following words were written thusly; but how are they properly written today?

  • droop-shouldered
  • well-developed
  • sure-footed
  • worn-out
  • tight-lipped
  • platinum-blond
  • eleven-year-old girl
  • twenty-five
  • ill-considered
Further research on my part for compound words comes up with this:
http://www.press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago/cmosfaq.html 
http://www.press.uchicago.edu/ 
http://www.lib.ohio-state.edu/guides/chicagogd.html 

The Webster's dictionary web page makes this notation about The Chicago Manual of Style. The Chicago Manual of Style contains an extensive section devoted to compounded modifiers and nouns. That book's table of compounds categorizes compounds into various types, and helps us discover principles of spelling (and some really strange exceptions). Styles of compounding words change over the years, however, and writers might even find different versions in different dictionaries. The Chicago Manual is especially helpful because it tries to define the principles by which such decisions are made.

Compound words
According to the Webster's page, there are three forms of compound words:
1. The closed form, in which the words are melded together, such as firefly, secondhand, softball, childlike, crosstown, redhead, keyboard, makeup, notebook;
2. The hyphenated form, such as daughter-in-law, master-at-arms, over-the-counter, six-pack, six-year-old, mass-produced; and
3. The open form, such as post office, real estate, middle class, full moon, half sister, attorney general.

Writer's Resource Center:
http://www.poewar.com/articles/compound_words.htm may be worth checking. There is an extensive article on Compound Words: "Compound Words: A Proofreading Pitfall," by Janis Butler Holm
When Are Compound Words Spelled with Hyphens?
How Do You Know When to Use One?

How do you approach editing with your writers?
I read the piece once without informing the author of anything. I check for continuity, flow, clarity of thought, vague or odd unconnected ideas. Then I start a second reading by making suggestions in highlight and color. What you, the author, decides to do with my comments is strictly up to you. Spelling and grammatical errors I'll repair without consultation.

The editor should not change the author's vision drastically, and NEVER make such changes as if the editor wrote the piece. The author has a story to tell. It is up to the editor to make that story as clear as possible WITHOUT changing the essentials of the work.

Here's an example of how I would present my editing ideas. This is from one of Elizabeth Caldwell's short stories The Tandem Rig which was used in completed form on the "Read A Good Story, Do A Good Deed" site on Simegen.com where authors donate short stories, and artists donate artwork, to raise funds for charitable causes.

Lola Montez crouched behind a boulder just inside the entrance of Northern Mine, one fist rammed into her mouth stifling her screams, the other clutched a small bag of gold she'd taken from the mine.

Out in the hot California sun, ten filthy men in ragged mix-matched bits of Cavalry uniforms circled a man tied to a tree. His back covered in bloody welts where the horsewhip had sliced to the bone. He'd passed out half way through the whipping.

Over the man's head dangled the feet of his brother, swinging by a rope around his neck — very, very dead. How do you know it is the brother? Has she observed them for days, or is there a family resemblance? A few feet in front of the bleeding man lay his mistress. Again, how do you know that? Lola had watched as the men gang raped her — right in front of her lover and his brother. Same thing. How does Lola know these relationships? Their screams had drowned the woman's, but now there was only the sound of the marauders looting the nearby cabin and barn. Lola could hear the woman whimpering softly.



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Finding Writing Ideas In Your Holiday Festivities

Christina Sexton Wilcox

How The Holiday Rush & Post-Holiday Slump Can Keep You Writing All Year Long


It's ironic. The same season that generates the most fuel for our creative fires is the same one that leaves us the least amount of time to take advantage of all this inspiration. Whether our holiday is Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwaanza, or something else, many of us are in total sensory overload for the entire month of December (at least). Inspiration comes in through all five of our senses. Whether it's the smell of cookies and holiday dinner in the oven, the sound of logs crackling in the fireplace and children playing in the snow, the sight of holiday decorations around the house, the feel of sticky pine cones in our hands, there's no shortage of opportunities to translate sensory perceptions into words. And add to all that the stories that inevitably get shared at family gatherings. It's a pity we can't kick everyone out for several days so that we can write it all down.

Fortunately, the post-holiday lull — known as the month of January — provides 31 days for doing just that. What follows are ideas for capturing the sights and sounds and smells of the holiday season that just wrapped up — and preparing for the next one. And if you mine your holidays really well, you'll find dozens of article ideas that you can pitch to publications.

Write About Food

It's always better to get your cravings down on paper than down your pipes — a motto that's too late for Holiday Season 2002 but that should be remembered for Holiday Season 2003. Liven up your stories with interspersed details of smells and textures of your (characters') favorite foods. Write a scene where interesting things happen to your protagonist when he smells gingerbread baking. If this makes your cravings more intense, then do the opposite: Write about foods you love to eat, but add a bad outcome. Your favorite eggnog was left in the sun, turned green and chunky, but you drank it anyway. Give details of the eggnog's lumpy journey through your digestive system. What a great way to kill off that pesky antagonist. And if that doesn't cure your craving, nothing will.

Write about foods you hate, how you think fruitcake is the most vile of foods, or how your cousin Benny once stuck a candy cane up his nose and now you can't even look at one without seeing it coming out of his mouth. Rather than just capturing how apple pie smells when it's baking, write about how it changes after a couple of days in the refrigerator. Or how the spices in pumpkin pie overtake the taste of the pumpkin when the pie is three or four days old.

