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

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The Business of Writing

Diana K. Serquina

Crafting Interview Questions

For many writers, the most stressful part of their job is conducting interviews. After all, many of us like writing, not public speaking—otherwise, we’d be in television or radio, not print media. Coming up with the right questions, and then getting usable answers, can be tough. While interviewing subjects by e-mail reduces a lot of the tension for some writers, there are still challenges. Some are the same ones faced by any interviewer, and some are different.

No Magic Number
How many questions should you ask? That depends on how much information you need. If you’re conducting the interview in person, you can have a list of initial questions, and then ask any follow-up questions as they present themselves during the interview. For e-mail interviews, I usually start with about half a dozen questions or so. That’s usually enough to get what I want, but not so many that I overwhelm my interviewee.

There are some questions you should ask even if you think you know the answer. Always verify the correct spelling of the interviewee’s name, his or her title, and any other relevant details like company name. (Nothing makes a writer look sloppier to an interviewee reading the finished article than a misspelled name or title.) You can actually combine that all into one item. For example, “Please give me the spelling of your name, title, and company name exactly as you want them to appear in the article.”

It’s a good idea to check the pronunciation of names, too. Even though the name will be appearing in print, editors may want to be able to provide the pronunciation in the article if the name is unusual. Also, if the editor or a fact-checker will be calling the interviewee to double-check your material, he or she will want to pronounce the person’s name correctly.

When you’re coming up with your list of interview questions, remember the five Ws you were taught in school: who, what, when, where, why (and the one H—how). If your article is about a person, you’ll be asking different questions than if you’re writing about a company or a technology, but usually you need to address most or all of those points, regardless of your topic.

For the technology articles I wrote, I usually asked the following questions, or variations on them:

  • Who developed the technology?
  • What exactly is the technology? (I was asking for an overview of whatever it was, and would ask follow-up questions as needed.)
  • When was the technology developed? (If it was still in the development process, this question became, “When do you expect this technology to be available on the market?”)
  • Where will this technology be used? (In what industry, by what kind of people, etc.)
  • Why is this technology noteworthy? (What need does it meet)?
  • How was the technology developed? (Was it based on existing technologies, or developed “from scratch”?)
When I’ve interviewed people about their careers, my question list looks more like this:
  • Who are you? (My actual questions were less blunt—confirming name, title, any degrees or professional designations, etc.)
  • What does your job involve? (I often ask for an overview of “a typical day” on the job, in addition to the more formal job description.)
  • When did you start this career? (This involves not only how long they’ve been doing the job, but also whether it was their initial career choice or a career change.)
  • Where did you attend school (or get other training for the job)? Where do you currently work? (company and department, as appropriate)
  • Why did you choose this career? (In this area, I often ask what are the best and worst things about the career or job.)
  • How do you do your job? (What skills do you use, what tools are required, what techniques are applied, etc.)

Getting Good Quotes
How do you get “quotable” answers instead of monosyllables or two-word answers? Phrase your questions so they are not yes/no questions. Make sure the interviewee will have to give you at least a full sentence in response. One way to do that is to phrase your questions as instructions rather than actual questions. Instead of asking a series of questions like, “What year was the company founded?” and “When did the company move to this location?” you can say something like, “Please give me a brief history of the company.” While the first two questions can each be answered with just a date, the third request forces a more detailed response.

Of course, there are times when you just need a few facts (like the year a company was founded). If that’s the case, feel free to ask direct questions that get you short answers with the details you need.

Be Informed—Or Admit Your Ignorance
What if you have to interview someone about a subject you know nothing about? This happened to me many times when I was writing for a magazine that often dealt with new technologies. For one article, I had to interview experts on quantum computing—something I’d never heard of, let alone had any familiarity with.

To handle that kind of situation, do some research before your interview. Read anything you can find on the subject so that you can at least figure out what questions you need to ask. If you can’t find good information, there’s one tactic that has never failed me. I just explained to the interviewee that my readers would not have any prior knowledge of the subject, and asked them to please answer my questions with those readers in mind. I also wasn’t afraid to ask basic questions—like, “What, in lay terminology, is quantum computing?”

Some writers feel that asking questions of that nature makes them look “ignorant.” In my opinion, it’s just doing your job—getting accurate information from experts, instead of guessing or trying to figure things out on your own so you’ll look more informed to your interviewee.

Good interviews don’t guarantee good articles that editors will eagerly accept—but they give you a good foundation to work from.

About the Author
Diana K. Serquina is a freelance writer living in Spokane, Washington. She has written for a variety of magazines and newspapers, and is currently a columnist for the Great Falls (Montana) Tribune. She conducts most of her interviews by e-mail.




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Craft of Writing The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Craft of Writing

Marcia Kiser

Coloring Outside The Lines
How To Add Depth & Texture To Murder Mysteries -- Part 3 -- Weather

Editor's Note: In her previous two articles, Marcia Kiser discussed characters and settings and how going beyond the obvious adds texture to mysteries. In this third article, Kiser looks to the weather to add more depth and texture.

My first artistic endeavors centered around crayons and coloring books, and I was limited by the number of colors in the box and the heavily outlined drawings. From there I graduated to oil painting and found freedom of color and expression. But there was still a lot of structure. Then I discovered the world of watercolor.

When I attempted watercolors, all the rules I learned while working with oils went out the window. No longer was there a careful laying in of the background and the painstaking build out to the foreground. With watercolors, light colors go in first, then darks.

You can add color to writing just as you can to painting, and weather is an often overlooked way to provide color to your murder mysteries. When working weather into your story, start light and build up to darkness, just like creating a watercolor. Let the pageantry and majesty of weather bring your mystery to life.

Create Obstacles
Weather, especially in a mystery, can crank up the tension and add layers of texture to the storyline. Imagine trying to follow car tracks or footprints before a sandstorm or blizzard blows them away. Or trying to gather trace evidence before a threatening rainstorm.

The common adage in mystery writing is, "When the pace needs a jolt, throw in another dead body." Another dead body is sure to pick up readers' interest, but less standard elements sometimes work better. A ferocious rain storm, a tornado, a hailstorm, a blizzard can all add to the story, especially when it has not yet been established that the protagonist can survive the elements.

Most of the Alaskan year is cold, with a few cruelly cold days thrown in. In Dana Stabenow's A Cold Blooded Business, Kate Shugak confronts the weather as she "...then realized the darkness came from a weather front rolling down off the Arctic ice pack, a great boiling mass of fog and snow that engulfed everything in its path..." (page 211). Although readers know Kate Shugak is a native Alaskan and well-acquainted with the trials of the Arctic Circle winter, the tension is cranked up when Kate comments on the magnitude of the weather and the reader begins to wonder if even she can survive it.

Stabenow uses familiar concepts to help the readers feel the weather. For example, "It looked like a Sahara of snow" (A Cold Blooded Business, page 42). The Sahara conjures immediate images of rolling vistas of golden sand. By using something familiar with something unfamiliar, Stabenow gives the reader quick cues to visualize the frozen wasteland that is Alaska.

Crank Up The Tension
In Storm Tracking, Margaret Maron's hurricane becomes a character in the story. "The air was thick with humidity and the sky was full of low gray clouds. There wasn't much here on the ground, but overhead, those clouds scudded eerily past like frantic dirty sheep scattering before wolves we couldn't yet see" (page 197). Readers begin to feel the humidity and the tension of the imminent storm. Maron gives the rain her own distinctive touch in "...the rain was coming down as hard as it could possibly fall, but suddenly it was as if all the fire hoses in heaven were pouring down on the backyard." Fire hoses are a visual clue that Maron uses to reinforce the intensity.

Carolyn G. Hart also uses a hurricane in Dead Man's Island. With a murderer on the loose, the boat destroyed, and a hurricane building, the tension is cranked up to an almost unbearable point. Hart uses the familiar to lay in the texture of the hurricane.

"The wind rolled back that section of roof as neatly as a key curls the lid of a sardine can. Water that had collected on the rooftop sloshed down. Then came the needle-sharp rain. It stung every exposed piece of flesh. The wind pulled and tugged and pummeled, butting us like invisible goats" (page 239).

Smog Alert
Weather can add texture to city environs as well. Major metropolitan areas are perceived, rightly or wrongly, to be constantly overwhelmed with brown air, or smog. While some areas experience dust storms that turn the skies brown, metropolitan areas like Los Angeles seem to have this phenomena daily.

Stephanie Plum, created by Janet Evanovich, sums the smog situation up neatly in Two for the Dough. "I figured if you had to breathe New Jersey air there wasn't much point in getting carried away with always eating healthy food" (page 13). Or, as she opens her story in Three To Get Deadly: "It was January in Trenton. The sky was gunmetal gray, and the air sat dead cold on cars and sidewalks" (page 1). This gives a much different impression of cold and snow than my earlier example of what Kate Shugak experiences in her native Alaska.

As Sue Grafton shows through Kinsey Millhone, even the occurrence of the atypical clear day in a city can add texture and a sense of expectancy. "It was late October, the day before Halloween, and the water was mimicking autumn in the Midwest.... I could have sworn I smelled wood smoke in the air and I half expected the leaves to be turning yellow and rust. All I actually saw were the same old palm trees, the same relentless green everywhere.... It was a typical California unseason, but it felt like fall..." (D is for Deadbeat, page 1).

Write like you would paint. Pick up the reader’s interest by adding color and texture to your writing through the use of weather, characters, and setting.


About The Author
Marcia Kiser writes, works, and lives in Lubbock, TX. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and her short stories have appeared in Nefarious, The Thrilling Detective, Dusty Cowboy, Novel Advice Mysterical-E, FUTURES, and the recently released Novel Advice Anthology. She can be contacted at Mek357@sbcglobal.net.


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Drabble Corner

Michelle Swisz

Here's our first Drabble of the year, by Tom Nelson, on Happiness—

Rise and Shine

In Charlie's room, a respirator forced life into the unresponsive patient in the next bed. At regular intervals a machine sucked mucus from his ruined and useless lungs. Death had emptied the remaining two beds sometime during the night. Laughter from the nurse's station echoed down the cold, dark corridor.

"Good morning Charlie. Rise and shine," said Connie the day shift nurse.

Charlie blinked several times as bright fluorescent light hit his retinas and exploded in his visual cortex. He had survived another night. Outside, birds celebrated with raucous joy as the sun peeked over the gently rolling California hills.

If you were to do a free association on our last topic, happiness, you’d come up with what—sadness, maybe? That’s what I came up with—a lot of it since our last column. Don’t ask. This time, though, having a restriction that there be no romantic relationship in a Drabble that was based on it would be inappropriate.

As with all relationships from time to time, there was a complication. Before the formal revelation, I suspected, and I suppose I knew, that there had been a time bomb in the situation, but I didn't act on it—why? Because I didn't know what to do about it? No, I think it was more because I didn't want to risk the present for the sake of the future. Well, it was complicated even to begin with. Wish me luck with this particular complication!

Sadness would be a terrible topic to write about over the Winter holidays. So, our topic for the February 2004 Drabble column is Romantic Complications. Good ones, bad ones, funny ones...just romantic complications. Can you write and cry (or laugh) at the same time? Submissions are due by January 10. Here are our Guidelines. See you next time.



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E is for... The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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E is for...

Margaret I. Carr

Hype, secrecy and outright scams are some of the problems facing anyone interested in e-publishing.

Enthusiasm is understandable. The idea of electronic publishing is exciting. A little thought and imagination and you have a long list of potential benefits. The problems start when potential is interpreted as actual and not enough research and planning is done to keep the daydreams practical.

One of the most damaging bits of hype is probably the statement that it doesn't cost anything to do an e-book.

Adding an e-version of an already edited and proofread book which is already in an electronic format is much less expensive, for a conventional publisher, than starting from scratch; but even then the cost is quite a bit more than zero. It is not, however, high enough to justify the exorbitant prices some publishers set. Trying to sell an e-book at the same or even higher price than a hardcover book just leads to more negative hype. Pundits solemnly declare the death of e-books, ignoring the profits that reasonably priced e-books garner.

One problem that is particularly annoying, whether you are trying to get together facts for a business plan or are just interested in what goes on behind the website or bricks, is finding the facts. For example, everybody knows what a Best Seller is, right? It is one of those books you find on the rack in your supermarket or drugstore or wherever labeled Best Seller. Okay, pick one of them and tell me how many copies of it sold to qualify it for the label. While you're at it, tell me where you found the information and how reliable you think it is.

If you really want a challenge, try to find out what the standards are for a best selling e-book. I have run across a figure of 5,000 sold mentioned as the key figure, but nothing I have found tells how to verify the figures. Finding out average sales is even harder. For a business plan, the average sales figure for a year needs to be estimated. Estimate wrong and it throws off all of your figures.

What sales you can expect is an important figure in your planning, but it isn't the only figure you will need. Following the path of an e-book through the publishing process, there will be costs involved in Acquisition, Editing, Proofing, Design and format, Promotion and Distribution plus Record keeping. More, and more details as I can find them, on each of these aspects later.



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Recognitions The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Recognitions

Joan McNulty Pulver

Welcome to Recognitions, a column dedicated to proclaim the writing successes of Writers' Village University members!

It is January, a new year and a new beginning for many members of Writers' Village University. Quite a few members participated in the National Novel Writing Month challenge in November. Participants try to write a novel of at least 50,000 words in a month. Among the recipients of the NaNoWriMo Certificate are several members who succeeded in the challenge. They now have brand new novels to edit in this new year of 2004.

Wynelda-Ann Deaver, Wyndie to her friends at WVU, wrote 51,100 words for Witchling (or Dominion's Lament, she is leaning towards the second one), said she cried when she got the confirmation that her word count was accurate. "There is no other recognition, except for a cool little certificate and personal pride. The congrats of dear friends and my family are a great bonus as well."