The sense of smell and taste are often our strongest memory-releasers. Think back to your childhood Christmas or Hanukkah when you came in from the snowy afternoon to smell cider or mulled wine brewing. How about the way a basting turkey makes the whole house smell like love? This is a wonderful time for memories and memoir writing. You might be surprised at how much you remember by focusing on the feasts while evoking all your senses.

Send In Your Favorite Recipes

This is a great time to break out those time-tested recipes. Don't limit yourself, cooking magazines aren't the only ones who accept recipes. Local newspapers often run holiday specials and pay for recipes. My local paper even wanted a related family anecdote to go along with a recipe! Home and garden and women's magazines often feature some kind of food section. Pick your favorites and send for guidelines so that you can submit your ideas for the next holiday. Maybe your Aunt Ruth's mincemeat pie could earn you some holiday cash.

Also, don't limit yourself to recipes for holiday entertaining. Look at the recipes and tricks that you, your mother, your aunt, your neighbor use in order to clean out leftover turkey or roast beef. Nearly any publication that runs holiday recipes is also looking for creative ways to use up the leftovers. Ditto if you have recipes that cater to special dietary needs, such as diabetes, high cholesterol, low-fat, heart-healthy, and food allergies. There are dozens of special interest magazines and newsletters for people with these health concerns, and even newspapers and general-interest women's magazines will consider running these kinds of topics.

When You Do Bake Again, Make Time To Write

If the December wind stirs in you a primal need to break out the flour, sugar, and eggs, go ahead and indulge yourself in the fine art of baking. Notice how your hands feel when kneading dough, how your kitchen smells when the cinnamon and nutmeg bake, or how just a small amount of walnuts can make your mouth itchy. Note all the emotions you feel when creating something from scratch. Let your mind wander. Downtime is when your best ideas flow. Many of these sensory images can become sensory details that enrich your poetry, short stories, or novels.

If you must bake, you must give it all away. But when you give it away, make it a grand affair. Wrap up your goodies in festive ribbons, take a day to hand deliver them and socialize with family and friends. This is a great time to extract holiday stories from an aging aunt or neighbor. Write a poem on a note card and attach it with the goodies, even if you deliver in person. Make your poems specific to the food you've baked or the person you are giving it to, or both. Keep the writing channels open at all times.

Take A Walk

When taking a break from your writing, pass up the kitchen and go straight for the porch. Soak in the seasonal smells while gathering ideas for your prose. What is the major difference in the air from season to season? The smell, the temperature, the color? What are the differences in your garden? Have the bulbs died back to reveal winter pansies? Is everything greener with the rains or going dormant with the frost? Walk around your block. Who decorates their homes or yards for holidays throughout the year (such as Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, etc.)? Which ones are tasteful, which ones gaudy? Do people you pass seem nicer or more hurried? Can you see their breath yet? Will you ever? Do you dream of warmer or colder climate?

If setting is an essential element in your stories, cull from your own sense of season. Note how specific spots along your walking route change throughout the year; these details can enrich a piece of writing later on. If you find yourself overloaded with ideas and have a hard time remembering them all when you get back to your desk, carry a small tape recorder with you. You might even carry a camera and snap pictures if you want to remember a lot of details from a scene; then archive the pictures somewhere — in a notebook or journal or as digital images on your computer's hard drive — and write something about each one. Why did you take the picture? Why was one scene along your route more in need of photographing than another? If you could change anything in the photographed scene, what would it be?

Capture Your Memories

Sift through your just-developed photographs from the holiday parties and family gatherings and journal a few paragraphs for each one. Use these as springboards to capture other memories to the best of your recollection. How do things look in hindsight? What was it like to take over preparations for the family holiday dinner from your mother (who did it for the last 30 years)? If you're newly remarried and this was the first holiday that your own children spent with their new step-siblings, how did things go? If you're recently separated or divorced, how was New Year's Eve different this year (and don't go for the obvious things)? If this was the first year that your child really "got" the concept of Santa and opening presents, how did that change Christmas morning for you and your spouse?

All of this is fodder for everything from personal essays to memoirs to short stories to scenes in a novel or a play. With hindsight and insight, you might even find some ideas for interview-based articles for magazines and newspapers. Interpersonal relationships provide a lot of fodder for "coping articles." Parents need advice on getting their children through their first holiday after a divorce. Newlyweds are faced with the "in-law shuffle," the sometimes nightmarish logistics of deciding which set of parents gets them Christmas Eve and which gets them for Christmas Day. New parents struggle with carting an infant from house to house, negotiating everything from the comedic (packing enough baby supplies for the day without requiring a suitcase) to the angst-ridden (worrying about what sicknesses they might be exposing them to). Personal experience is a major key, and asset, for these types of articles.

Focus On The Summer

Not only do you need to be planning queries for the next holiday season, you also need to focus on the seasons that come before. Magazines generally have a six-month lead-time. Keep your mind on June and what articles your favorite magazines might need for their summer issues. Think about summer article ideas: the best local summer programs for kids, travel articles on pet-friendly resorts, or a glamour article on the best self-tanning lotions. Keeping short shorts and bikinis in mind will help keep your fingers from dipping into the fudge bowl.

 

 

 

 

Snacking Tips For Writers
Let's be honest — holiday munching doesn't exactly end with the holidays. Depending on what you do for Christmas and New Year's Eve, there's pie and cookies, chips and dips, cheese and crackers, beer and wine hanging around the house well into the first week of January. And let's not forget what came in as gifts from well-meaning friends and family: assorted candies, cookies, chocolates, cheese trays, bread and scone mixes, sets of dessert sauces, bags of gourmet coffees (which always seem to make cookies given as gifts all the more irresistible), and on and on. If we're not careful, we end up eating in holiday mode right up until Easter — particularly since so many of these gift goodies are perfect for eating while we're sitting at the computer writing.

So before you take the cellophane off that box of Belgian chocolates that your Aunt Trina sent you check out the following tips. And if you discover some things that work for you (alternative snacks, ways to actually get yourself to drink enough water every day), nearly all of them can be pitched as an article idea or short tip somewhere.

Keep The Water Flowing
Although it may be getting colder, water is still your best friend. Just because you're not sweating or feel thirsty, you still need at least 64 ounces a day. It will not only help you feel full, but will keep your metabolism revving. If you can't bring yourself to drink that much water, look to alternatives that offer more flavor, same benefits, and few to no calories: flavored water, sparkling water, or seltzer, or herbal tea, or water spiked with a little bit of fruit juice.

Don't Snack While You Work
A bowl full of chocolate candy can disappear fast if you don't pay attention. When you have a snack, walk away from your workstation and sit in an uncomfortable chair. Getting away from your desk allows you to keep eating and working in different "compartments" in your brain. By doing so, your brain doesn't automatically think that it's snack time when you sit down at your computer. Focus on the act of chewing and tasting. Engage all your senses and chew slowly. By the time you're done with your snack, you'll feel more satisfied and the need to return to a more comfortable chair will bring you back to the keyboard happily.

Go For Fresh Foods
In some regions, having a juicy nectarine in December is impossible. Take advantage of the upcoming summer produce season and stock up on your favorites. Cut your fruits into small pieces and freeze them for later. Although many fruits turn brown when frozen, the flavor is sealed in. It's a joy to defrost a bowl of August peaches in January, or use the pieces of frozen cantaloupe in a yogurt smoothie. Fruit not only provides much-needed nutrients, but satisfies sugar cravings as well. (And if you do find a way to freeze fruits without having them turn brown, nearly every cooking magazine out there is willing to pay to publish your secret.)

Create A Motivation
I took one of my favorite (and as of today, still-too-small) dresses and hung it up in my office for motivation. This not-so-subtle reminder helps to me to remember my long-term objective: to change my holiday munch-months from a feeding frenzy into a beautiful, festive season full of great prose!

Turn Your Gifts Into Writing Ideas For The Next Holiday Season
We might as well be honest with ourselves. Eventually, we're going to break into that canister of Hershey Kisses or have a disagreement with our boss that sends us home to open that collection of Walker's shortbread cookies and snarf them down in front of the TV. If we're really kind to ourselves, we'll simply take the stuff to the office and...ahem..."spread the wealth."

If we're creative, we'll suggest an "exchange day" at the office, a Friday afternoon a few weeks after the holidays when everyone brings in the snacks they received and shares them — getting them out of the house once and for all. But when you do so, make note of what you see in this exchange, what you liked best, what others liked best, what the most popular food items were, how people described what they did and didn't like. You'll undoubtedly find several "buyer's guide" ideas that you can pitch to anyone from a niche magazine to your community newspaper for Christmas 2003.


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Poetics

Christine Henderson

Choosing Your Words

If poetry is defined as a pure way of expressing thought or emotion, then we, as poets, must strive for the greatest impact using the most concise phrases. In order to do this; we must choose our words carefully, using language to conjure images in our readers' minds. We must make each word count, aiming for no waste of space.

Set the mood by your choice of adjectives. A bitter, growling wind and a sunset of violent, raging purples and reds prepares your reader for an angry confrontation. That same wind could caress and the sunset present a sensuous, velvet tapestry, if you were having a clandestine affair. If the wind blows and the sunset lights the sky, your reader has to wait to find out what sort of temperament the hero is in.

The right word or name can be the difference between a good phrase and a mediocre one. "For Whom the Bell Rings" doesn't have the same image as "For Whom the Bell Tolls," does it? Was it an accident that "Casey at the Bat," by Thayer, was set in Mudville? Do you think Alice would have been as enchanted in Little Rock? And Romeo wouldn't have been quite as dreamy if his mother had named him Hubert. We all have images associated with sounds and names, so take advantage of this when creating a scene.

Work with different descriptions, such as "wiry as cat whiskers" or "wispy as kitten whiskers" (check it out if you don't think there is a difference!). Twist a common phrase. Aim for action to shock the senses. Instead of "the stain on the carpet caught his eye," say "the blood stain screamed for attention" or, even better, "the blood stain screamed MURDER!" Startle your reader into seeing a subject for the first time. In "From the Corner of His Eye," Dean Koontz describes a necktie as being made "from the flag of some obscure third-world country with no fashion sense." No other comment is necessary — that tie is vividly imprinted into your mind.

Use colors to anchor emotions. Common identifications, such as red for anger, blue for sadness, green for envy, and white for innocence help to set a scene. "Her words were sharp, with emerald edges" or "His eyes shot scarlet bullets" draws an immediate understanding of the situation from the reader.