Joining WVU in 1999, Wyndie belongs to Middle Earth study group and the Guest Chat team. "I could not have written the story that I have without the input of my fellow ME'ers. They have really helped to hone my writing ability, and have helped me to grow and stretch as a writer. Also, having that many comrades in this kind of battle is invaluable."

When asked what she thought about the experience, she answered, "You really learn who is supportive of your writing, God bless them. You also learn a lot about just how much writing time you do have. NEVER AGAIN! Or, at least not until next year."

Rie Sheridan wrote 50,227 words, surpassing the goal of 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo, for Sidhe Move Through the Faire. "Thank God it is over! I'm taking two days off before I start the edit." This is Rie's fourth full-length fantasy (though it will grow in rewrites) and she has several shorter pieces in publication.

"I joined WVU in 2000...I think...and I am not currently in a study group, though I am a Lifetime Member. I took F2K, the free writing course at WVU, twice and started a third time, but life got in the way. WVU has helped considerably. It was a tip from a fellow student that led to my first novel being published, and it has always been a great resource and support system."

Jeff Spock, author of Technophobe, accomplished writing 51,400 words during the NaNoWriMo challenge. "I breathed a huge and unbelievable sigh of relief when I found out I was a certified winner. It had been a long month of early mornings and late nights."

He joined WVU early in 2003 after finishing F2K. "WVU has helped me be more confident in experimenting and taking risks rather than just going with whatever seemed safest and easiest."

Sharon Walker wrote 50,275 words of her novel, A Life to Give, for the NaNoWriMo competition. "I couldn’t stop talking about what I had done. Finally I had to say, 'Enough about me'."

After joining WVU in November 2002, Sharon became a Lifetime Member not long ago. "I knew WVU was where I wanted to be and to stay for a long time. Currently I am not a member of any study group, but I do enjoy reading the posts. I’m sure one day I’ll be in one. I do not know yet what one though. I wouldn’t have been able to do NaNoWriMo without WVU. The facilitators are wonderful and WVU is an organized study site with so much material and interaction between members. Also, WVU helped me keep writing on my mind, which is really important. At the end of November 2003, I was pretty sleepy since there were times I’d be clicking away on the keyboard at 4:00 in the morning."

Sharon is a manager for a mini-storage company, which is perfect for her situation because it gives her time to write. "I’ve not discovered any dead bodies yet, but once I thought there was a lady in one and thought for sure her husband put her there. I have a very vivid imagination. One accomplishment, which I am extremely proud of, is that of teaching my grandchild to read. She turned 3 years in November and reads quite well. Now back to NaNoWriMo...would I do NaNoWriMo again? You bet!"

Sherri Arnold wrote her 50,023-word novel, Matter of Convenience, at the NaNoWriMo competition. "I felt elated when I finally passed the 50,000-word mark. I had fallen behind and it was a mad dash at the end to get it done, but when I got my work validated and the word 'winner' popped up under my name, it was worth it. It has given me new hope in my writing and my ability to get it done. I printed off my certificate and plan to frame it so it can give me encouragement every time I sit down to write."

She has been a member of WVU for about four years. "I have met many people here who have helped me along in my writing. The courses are great and I love being able to take them at my own pace and when I want to. I am not a current member of a study group, but have been a member of the Shadow Land and the Mystery Writers groups. Both were very helpful and encouraging. "Now that I have this draft written, I will be joining a group to help with the rewrite. The input these groups give is invaluable."

Angie Mansfield’s working title for her novel is Kalron .She said that when she found out she NaNoWriMo certified her, she took a deep breath, sat back in her chair, and screamed for a good five minutes. “Then I did a happy dance all the way around the room. I don't think I'm welcome at that restaurant anymore...”

After joining WVU three years ago, Angie drifted around, homeless, for a year or so before finding the now-defunct Binary Bards study group. When that group dried up, the Middle Earth group invited her to join them and has been there ever since. “In three years' time, my writing has undergone such a drastic change that I don't even recognize my older work now. My dialogue has become realistic, my descriptions have improved, and I finally got a short story published! I don't have any 'real life' writing friends to help me with critiques, so my WVU friends have been beyond valuable.”

Gary Frank, who wrote the novel City of Midnight, breathed a sigh of relief and shed a few tears upon realizing he had done something that few people have done, actually wrote over 54,643 words in a single month.

He joined WVU last October after taking F2K and won the short story contest at the end of the course. He is currently in the Shadow Land study group. "WVU made me more conscious of my writing and better capable of editing my work. As well as writing my brains out, I also play guitar and sing.”

Noa Shimoni wrote 53,216 words to her novel, Phoenix Awakens. When she found out she had been certified for passing the 50,000-word mark, "I jumped up and down, danced around the room and yelled so loudly that the neighbors wondered if I had finally lost my mind. Now seriously, after a month of writing every free minute I had, it was very gratifying to see that I indeed managed to write over 50,000 words in a month. However, I would like to point out that my novel is not finished. There are still chapters that need to be written, (I guess most novels are over 50000 words), and, of course, a lot of rewriting and revisions to be done.”

Joining WVU in September 2001 after completing F2K, she became a member of the Middle Earth study group. “Ah, well, there are so many ways I have benefited from WVU. First, there is the study group – wonderful people, all very supportive and good friends who give great, honest feedback. I'm sure my writing wouldn't have evolved and grown without their help. Giving feedback has also taught me to look at my own work with a critical eye to find my own mistakes.”

Noa has also taken several classes and now facilitates two. "I think that I've learned so many things while taking the classes that I find it hard to count them all. But what comes to mind right now is the way the classes I took helped me in my approach to writing in finding my own voice and the things that work for me as a writer on one hand, as well as in learning techniques such as working with an outline, freewriting, and editing my work. Facilitating the classes also gives me a lot of satisfaction. First from seeing how others learn and benefit from the classes, but because I also learn from each person that I encounter. I see different approaches and different ways to look at the same lesson and that always amazes me, but also enriches the way I look at the things I write.”

Marlicia Fernandez said that the novel, Heir Search, which she started in NaNoWriMo, is only about one-third of the way finished even though she wrote 82,841 words. "The plot is firmly in my head and I continue to move toward its completion." She was ecstatic and relieved to find she had indeed written 50,000+ words in a month. "I didn't think I could do it. It made me realize what I was capable of and motivated me continue to write in the future."

Marlicia joined WVU in July 2001 and is one of the original members of the Middle Earth study group. She is also a member of the Fantasy and Science Fiction Writers study group. "WVU has taught me to believe in my writing and myself, helped me to hone my skills and allowed me to learn and practice new ones. It has done all this in a friendly and supportive environment that is like a second home to me. I have had a few small publishing successes, both with poetry and prose, and am currently writing a short op-ed type column for a small but up and coming e-zine. I hope to get other pieces out and published while I finish and polish my works in progress."