Set the pace by the rhythm of words. Use long, languid sounds for a leisurely look at something, and quick, crackling words for a heart-stopping story. In developing these sounds, use the words themselves, and the vowels — long sounds such as L, M, N or S or the short, abrupt sounds of D, J, K, or T. The pulse of the story will engulf the reader as quickly as any full-blown description.

Pace can also be established by punctuation and sentence structure. Using short, staccato sentences and statements will make the reader's mind work quickly, and using the opposite — slow, complex sentences — forces him to read calmly, and carefully consider your words.

Be a master of your craft. Get the most out of each word. Make your reader see, touch, and feel your poem, essay, or story. If you can do this in an imaginative way, he will come back for more. Wouldn't you?


 

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Poetics Presents

Lori Romero

Lori Romero, now relocated to Los Angeles, was a founding member of The New Math Theatre Company and a co-founder of the Colorado theatre company, Hunger. She also served as Artistic Director of Friends & Artists Theatre Ensemble in LA. Her critically acclaimed play, The Running of the Grunions, was her first play. Her poems and short stories have appeared in Writer's Digest, Mystic River Review, Moxie Magazine and the Onset Review.
 

Last Call at Kelly's

The old man
Skin as thin as glaze on a donut
Teeth the tint of light mahogany
Smelling of potato mold and whiskey

The old man
Life etched deep, a perfect walnut shell
Arms sparse as slivered moons
Hair a weary wisp of careless atoms

The old man
Ears like crumpled Kleenex
Hands gnarled bonsai trees
Back a bent bridge linking head to foot

The old man
Body a scarecrow to death
Sings "Pennies From Heaven"
In a voice as clear as a Pandean pipe

Copyright © 2002 by Lori Romero

 


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Poetics Presents

Cynthia Wright

Cynthia Wright describes herself as a United States Gypsy traveling the country in a bus and waking the neighbors by banging her head on the thin walls when the right words are missing.
 

A Mule and A Pair

Papa used to sing
about a good cigar.

He could enunciate
serendipity
always thinking
it meant a mule's contemplations
while chewing fresh oats.

The man could trade a dry cow
for an old Model T
and sell the parts for fifty dollars
in a single day.

He asked for banana pudding one morning,
     but forgot;
went across Red River with a buddy
getting drunk on his first shot
of Oklahoma firewater.

Brilla was calm at 2 am,
November 18, 1931
when he tumbled through
the back door
     sneaky-like.

"You asked for it. Now
you eat every bite."

Papa kept to the Texas side
of the river after that.

Copyright © 2002 by Cynthia Wright

 


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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

Christmas On Ice

The crackling sound of tiny ice pellets hitting windows signaled the bad news: three days before Christmas, 1998, and we were having an ice storm.

"I hope we don't lose power," I said. I snuffled and huddled under a blanket on the sofa. I was coming down with a nasty head cold and unwilling to bother with the everyday housework.

Ignoring me, David laughed in front of the TV as he watched news clips of people stocking up for the storm. For some reason, the "stocking up" segments shown on the local news stations always seem to involve images of clerks running cases of beer across grocery store scanners. "We blew it; I didn't stock up on beer," he said. We both chuckled.

All night Tuesday and well into Wednesday the 23rd, for a full 36 hours, ice continued to fall, creating a thick coating that weighed down tree branches and eventually bent them till they snapped. By evening, there was enough ice on the trees that they were falling all over the place, knocking down power lines as they keeled over.

Up the hill behind our home, the neighbors' dog sat outdoors in the freezing rain, barking continuously. In response to his cries, the dog's owners turned on their powerful backyard security light and continued to ignore him. David and I took turns muttering, "I can't believe they're not letting him in. Poor dog."

At 9:30 p.m. our power went out, so we lay in the dark listening to "Craaackk—BOOM!" and "Arrfff!" noises all night long. Huge limbs and trees as large as 3 feet in diameter fell in our neighborhood, making a mess that would look like a game of pick-up sticks gone bad when daylight appeared. Meanwhile, noise carried so well on the sharp winter air that it sounded as if every tree and branch was falling in our own yard. The entire night was terrifying.

The next morning we arose in a chilly house, serenaded by our neighbor Richard's gas-powered chainsaw. The chainsaw buzzed away as he worked at cutting his truck from beneath a tangle of limbs. "Can't get out of my driveway!" Richard said with a laugh, when we stepped outside to survey the damage.

Our power was still out and we knew it could easily remain off for as long as a week, so we dressed in our warmest layers and donned our winter coats as the air in the house grew colder.

By late afternoon on Christmas Eve, the temperature in our home was down to 56 degrees. My nose was running like an open tap and I was exhausted from a sleepless night but couldn't lie down to nap, thanks to the fact that I had to keep moving to stay warm.

"Can we go to a hotel in Jackson?" I pleaded. "I feel awful; I need warmth. You don't want me to get sicker, do you?" Vicksburg was practically shut down by the storm, with power outages throughout town and into the outlying county neighborhoods.

David gave me a meaningful gaze. "I guess we could give it a try," he answered. "The roads are fine."

"How will we handle Christmas morning, though?"

He shrugged. "I'll take the Santa gifts and a few other small things."