Kat Yares wrote a 53,835 word novella, XIII, in 19 days and became certified at NaNoWriMo on the 20th day. "I was tired, elated and brain dead. Since then, I've printed it out and otherwise ignored it. I plan to wait at least a month before I read through it and begin to edit."

She took F2K twice before signing up as a member of WVU and recommends it to everyone. "I've been a member of WVU for approximately 2 1/2 years. I was once the group leader for both Shadow Land and Fade Inn study groups. At this time I'm not an active member of any group. Being a member of WVU has forced me to push myself harder than I might have before. The classes I have taken (even those I never finished) have made me look at my writing in new ways and have provided a foundation for me to learn more.

Living in the backwoods of the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas, there are no 'face to face' writing groups for miles around Kat. "WVU has given me contact with many writers, and their critiques of my work have been very helpful. Through WVU I have made many lasting friendships that have extended to my real world far beyond my online experiences."

Niki Leigh managed to write 54,059 words during the NaNoWriMo challenge. Her novel, Widow's Walk, is a prequel to her first novel. "I am a third of the way through my novel, but I am thrilled to have that much written. There will be many additions, subtractions and revisions, but a majority of the plot is on paper. The remainder of the story is forming and ready to be put on paper."

Niki joined WVU over the July 4th weekend in 2002. She is a participant in the Crime and Punishment study group. Taking F2K shortly after she joined WVU, Niki also recommends it to many writing friends. "WVU has helped me to grow dramatically as a writer. It has given me the opportunity to meet other aspiring writers, and to feel I'm not alone in the quest to write a novel (or two) and to strive to be published. The camaraderie is invaluable. I gave myself a lifetime membership in the winter of 2002 and it is one of the best things I've done for myself."

Her first novel, Stormy View, was proofread at the end of last year; she is now in the position to start submitting it to publishers. "Without WVU and the encouragement, I believe the notes for Stormy View would've stayed in a storage box for another 16 years. Thankfully I took the notes out for a F2K project and dove into the story for NaNoWriMo in 2002."

Sheila Allen put her heart and soul into completing the challenge of NaNoWriMo and succeeded in writing 50,057 words of her novel, The Human Strain. "Upon completion of the 50,000-word goal, I felt an overwhelming amount of personal achievement. This was my first year to participate in NaNoWriMo. Writing a novel has been a goal of mine for some time, and the NaNoWriMo event helped me realize this dream."

"Upon completion and certification of my work by the NaNoWriMo event, my next goal was to continue the work I had started." Because of this, Sheila joined WVU the first week of December 2003. She is a member of the Non-fiction Focus study group. "WVU is a very professional, well-organized program that offers me the support and encouragement I need to keep me moving in the direction of my dreams. The diversity of courses offered allows me to grow as a writer in many ways. I have gained valuable information on writing articles that are worthy of publishing. The feedback I receive from other members of WVU greatly improves not only the quality of my work, but my skills as a writer. Fiction writing is one area that I have enjoyed learning the most at WVU. The courses and student interaction is showing me how to stretch my imagination in ways I never thought possible."

Congratulations, Wyndie, Rie, Jeff, Sharon, Sherri, Angie, Gary, Noa, Marlicia, Kat, Niki, and Sheila. We wish you continued success in all your writing endeavors.

We look forward to reading about your writing accomplishments in this column. If you or someone you know received recognition for writing, please send the information to recognitions@wvu.org.  Let us know!


About the Author
Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, Joan McNulty Pulver moved to Florida about 30 years ago and decided to stay. She has five children (two girls and three boys) and five grandchildren (four boys and one girl). An Administrative Secretary for the State of Florida, she plans to retire in about seven years and then start her real career, writing. Joan hopes to have at least one novel finished and published by that time. She does a little volunteer work here at WVU and enjoys this community of writers. "I have learned so much here and like helping others learn along with me."

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Signs of Life The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

The Out-of-Towners

You learn to find entertainment in unusual places when you live in a small town.

Recently, my youngest son and I had a late lunch at a local fast-food restaurant. I placed my order and the tray of hot food arrived on the counter before the clerk handed me my change.

"Wow, that was fast!" I said.

"Saw ya comin'."

I smiled at the lady behind the counter. It was a scary possibility, I thought, that she knew I was going to say, "With no meat on it," before I even got to the cash register. Life in a small town has its advantages and disadvantages when it comes to familiarity.

We sat down with our food and were quietly eating when the counter people, milling about with no other customers in the dining area, stood up. "Oooh! Out-of-towners! Out-of-towners!" one of them said.

I looked up. Sure enough, there was no mistaking the fact that the folks in the parking lot were travelers. I'm not originally from Mississippi and the moment I open my mouth to speak it becomes apparent; but, I've been around long enough that I probably don't look out of place.

Not so with these folks. They'd parked their van and bullet-style trailer across 4 parking spaces and were slowly stretching cramped legs. They couldn't have looked less like they belonged if they tried.

'So that's what people are thinking when we walk into a small-town fast-food place while traveling', I thought, as I observed their body language. They looked hesitant in a "we're-not-from-these-parts" way. I've always wondered why the locals gazed at us with such fascination. Were we that obvious?

It took at least a good five minutes for the family to unload: Dad, in overalls and a t-shirt, pulled out a baby carrier and set it down on the ground; the top of a little blond head was barely visible. Mom emerged with a toddler on her hip and then two little boys in camouflage pants and a little girl dressed just like her mother, in a skirt and sneakers, bounded around the side of the van. Little bodies leaped up and over the trailer hitch until Mom and Dad were finally ready to head into the fast-food place.

I was playing a guessing game and having a rollicking good time observing while Will chomped away. The skirts and Mom's long ponytail without makeup, males with close-shaven hair, and quantity of children all seemed like pretty good hints. Arkansas, maybe? No, too close. They were definitely country folks; and they'd stretched as if they'd come a great distance. But how far? I watched with amusement as they took an equally lengthy time settling at two tables, then the father strolled to the counter, looked blank and turned around.

"What'a y'all want?" he asked.

Okay, Southern but definitely not the Mississippi drawl, I thought.

I told my 12-year-old that I was wildly guessing they were from Arkansas, although I thought they really had to be from farther away because they were so tired. "My guess, too," he said.

As we emerged into the parking lot, I barely could make out the license plate. It looked like a Florida plate on the car, but I wasn't about to walk around the length of the trailer to find out. I'd peek back as we exited the parking lot, I thought.

With the typical boldness of youth, Will walked directly to the back of the trailer. "Let's see where they came from," he said. I didn't bother attempting to stop him.

"Well?"

"Florida," he said. "I think. Yeah, Florida."

Florida. Huh.

I mulled on the revelation for a moment, reminded of a writer friend who said she grew up in a family of "Florida Crackers." Thinking crackers were defined as unleavened bread, I'd had to look the word up in the dictionary to find that the term was an often-derogatory reference used to describe a subculture within Florida and Georgia. She hadn't used the term in a derogatory sense, though. They were simply her people. Perhaps I'd just gotten a glimpse of her people, a subculture in a parking lot. Maybe. I'll probably never know. All I know is that they'd provided a few moments of engaging entertainment.

Sometimes you really do have to stretch to find entertainment when you live in a small town.



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Writer's Read

Wynelda-Ann Deaver

Author's Note:
Last month I talked about Nanowrimo, the challenge to write a novel during the month of November. I completed the challenge, having written 51,124 words for the month.

Genre

I was home sick today, watching a show on organizing one's life that happens to be filmed in Britain. On the show, the hostess/organizer told the hapless homeowner that it was okay to keep "literature" but not "trashy books."

The woman had mostly "trashy books."

Ruth Rendell was the author whose books were shown, although I'm sure that there were plenty of others that weren't quite up to the literati snob's standards. They were popular fiction, well loved and well read by the condition of their covers.

This offended me. It offended me greatly.

Lest you think this is something that only rears its ugly head across the pond, it is rampant everywhere. While attending University, I often left my romance novels at home. I read my fantasy and science fiction books on breaks, or even the required reading for classes. But never my romance books.

Even publishing powerhouses are not exempt from the fracas. Recently, Stephen King was the recipient of the National Book Distinguished Contribution to American Letters Award for 2003. Some people loudly decried his nomination for the award, others cheered. (Read the transcript of Stephen King's acceptance speech.) I have to admit that it puzzles me a bit why so many were so violently opposed to his winning the award. His popularity and genre have a lot to do with it. The fact that he isn't a "literary" writer, that he writes for the masses instead of the intellectual few, might be a few of the reasons as well.

Here's the thing, though. Not every one can be a Hemingway, or a Faulkner, or even a Stephen King. Each writer has his or her own path that he/she needs to follow. Even should I step onto the same path as you, with say, the same opening sentence, we shall arrive in different places. Interests, the lives we've led, our own hopes and dreams, all will splinter our "same" stories into unique beings. Even though I read romances, most of my work ends up being fantasy, with a little bit of romance thrown in.

I have read the classics, and they are wonderful. Faulkner's descriptions can make me cry, Hemingway is always a fascinating read. I don't necessarily want to read them every day, however. Shakespeare's Henry V is one of my favorites, and the title character's speeches can make the skin on my arms rise with goose-bumps. So can Lynn Flewelling (fantasy), Christina Dodd (Romance), C.S. Friedman (Science Fiction) and countless others.

Don't let an artificial placement affect what you read. Read what you love, and your writing will follow.
 

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Fiction Short Story

by Les Combs

All God's Children

Someday I hope I can afford a better class of transportation. Beggars can't be too choosy, I guess. I rode in a rusted pickup bed on the passenger side. "There ain't enough room in the cab," the skinny old rancher said when he stopped for me ten miles back. I couldn't help noticing there was plenty of room for a saddle in the seat beside him.

In the truck bed opposite me was one of those black-and-gray-mottled Australian cow dogs. Smelled like dead rabbit. Bob-tailed, he was, and standoffish. Every time I shifted position he turned his head toward me and curled an upper lip. What with keeping an eye on the dog and holding my hat on my head, I had my hands full.

I'd hitchhiked my way down from the Oklahoma-Kansas border area after an unfortunate experience with the locals up that way. I needed to find a place to hang my hat for a while, get a job and get back on my feet—financially speaking, that is. Lord knows I'd worn out plenty of shoe leather the last few days. I thought I'd give Texas a try.

The pickup squealed to a stop at a crossroads. "This is far as you go," the rancher informed me. I hopped over the side, not unhappy to part company with that surly dog. The old man turned to the right on a gravel road, a rooster-tail of dust in his wake. A sign pointing the other way read AMICABLE 2. That's the way I went, hoping to find a meal.

A half-hour walk brought me to the outskirts of town. Next to a 20-acre field of portable drilling rigs, racks of drill-stem and steel vats the size of river barges, a fair was in progress. BLIND PETE COUNTY FAIR, the overhead canvas sign read. Behind a multi-colored kiddy merry-go-round I spotted a foot-long hotdog stand. I wasn't used to paying $2 for a hotdog, but they looked filling. Smelled good, too. The man in the booth loaded it up with chopped onion, pickle relish and mustard. I added a line of catsup the length of the bun.

"You want to earn some money?" I'd just taken the first bite when this fella behind me spoke. I turned to be sure he was talking to me. I suppose he could tell from the look of my clothes that I might respond to the mention of money. "My name's Buster Carstairs. I'm the fair manager." He stuck his hand out.

I swallowed, changed hands with the hotdog, licked catsup off my finger and shook with him. "I'm Custis Duckworth. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carstairs."

"I need a judge for one of the fair events." He looked at his watch. "The contest starts in about a half-hour." I guess he noticed me hesitate. "Pays $30," he added.

"Why can't you get somebody local to do it?" I couldn't figure why he'd picked me, a stranger.

Carstairs came up to about my shoulder, round face with sweat running down. He mopped his brow with a dingy handkerchief. "Folks around here don't want the job. Can't pay 'em to do it."

"Why's that, Mr. Carstairs? What kind of a contest is it?"

He chuckled and leaned toward me in a conspiratorial way. "It's a ugly baby contest. We usually try to get a outsider to do the judging." Well, that explained a lot.

A recent divorce had separated me from most of my worldly goods. Shoot, I needed the money, so why not give it a try? "I'll do it, Mr. Carstairs."

I never had much to do with babies. They all demanded a lot of attention without showing much gratitude. A litter of pups had more personality.

Two rows of eight chairs atop a raised platform seated the contestants. With an age limit of one year, each entrant sat on its mother's lap. Some cried, some sucked on bottles, some slept and some just stared goggle-eyed. Mr. Carstairs introduced me then continued. "This year's winner will receive a certificate for $150 worth of merchandise at Grafton's Feed and Grocery. Let the judging begin."

I stepped over and stood in front of contestant #1. What I saw caused my eyes to shut tight, face squeezed up like I'd just drank castor oil. Not the baby—I was looking at its mother. Whew! I'd sure enough earn my money on this job.

I tried to make an honest effort. It wasn't easy because there were several truly unattractive young ones in the group, not to mention the old ones. I finally awarded the certificate to #12, a child who, I kid you not, drew a painfully short straw on looks. I hoped I wasn't expected to kiss the winner.

"Fraud!" a mother yelled. "How much did she pay you?" "It's fixed, it's fixed." The ladies got testier by the minute. Fists were raised, angry threats shouted.

I looked around in a panic for escape. Carstairs stood off to one side of the audience, arms folded over his belly, a smirk across his face. I jumped off the platform and raced toward him. He handed me the $30, like passing a baton in a relay race, as I went past. "Better get out of town, Duckworth," he yelled to my back. The man was laughing at me.

I made it back to the main highway in quick time, out of breath and looking over my shoulder. I held my thumb up to an approaching car. An aging Toyota sedan with a man, a woman and five stair-step kids stopped beside me. "Get in, neighbor," the man invited.