I felt lousy enough that I packed only necessities and clothing, leaving the Santa duties to David. Suitcases were loaded into the car and we took off for Jackson, savoring the warmth of the car's heater. We ended up on the north side of town in a nice, inexpensive hotel with an indoor swimming pool.

After checking into the hotel, we realized we had no swim trunks for the children.

"Let's run to Target to see if they've got any," David said. Target was just miles down the road.

"They're not going to have swim trunks in December!" I told him. "And it's 5:30 on Christmas Eve. Even if they're open, they won't be for long."

"Well, we'd better hurry, then."

We dashed to the car and zipped over to Target as quickly as possible. Although we were only able to find swim trunks for our eldest child, we located some thick thermal boxer shorts that we thought would serve as an adequate substitute for our then-7-year-old,William.

Back at the hotel, the children had a blast swimming away the evening hours. Supper consisted of a rather pitiful blend of hastily-grabbed snack foods from Target and vending machine fare, but everyone was happy.

After several hours of swimming and warm baths all around, the children finally drifted off to sleep.

"Okay," David whispered. "I'll go get the stuff out of the car."

He dragged in a black trash bag containing gifts from Santa, stockings and their stuffings, and a few other small items.

"How do we do this?" I looked around. No tree, no chimney—only a plate-glass window. Santa was going to have to come up with a mighty creative plan.

David pondered for a moment and then settled on an upholstered recliner near the window. "We'll just put the gifts out like this," he said, arranging packages on the seat of the chair. "And put the stockings over the back." The end result was a bit weird, but we thought it would do.

In the morning, the children awoke to the unexpected collection of Christmas surprises. William looked stunned. "Santa didn't bring this stuff," he said. "You guys hid it in the car, didn't you? The real presents are at home, right?"

"No," I replied. "This is what Santa brought, plus a few things that Dad dragged along from home. Santa hacked his way through the glass because he knew you'd be sad if you had to miss out on Christmas morning."

Will scowled. "There's not a hole in the window."

"Of course not. He magically repaired it so we wouldn't freeze. Santa has magical powers, you know."

"But we're on the fifth floor."

Sigh. At the age of 7, William's youthful trust in the mythical Santa was permanently warped.

Back in Vicksburg the next day, our power was finally restored. Things were returning to normal as the house warmed up and everyone resumed their regular routines. The fact that our unorthodox Christmas ranked high among our favorite holiday experiences was confirmed, later that day, as we discussed our experience. The ice storm had been a nuisance, we agreed, but this Christmas was unusually fun. How often do you get to spend Christmas Eve paddling around in a warm swimming pool?

William piped in with a thought that summed it all up. Bouncing around the room as he spoke, he asked the unexpected question. "Can we do it again next year?"



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Tips for Writers

by Writers' Village University members


As writers, we know what works for our muse and what doesn't. A certain method may help one person while a different technique will benefit another, yet both are viable options. From the simple to the elaborate, WVU members share the following writers' tips that have helped them move forward with their writing.


The Sourdough Starter Sentence
by Charity Tahmaseb

My mom keeps sourdough starter in the refrigerator: a batch that has been living for years. The night before baking a fresh loaf of bread, she measures out a cup of the starter and lets it sit. After eight hours at room temperature, the frothy, fermenting mix is ready to make bread rise.

The same principle can be applied to writing. Many writers ease into writing time: a walk, a cup of coffee, email — all at the expense of the writing time itself. Next time consider a starter sentence. Before you sip that first cup of coffee or peruse email, write the first sentence (or paragraph) of whatever it is you'll be working on that day. Then reward yourself with the latte, a walk, a glance at eBay.

That first bit of writing will bubble and ferment in the back of your mind. You may even find yourself anxious rather than reluctant to return to the page. With your starter already at work, who knows what great things will rise up.


Read it Out Loud
by Betty Kreier-Lubinski

A good piece of writing has a kind of rhythm and flow to it. One of the best ways to see if a piece flows smoothly is to read it aloud. You'll discover any awkward parts that way. Reading aloud also enables you to listen to your dialogue to make sure it sounds like real people talk.


Let Yourself Go
by Sherri Arnold

Don't try to be perfect. Let yourself go. When writing, just get it down. It can always be fixed later. If you have nothing to write, just write about your surroundings, what happened to you today, how you hate your boss, whatever. Just get it out. Let yourself be free to write poorly; you'll be surprised at the real writing that will come out of just letting yourself go.


Write at a Different Place
by Judith Fox

I've found the magic of longhand writing. Some people say they can't do it. But hovering over the computer keyboard, day after day, hour after hour, occasionally the creative muse in you lies down to have a rest.

Horrors. The evil internal editor jumps up to take over and gives you niggling doubts and ceaseless criticisms.

But if I go to Starbucks, sit at my favorite table with my extra foamy latte, take pen in hand and write in my scribbler, it works, and the writing flows.

I wonder if that internal editor isn't allowed in Starbucks?


Writing Time is the Right Time to Write!
by Millie Dunn

We've all had it happen to us. You're writing a great story or article and the ideas and words are coming fast and furious. Then you get to that word, fact, date, or name and draw a blank. What do you do? Go through the alphabet? Head to the nearest thesaurus? Calendar? History book? No! Just draw a line or pencil in as a reminder to look it up later and keep writing. You'll be amazed how smoothly it goes when you don't allow yourself to stop and ponder. Later, when you read what you've written and are ready to edit and revise, you'll find that word or take the time to look up that fact and fit it in.