I opened the rear door and looked for a place to sit. "You'll have to hold Grainger on your lap, I expect," the driver offered. "You don't mind, do you?"

I minded a-plenty. "No, I don't mind." I hoisted the two-year-old boy to my lap and felt a lump the size of my fist in his Huggies. I cracked the window to let in fresh air and leaned my head in that direction. Grainger, bless him, groped my face and chin with sticky fingers. I really wished I could afford better transportation.

Copyright © 2004 Les Combs


About the Author
Les Combs is a retiree living in Arkansas. Writing has diminished his fishing time, upsetting the balance of his existence.



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Fiction Short Story

by Joan McNulty Pulver

The Doll

This is going to be an awesome New Year! I finally have a home. I have a little girl who loves me and takes care of me. Let me tell you what happened. It was right after Thanksgiving when everyone was out shopping for Christmas and I was miserable.

****
If I were a real baby I'd be crying. No one seems to want me. I sit on this shelf while the kids all drool over Betsy Wetsy, Barbie and Ken and all the other fancy dolls. I'm just a baby doll. Every once in a while, Mrs. Watson comes into the store and stands here looking at me with a longing in her eyes. I heard Mrs. Watson's husband died in an accident and now she's raising Mary all alone on her salary as a nurse at the hospital in the city. I sometimes wonder, if I were in a city store would someone want to buy me. Oh, look, she’s here. Will she come my way again?

****
"Hello, Mrs. Watson. How are you?" asked Paul. "What can I get for you today?"

"I need some flour, butter… Let me see, I put that list somewhere," she said, smiling broadly. "Oh, here it is."

"I’ll get this and be right back," Paul answered, taking her list.

"I’ll just look around while you’re getting those."

She’s coming this way. Maybe she will buy me this time. I certainly hope so.

"You're such a pretty doll. I just know my Mary would love you. I wish I could afford to buy you. My daughter wants a baby brother or sister. Mary's only four years old and doesn’t understand that I can't do that now. Mary would be happy having a baby doll to care for. She'd pretend you're her sister." Mrs. Watson straightens my dress and smoothes my hair.

She’s talking to me. She really likes me. Mrs. Watson would buy me if she had the money. I wish she could take me home to Mary. I feel so bad for her; she has tears in her eyes. I'm sure any daughter of hers would be a wonderful playmate.

****
Time goes by so slowly now. All the other dolls are gone. It's almost Christmas. The shopkeeper’s wife, Katherine, even took me home, cleaned me up and put a new dress on me, hoping that would help to sell me. It didn’t help though; I'm still sitting on the shelf. Mrs. Watson came in yesterday and walked over to see me. I could see the longing in her blue eyes. Would you believe she even showed me a picture of her daughter? Maybe someday she will be able to afford me. I can only hope.

****
I know it's late because the streetlights have been on for a long time. I can hear the phone ringing but Paul didn’t answer it. He should have closed by now. I wonder what's happening. I see Mrs. Watson out the window. She must have just gotten off the bus. I heard it pass by a few minutes ago. She’s stopping. Maybe she realizes that the store should be closed and will come in to see why it isn’t.

"Paul, are you in here?" Mrs. Watson says loudly as she opens the door.

"Oh, my God, Paul!"

Mrs. Watson's walking over to the counter and picking up the phone. I wonder what's wrong.

"This is Janet Watson. I'm a nurse at the hospital. There's a man down, apparently with a heart attack. We are at the Kinderhook General Store on Main St. in Kinderhook. Send the medivac copter."

She's silent for a moment as though she's listening.

"I told you I’m a nurse. I know how to give CPR. Just get that medivac here right away."

Mrs. Watson hung up the phone and went back to Paul. She's kissing him. Yuk! Now she's pressing on his chest, then kissing him again and then pressing on his chest again. What's that she's doing?

What's that loud noise? There's a big bird out in the street with funny looking wings on top. I know what that is. I heard a little boy call the little red machine on the shelf a copter the other day. Two men are getting out and coming in the store. Mrs. Watson stops kissing Paul and the two men put something funny on his face and move him to a table they brought in.

Katherine ran into the store. "Mrs. Watson, what are you doing here? What happened to my husband?"

"She saved his life with her quick thinking," said one of the men from the medivac.

"Katherine, when I got off the bus, I noticed the lights on. You never keep the store open this late. I decided I had better check and found Paul on the floor. Since I knew about his heart problems, I called the medivac unit to come and administered CPR until they could get here."

"Oh, thank you so much. There could have been a robber or someone else menacing in the store. That was so brave of you," she said, giving Mrs. Watson a hug.

"It was the least I could do, Katherine. You and your husband have always been kind to me. Is there anything else I can do? I don’t have a car, but if you have yours here, I could ride over to the hospital with you."

"No, thank you. I’ll call my son, Larry. He’ll come over and drive me. You need to go home to your little girl. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what happens."

"Please do. I’ll check up on him tomorrow while I’m on duty. I work in the cardiac ward. I’ll be sure to see he's well taken care of."

Now, do you see what I mean about her being such a kind person? I'm sure she will take good care of Paul while he's in the hospital.

What is Larry doing? He's taking me off the shelf and putting me in a box. I wonder if they're going to put me in the storeroom since no one bought me again this year. Katherine's here too. She's putting a turkey and a lot of other food into a box. Now I can’t see. Larry closed my box. I can still hear though. What's that loud noise? I seem to be moving but I can’t see anything outside this box. I wonder if they are going to just take me to the dump. I wish Mrs. Watson had been able to buy me.

We're stopping. Someone's lifting my box and walking with me. I hear a bell and a door opening.

"Hello, Mrs. Watson."

"Hello, Larry, Katherine. Please come in. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh no. You have already done more than anyone could expect. Paul told us how you came to see him whenever your shift allowed. We appreciate all you've done for him. We have something for you."

"Something for me? I don’t need payment for being a good neighbor. Any good Christian would have done the same."

"Please don’t think of this as a payment but as a thank you gift for all you've done. My whole family will be at the hospital on Christmas, with Paul. I won’t have time to cook the turkey I bought. I thought you might make good use of it. It can’t be refrozen and I don’t want it to go to waste," said Katherine, directing Larry to put the box on the table.

"I will take the turkey only if you let me bring some of it to you at the hospital."

"Paul said he has seen you and Mary looking at this doll every time you come into the store. He said she needed a good home and insisted I give her to you for Mary," Katherine said, handing her the box.

"Oh!" she said as she opened it up and saw the doll. "How can I ever thank you?"

****
Christmas day was wonderful. When Mary opened the box and saw me, she shouted out in happiness.

"Mommy, look what Santa brought me! Isn’t she beautiful? She even has some more clothes in the box so I can change her to look pretty."

Later that day, Larry came and picked us up in his car to go to the hospital to visit Paul and his family. We took a whole dinner with us to share with them.

"The aroma from that table is making me hungry, Mrs. Watson," remarked Paul as we entered his room. I'm sure it will be healthy and delicious."

"Please, Paul, call me Nancy. If we are to share a dinner together, I think we should be on a first name basis."

Mary's a good girl; she carries me everywhere she goes. She hugs me and kisses me and takes very good care of me. I even get to sleep in bed with her.

Copyright © 2004 Joan McNulty Pulver


About the Author
Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, Joan McNulty Pulver moved to Florida about 30 years ago and decided to stay. She has five children (two girls and three boys) and five grandchildren (four boys and one girl). An Administrative Secretary for the State of Florida, she plans to retire in about seven years and then start her real career, writing. Joan hopes to have at least one novel finished and published by that time. She does a little volunteer work here at WVU and enjoys this community of writers. "I have learned so much here and like helping others learn along with me."



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Fiction Short Story

by George F. Kloda

Like It Used to Be

He stood across the street gaping at the size and scale of the enormous, bowl-shaped State office building that occupied both sides of most of a city block. There used to be a restaurant and nightclub on the corner, with chasing-light signs reflecting crazily in the surrounding store windows, and the sounds of upbeat tempos of now-forgotten local jazz groups. The foreground was dark and silent except for the mercury-vapor streetlight on the corner, a random assortment of lights from a few offices, and the subway noise at regular intervals from beneath the sidewalk grates.

It was yet another thing not like it used to be.

He'd returned to his home town to revisit old memories and try to assemble them into a cohesive unit worth describing on paper, but the neighborhoods of his youth and haunts of his young adulthood had morphed into things totally unexpected. The bicycle paths along the lakefront, where he spent three summers riding with assorted casual girlfriends ("summer throwaways," one of his two best friends called them) were no longer meticulously maintained by the parks department. Though still in use, they were frost-heaved, and populated by empty-eyed, stoned-out skateboarders and homeless souls shuffling aimlessly or slowly rolling their shopping carts from one end of the park to another in search of the right clump of bushes or viaduct to use as shelter.

The neighborhood swimming pool, once filled with laughing, splashing children warding off oppressive summer heat and humidity in the cool, blue water, stood empty, its concrete walls cracked, weeds sprouting everywhere.

He drove over to the East Side searching for familiar landmarks, only to find block after block of boarded-up or burned-out buildings, check cashing joints and gyro stands. As he negotiated a wide, sweeping left curve in his rented auto to exit the park, he craned his neck to see the facade of the hospital where he spent his residency years. To his horror, a pile of rubble occupied the spot where he had trained so many years ago, with an enormous sign warning passersby: Danger! Demolition zone! Enter at your own risk!

As he brought the car to a complete stop, his eyes filled with tears as he realized he was all was alone in the place of his birth, friends scattered and rarely in touch, family all gone. Why oh why had he made this trip?

Suddenly, as elusive as smoke, he heard faint snatches of music—harmonica blues. With a faint smile on his face, he slowly got out of the car and surveyed the scene around him, and to his amazement recognized the ancient black man seated in a apartment building doorway just beyond the rubble pile. As he had every Saturday morning thirty-odd years ago, the slouch-hatted, wrinkled musician played his heart out for anyone who would listen then drop a coin or buck or two in his can. And, as years ago, he sat and played with a live chicken perched atop his hat.

Finally, one thing just like it used to be.

Copyright © 2004 George F. Kloda


About the Author
George Kloda is a community pharmacist in Eliot, Maine, pop. about 6000. Much of his writings have been inspired by the foibles of his pharmacy patrons over his 33-year professional life. Like It Used to Be derived from an extended hometown visit several years ago.



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Fiction Short Story

by John M. Floyd

Stopover

"So this is Washington," the commander said.

He and two of his officers stood in the shadow of the starship, looking out at the countryside.

The chief engineer cleared his throat. "We made good time, sir. The new vapor drives—"

"Could our headings have been wrong?" the commander asked.

That question was for the navigator, who blinked. "The headings were given us by Mission Control, sir."

"Check them anyway." The commander continued to study their surroundings. Spread out below them were rolling meadows, lakes, thick stands of trees. Wildflowers blazed with color; an animal of some kind howled in the distance. Two large birds dipped and swooped overhead, riding the thermals. The sky was as blue as the rocks in the commander's garden, back home.

"This doesn't look like Washington to me," he added.

The other two officers exchanged glances. "No disrespect, sir," the engineer said, "but how would we know what Washington looks like?"

The commander took a moment before answering. "We can see a long way from here," he said finally, "and I don't see one single Earth person, anywhere."

The others made no reply.

"We were told this was the seat of power—the epicenter of government—for the most advanced nation on the planet. I'm beginning to think we were misinformed." He sighed, then turned to his chief engineer. "Since we're here, set up the lab equipment and get what you can. And log the date and time."

"We already have. It's the third nelm of the Ismath, to us. In Earth terms, that's..." The engineer checked his notes. "...the year 1980."

"Proceed, then." To the navigator, the commander said, "Remember to verify the headings. And the location."

As the navigator hurried away, one of the weapons specialists—a young lieutenant—appeared. He looked out of breath.

"Sir, there's a problem on the ship," he blurted.

The commander regarded him a moment. "What kind of problem?"

"It's the Nova device, the one we're delivering to J-20," the specialist said. "Xantar was showing it to the trainees, trying to display the settings."

"And?"

"And he activated the timer by mistake. It's armed."

The commander sighed. "Ah, yes. Xantar." He suddenly looked tired. "I don't suppose he assisted with navigation this trip, did he?"

"Sir?"

"Never mind. What is your assessment, Lieutenant?"

The specialist swallowed. "My assessment," he said, "is that it will detonate within an Earth hour. The countdown can't be stopped. We must get it off the ship immediately."

"And put it where?"

"Put it anywhere." The specialist glanced around wildly. "We have to unload it now, and leave at once."

The commander looked thoughtful. "Our orders are clear: observe and gather data. We are not to disturb anything. Take nothing, leave nothing."

The engineer raised his chin and announced, "The commander's right. We can't..."

"What we can't do," the specialist said, his voice shaking, "is let that device explode anywhere near us or the ship. It's a prototype, we don't even know its damage radius." He added, more quietly, "We have to get rid of it, sir. And now."

The commander pondered that for several seconds, then nodded. "Very well. See to it." To the engineer he said, "Get us ready for takeoff."

That was not unwelcome news. Within minutes the cause of the commotion—a five-foot cylinder that gleamed like polished brass in the sunlight—ad been lowered carefully to the ground. The nervous crew disengaged the hoist, gathered their gear, and scrambled aboard. Liftoff was smooth and uneventful.

Moments later the commander stood on the bridge of the starship, watching the unfamiliar planet grow smaller in the aft window. Finally he said, to the weapons specialist, "Are you sure it will detonate?"

"It is designed to, yes."

"But are you sure?"

"No," the specialist replied. "As I said, it is untested."

"Good." The commander kept his eyes on the receding Earth. "Maybe it'll just sit there forever, undiscovered and harmless."