Building the Clues Frees the Muse
by Christina Sexton Wilcox

Don't you just hate it when you're searching in vain for just the right word? Not just any word, but one that finishes off an alliteration or one that, say, rhymes with dandelion. Maybe I am looking for one that starts with "STR" or ends in "ING".

For poets and writers alike, the right word is only a visual clue away. I created (and have hanging near my computer) a list of all the letters of the alphabet and every possible combination of beginning letter pairs, prefixes and suffixes.

For example, my list (divided into columns) not only includes A to Z, but shows the vowels (and phonetic vowel sounds) separately, then begins with BL and BR, then CH CK CL CR, etc. The combinations can be three letters as well as seen in the S list: SC SCH SH SK SL SM SN SP SQU ST SV SW SY.

The Suffix List can consist of common ones: -able, -ance, -ed, -ing, and -tion. But I have also added a few of the ones I use a lot: -ated, -ion, -ive, -ivy... I encourage each writer to make up a personal list. Organize it in a way that makes sense to you.

Having my list available at a glance keeps me rolling along and hardly ever at a loss for words!


The Back Door to a Writing Career
by Sunnye Tiedemann

The novice freelance writer is confronted with the classical Catch-22: You have to present clips of published writing to get published, and you can't get clips unless you are published. It seems as though the door is closed. But there's a crack in that door to publishing: book reviewing. Many newspaper publishers are more than willing — anxious, in fact — to publish well-written, thoughtful and insightful book reviews. Large newspapers like the NY Times or Washington Post have a "stable" of reviewers so skip those, but suburban and rural papers are viable markets. So read the Sunday book reviews in your local newspaper, copy the style, and write a review of the latest book you enjoyed. Mail it to the editor posthaste and in two weeks make a follow-up phone call to see if they received it. When I did, the editor hired me to write a weekly book review column. I used those clips to launch a career writing magazine articles. Book reviewing is truly the back door to publishing.


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Writer's Fatigue

by Radika Meganathan

A Guide To The Ailments That Affect Writers Of All Ages


You're writing the climax scene and Captain Cuthbert is about to save the screaming heroine from the pirates. Suddenly, your thought process gets muddled and you turn blank. You know exactly how the climax is going to turn out, but your fingers are uncooperative, your mind refuses to function, you move around like your pet turtle, and there's a shooting pain in your spine and shanks.

It is 2:02 a.m. You're mad at the cat for having vocal cords, the children for sleeping blissfully, and at yourself for not having enough fingernails to bite. Finally, giving in to your drooping eyes, you hop into bed for your beauty sleep. Blink, blink. Toss. Turn. After several minutes of number counting and woolgathering, you concede defeat. You cannot sleep.

You've been waiting for weeks for the Big News, but instead you get another rejection letter. The working-until-all-hours for the past two months, sacrificing sleep, forgetting about family and food, has all been for nothing. You feel defeated, wishing you could forget it all and disappear to some place where there are no word processors or deadlines.

Do any of these situations sound familiar? If so, then it's time to stop writing for a while and start thinking about your health.

The Health Hazards Of Being A Writer
Writing is work — hard, persistent, mind-numbing work. It requires input from the mind and the body, because even though you think with your mind, it is your body that must perform the tasks. A construction worker does strenuous physical work, but he gradually trains his body to do it fluently and develops a good physique. We writers often do exactly the opposite. We strain, not train, through bad posture, improper nutrition, and incorrect ergonomics — all of which result in fatigue and aches and pains.

After five years of academic and freelance writing, I've realized there are certain maladies that affect almost everyone who writes regularly. As writers, it is our hands and eyes that perform the most important task of transmitting our thoughts into solid words. Physical ailments like carpal tunnel syndrome, tendonitis, and back strain are common. But while these can cause extreme pain and put you out of the writing business, others like insomnia and depression are no less dangerous and can wreak havoc with your life.

Help For The Hurting Writer
Musculo-skeletal back problems are a major cause of disability among writers. Our body was not designed to sit in the same position for prolonged periods of time. The position occupied while using a computer is not good for our backs and can result in muscle pain and spinal problems.

Ergonomic Intelligence is vital to all writers. The best writer's chair is comfortable and adjustable with soft upholstery and an armrest. A wrist pad, footrest, and a good desk lamp wouldn't hurt either. Concentrate on the little details. Sit straight, without slouching. Position your keyboard at elbow height to avoid hunched shoulders and neck pain, and take short walks to relieve stiff muscles and mental stress.

Another problem that many writers suffer from is tired and burning eyes. Staring at a computer screen can lead to a drop in your "blink rate," which causes your eyes to become dry. This, in turn, can lead to blurred vision and headaches and, ultimately, a loss of concentration and efficiency.

To prevent this, keep your computer screen at eye level or slightly higher, never lower. Develop a routine of taking frequent breaks. (Frequent short breaks are better than fewer long ones.) During a break, it's important to rest your eyes by looking away from the screen. At the same time, you can relieve some of the stress on your body by relaxing your hands, arms, and shoulders. Alternating tasks whenever possible is also a good way to prevent both eye and musculo-skeletal problems.