After a silence the navigator approached, holding a handset with a map displayed on its screen. "You asked about our position, sir?"

The commander looked at him and waited.

"It was Washington, all right. The southwest corner." The navigator pointed to the map. "A place called Mount St. Helens."

Copyright © 2004 John M. Floyd



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Poetics

Glennis Hobbs

How to Survive a Poetry Reading

You’ve toiled, sweated, submitted, revised and finally become the author of a published book of poetry. Reaching this goal is wonderful, but all of a sudden a terrifying thought strikes you: “Will I have to give a public reading?” Panic immediately sets in and you want to run away and hide.

Don’t worry. You won’t be the first poet to have a panic attack at the thought of giving a public reading and you won’t be the last one.

A Toastmasters publication, Teaching People to Talk Turkey Without Turning Chicken, says that according to a survey in the Book of Lists, most people would rather die than give a speech, and that fear of public speaking outranks fear of death by a two to one margin.

Well, here are a few tips to help you survive that initial poetry reading.

The first step is to plan, plan, plan.

Once you’ve settled on a date for your reading, check out the place where the reading will take place. Talk to your sponsor and ask for his or her suggestions. Inspect the physical layout carefully.

Where will the reading take place? In a large hall, a small intimate space?

What is the lighting like? Will you have to wear sunglasses to reduce the fluorescent glare or will it be so dim that you’ll be reading by flashlight?

What are the acoustics like? Can you be heard clearly in the back row or will you have to shout? Is there an echo off the walls? Will there be a microphone?

Will you have a podium on which to place your book? This will give you something to lean on. Will you be seated at a table? If this is the case, then when your legs refuse to support you, you’ll have something to sit on and stop you from collapsing.

Ask questions about the intended audience. Will it be adults or children?

Now comes time to plan your reading. With your audience in mind, pick appropriate material. If your audience is mostly children, this is not a good time to read that erotic poem. The Senior Ladies Afternoon Church group may not appreciate a performance that has a lot of swear words in it. It is best to pick a variety of poems.

Practice, practice. Be familiar with your poems.

Modulate your voice. You don’t want to speak so quickly that your words sounds like bullets being sprayed with a machine gun. Conversely, you don’t want to speak so slowly and in a monotone voice that your audience will follow asleep.

Tape yourself and then listen to the playback. If at all possible, try videotaping yourself or get a friend to tape you.

Watch yourself in a mirror as you read aloud. Do you have any annoying mannerisms such as twisting your hair, wringing your hands, biting your nails? How many times did you say 'uh' or 'y’know'? Did you chew gum while you were reading?

Practice deep breathing and try to relax.

Consider writing a script on 3 x 5 cards and make a few notes.

Finally the day of the reading arrives.

Hopefully you have decided ahead of time what image you want to project. Check your appearance in a full length mirror before you leave your home or hotel. Now is not the time to wear the jeans that may split if you bend, the tight miniskirt that rides up or the bracelets that will distract your audience when they jangle.

Arrive early and make sure that the setup is the way you want it. If it isn’t, don’t act like a prima donna, but be courteous and request that changes be made if possible.

When you are introduced, smile. Greet your audience in a friendly manner and don’t apologize for the quality of your work.

Take a deep breath and relax. Introduce your poem, but keep your comments short. You might indicate how the poem came about or give brief background material on the poem.

For example, with my poem, City on the Rocks, I gave this introduction to the poem.

“From the far side of the Boardwalk and looking across the lake, I saw that the houses resembled tiny dollhouses sitting on the rocks," and this led to the poem:

City on the Rocks

dollhouse homes
of the city
cling to the granite surface of
PreCambrian rocks

Another poem was written about a place called Phantom Lake. This was my introduction:

“There are many different versions of how Phantom Lake got its name. One concerns a phantom source of water. Another concerns the way the lake looks as one flies across it in a plane. Another version tells the story of a lost love. This is my version of the legend:”

PHANTOM LAKE

white mist at dawn
conceals the teal waters
of the lake

Give just enough information to tantalize the reader. Don’t get off onto a side tangent about your life history and what happened in 1992.

Make eye contact with your audience and try to look at everyone. Don’t stare at the ceiling or keep your head down concentrating on the written page.

Project your voice to the back row. Modulate your voice.

Limit your reading to about 20-30 minutes. If your audience asks for an encore, keep it brief. It’s better to leave your audience wanting more than have them sneak out.

Be sure to thank them for coming and also thank your host for his or her help. Give credit where credit is due.

If the press is there, be courteous and smile for your picture.

When people buy your book, write legibly and try to write personal inscriptions. If you don’t know how to spell a name, ask.

May your poetry reading be successful and the first of many.
 


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

Poetics Presents The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

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Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
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Poetics Presents

Judith Kelly Quaempts

Judith Kelly Quaempts, born in Oregon, lived on military bases until she turned eighteen, married at nineteen and raised four children. She has been a teletypist, police matron, a medical secretary and an executive assistant. She began writing about five years ago and says that what she’s learned about writing so far is that she’ll never learn enough but the journey is filled with discovery.  T-Zero is pleased to announce that this is the first time that Judith’s poems have appeared in print.

Passage
Poem #1

I park my car beside a leaning fence
and walk through the woods to this rise
above the river where our sweathouse stood.
Gone now, dismantled when he died.

The frame he built of alder boughs,
blankets, burlap, all burned in one last fire,
the rock pit filled. A rusted dipper
hangs from an alder branch like an epitaph.
The pond steps washed downriver seasons ago.

Once, we crawled on hands and knees
into a warm and humid darkness.
He counted in Indian when he poured -
our sweat rose, then ran
in rivulets down our bodies.
Even our breath grew hot.
Sometimes we talked, more often not.
We seldom needed words.

We rinsed in a pond dammed from the river.
Back and forth we went,
until the rocks grew cold
and our bodies glowed
like embers in the dying fire.

I scrabble down the rocky bank to the river.
Stripping, I feel my way along its moss-slick bottom.
Gray-green water embraces me like a long lost friend.
How blue the sky is.

Copyright © 2004 by Judith Kelly Quaempts



Tiichum Na´shat
Poem #2

He lies in the Indian Cemetery
a stone's throw away from the land-fill
where dogs gone wild
race across the dusty ground.

He faces east, toward home, his mound
littered with small treasures left by friends -
an elk figurine, a plastic Christmas tree,
paint brushes in a jar. His grave is marked
by a rock his sons found on the road.
He chose the spot before he died.
Good company here, he'd said.

Na´shat was his name.
It means sound-before-rain,
crack of thunder after lightning.
He belonged to the Blue Shadow Clan
up on Black Mountain and always said
he'd go home someday.

Copyright © 2004 by Judith Kelly Quaempts



T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine
http://TheWritersEzine.com
Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved
Submissions Guidelines The Writers' Ezine - T-Zero Xpandizine

The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

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
http://TheWritersEzine.com
Copyright 1998 - 2007, Writopia Inc. All Rights Reserved

 

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