The Ill-Fed Writer
Dyspepsia, heartburn, acid stomach ... all of these are frequent visitors to the writer whose preference for food comes only after that of writing. When you work continuously before the computer, it is easy to forget about food.

It's surprising just how many writers maintain an unbalanced, under-nourishing diet. Most of my writing buddies eat without moving from the computer. They have a bowl next to them and dig into it with the left hand while typing furiously with the right. They have no idea how much they have consumed or what they have just eaten.

An engine that hasn't been fed the proper petrol never functions well and ultimately breaks down. Similarly, food is the only way to keep your body and, subsequently, your "workability factor" at a high efficiency level.

Start your day by having a wholesome breakfast. A nutritious and balanced diet can do wonders for your metabolism and creativity. Make it a point to have more fibrous foods and less red meat. Drink 10 glasses of water every day to beat the constipation and dehydration that can result from sedentary work. Seasonal fruits and salads not only refresh you, but also give you the much-needed break from spicy, cholesterol-laden food, improving your health, complexion, and zest.

Sleep Aids
Are you the type who attacks the computer whenever your muse decides to visit? If so, then you may be experiencing sleep difficulties. Insomnia is one of the most common ailments that affects the midnight writer, and this can lead to increased stress and lower productivity. The human body is programmed from infancy to work during the day and rest in the night; therefore, changing the body clock drastically can have serious repercussions on mind and body.

This best remedy for this is maintaining a regular schedule. Procrastination is the main culprit for working at wrong times of the day. To avoid this, write down your commitments and deadlines on a paper and post it someplace that you can see it while you're working. This will make you remember your time limit and not put off important tasks.

Learn to work during the day. Yes, it is impossible to predict when you will get that great idea, and many writers have full-time jobs that make writing during the day difficult, but you should still try to work out a schedule that allows you eight full hours of sleep.

Don't overlook the time-tested remedies either. The age-old concoction, warm milk and honey after dinner, will grant you a deep sleep, as will a soft, cushiony sleeping surface. And don't even think of sleeping in your chair, with your feet propped up on the computer table. Just last year, I spent lavish money on medication and physiotherapy after I managed to fall off the chair and dislocate my disc. I was also left with a broken UPS and a very irritated parent.

Overcoming Rejection
Rejection and criticism in response to great expectations can lead to feelings of isolation and inferiority. You may even lose the drive or inclination to write out of fear of more rejections. Sometimes the depression can be so severe that it leads to more serious problems such as alcoholism, violence, and alienation from loved ones. In that case, it is necessary to seek professional counseling. If you're simply suffering the disheartened feeling that comes with rejection, there are ways to rejuvenate yourself.

One way is to read books about writing, subscribe to writing magazines, or take an online writing course. This will often inspire you to try again. Writers tend to feel unique in their failures. Finding a writing buddy, attending a writers‚ conference, or joining a writing group allows you to interact with others in the same situation. It is also a way to gain information about new markets and procedures for getting published. As writer Shirley Redmond says, "Cope, don't mope!"

As somebody who visits the doctor after each hair-wrenching deadline, take my advice. In the long run, health matters. So take time to think about it. A healthy body and mind mean a healthy and active writer.


REFERENCE:
WEB SITES & LINKS

Ergonomics
1. http://www.sfwa.org/ergonomics — The Science Fiction Writers Association has a page full of valuable information about the need for good ergonomics for writers of all ages.

2. http://www.healthycomputing.com — Not only about ergonomics, this site has all the necessary information one should know about healthy computer usage. Don't miss it!

Diet & Nutrition
These sites offer information about nutrition and stress the importance of a good and balanced diet for your whole system:
http://www.nutriwatch.org  
http://www.nutrifit.org/nutr_info/nuted.html  

Depression
These sites deal with writer's depression:
http://www.health-nexus.com/manic-depressive_disorder1.htm 
http://www.speculations.com/depression.htm  


About the Author:

Radika Meganathan is a final-year architecture student and eclectic writer based in Chennai, India. Apart from freelancing sporadically for magazines and e-zines, she is currently involved in publishing her free newsletter for beginning writers, "The Budding Writer," by New Year's Eve. To learn more, visit her Web page at http://pages.ivillage.com/jwaala  or go to http://www.topica.com/lists/buddingwriter.



T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Writer's Read

Wynelda-Ann Shelton

Isabel's Bed

Isabel's Bed
By Elinor Lipman
Washington Square Press, Paperback
$14.00 US, ISBN 0 67 101 5648
 

In Isabel's Bed, Elinor Lipman deals with the question of voice in writing. Harriet Mahoney, a would-be writer, has just ended a long-term relationship with her boyfriend and decides to take a job as a ghost writer for Isabel.

Isabel's story is one of sex and murder, and with the court trial of her lover's wife and the ensuing media coverage, Isabel's story has already been sold. She hires Harriet to be her ghost writer, to give the story shape and a voice. But the question becomes: Is Harriet's voice the right one for Isabel's story?

Harriet's voice, her style of writing, just isn't quite right for the story. At one point, Harriet and Isabel submit a chapter each to see whose version the publisher prefers. The publisher prefers Isabel's version, and Harriet becomes a typist. By the end of the novel, it seems as if Harriet has given up on writing, having opened her own bagel shop.

But has she? Isabel's Bed is told in first person narrative by Harriet's character. While Isabel's story was not hers to tell, Harriet's own story is charming and witty. While the central plot seems to be about Isabel and getting her memoir written, it isn't her character that goes through a transformation. It is Harriet who grows and learns to accept herself and her life.

As a writer, I was disheartened to see the grand opening of the bagel shop at story's end. I thought, there goes another one. More dreams dashed against the wall of reality. It wasn't until I realized that Harriet had just shared her story with me that I got it. Yes, she was the typist for Isabel.

But Harriet the writer became the heroine of her own story.


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Submissions Guidelines (Updated)

Until further notice, only plain text submissions in the body of the email will be considered.
NO ATTACHMENTS.

What We Pay For

Fiction: Stories should be of interest to writers in general, not just a narrow group.

Fiction should be submitted to fiction@thewritersezine.com. Payment starts at $15.00.

If considered for publication, you will be asked to return an email agreement including your name and address.

Craft Features: Queries about Craft features should be sent to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Payment starts at $15.00, and, if considered, you will be sent an email agreement to fill out and return.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Please do not email us to ask what we pay for in other categories. When we can add to our list, we will include it in these guidelines.

What We Publish

Original short fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, particularly non-fiction related to the craft of writing and interviews.

For fiction we prefer something with a plot and resolution. If we like the main character, we are more likely to accept the story. If the main character has a problem to resolve or has to make a choice, that's conflict, and we love conflict! Too many writers confuse conflict with fight scenes. Don't be one of them. Give us a protagonist who acts, makes choices no matter how hard they are to solve his or her dilemma, not a wimp who drifts along and has to be rescued.

Non-fiction should be related to the craft of writing or be good resource material for writers. Accuracy and originality are vital. No reprints. If it has already been published somewhere else, our readers will spot it and let us know.

What We Won't Publish

Anything that inspires "hate," is defamatory or is pornographic.

Simultaneous submissions.

Material that has appeared elsewhere (reprints).

Seasonal material submitted during the same month (i.e., a Christmas story in December). Our lead time is short compared to print publications, but we do need time to edit, html and proof submission. A good guideline is to submit the manuscript by the first of the preceding month (i.e., submit a Christmas story before November 1st).

Length Recommendations

  • For Fiction, under 1500 words is preferred. We will consider excerpts from longer works.

  • Poetry should fit on one printed page if possible. A maximum of five poems may be submitted at one time (when the hold is lifted).

  • Non-fiction or Craft features have the most leeway in word count. In general these manuscripts should be 750 to 2,000 words. We like to take advantage of the hypertext capabilities we have available and link to charts, graphs, lists and so forth. Thumbnail versions may be included in the body of the article.

Rights

All rights other than first electronic, non-exclusive 'anthology' (for collections of T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine works only), and non-exclusive archival rights (we keep back issues online) are and remain the sole and exclusive property of the author.

Formats We Will Accept

Plain text in the body of an email.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine is an HTML publication. This gives us access to a variety of options but it is also a limiting factor.

  • Underlining is used exclusively for links in HTML. Please do not underline in your manuscript. It you are including a link to a webpage for reference, please mark the link the following way: (WEB LINK) http://thewritersezine.com (END WEB LINK).
  • The less than (<) and greater than (>) signs are used to enclose HTML encoding. If you need to use brackets, please use the square [ ] ones instead.
  • Paragraph indentation requires time consuming insertion of multiple HTML symbols. Please separate paragraphs by inserting a hard, blank line between them.
  • Fonts need to be simple. No multiple fonts. We prefer standard fonts such as Times New Roman, Courier or Arial set at 12 point. If your subject matter requires something else, ask us first.
  • The curly (smart) quotes, apostrophes, the em dash (two hyphens together) and ellipsis … (three periods) become strange and exotic characters when copied from your word processor into email. Check your preferences or options to see if you can use straight quotes. 
  • Text formatting such as bold, italic, centering, bullet list, etc., should be noted in the text by using all caps in parentheses. For example, if you wanted to italicize the word submission, you would type: (ITALICS) submission (END ITALICS).

Editing

We expect you to run spell-check and to check your grammar and punctuation before submitting. We will not reject a submission for a few typos or errors, but will if there are an excessive number of errors.

Note: Since our reading audience is international, we do not require a specific version of English. Use the spelling appropriate to your region.

We will automatically correct obvious typos such as “ton” for “not” and may correct simple agreement problems. For anything beyond that, time permitting, we will return the submission to you with a request for corrections.

Getting to Know You

Fiction and Craft features published in T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine include brief third person biographical notes on the writers. For all submissions, please compose your own bio and include it to save our editors and yourself time later if/when your piece is accepted for publication. We suggest sharing a little about your background, occupation, geographical location and what inspired your story.

How and Where to Submit

We do not accept submissions via US mail. Email submissions only, to the appropriate department, in the body of the email. No attachments accepted.

Fiction should be sent to fiction@thewritersezine.com.

Craft Non-fiction should be queried first. Send query to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Include the type of submission (fiction, non-fiction) in the subject line.

Be sure to include your name and email address in the body of the email.

If you do not receive an acknowledgement that your submission or query was received within a week, please send a follow-up query with “Did you Receive?” in the subject line. In the body of the email, please include your name and email address, the title of the work submitted, and if different, the email address sent from. Do not resend the submission unless we request it.

Good luck!


T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
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Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

 

© Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All rights reserved