Some more great stuff to read

New works were posted this week at Readers and Writers Blog.

* To Remember and To Forget, by Luke Darbyshire, tells the “tale of Bobby, a rather idiosyncratic young man, and how he deals with his father’s death, his mother’s toiletries, his friend Jim and their mutual love, Anna, has qualities of the dark poetry of Joyce, the mystery of Chandler and even that dystopian craziness found in the best-known work of Anthony Burgess.”

* Hugh Yonn’s Me and the Good Ol’ IRS. “If you’ve read Yonn’s first two contributions to us, you’ll guess there’s a certain amount of irony in his latest work.”

Check ’em out!

New works

Mr. Sid Leavitt’s temporary break from posting at Readers and Writers Blog was more temporary than he anticipated. He’s posted two new entries in the past two weeks complete with new works, including some poetry from a buddy of mine, Joel Phipps. He also managed to sneak in a reference to Spongebob Squarepants (my second favorite current television show, right after “The Office”).

Check it out.

New works

Mr. Sid Leavitt’s temporary break from posting at Readers and Writers Blog was more temporary than he anticipated. He’s posted two new entries in the past two weeks complete with new works, including some poetry from a buddy of mine, Joel Phipps. He also managed to sneak in a reference to Spongebob Squarepants (my second favorite current television show, right after “The Office”).

Check it out.

New Works at Readers & Writers Blog

Yesterday marked the last regular new entry for awhile at Sid Leavitt’s Readers and Writers Blog (although he will be “filing an entry every now and then.”) New works posted in that entry include:

* The remaining nine chapters of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow.

* A poem, And Don’t Ya Know, by Laura Elliot.

* A complete rewrite of J. Cafesin’s Disconnected.

All excellent stuff there, so check ’em out! The link to R&W Blog will remain in my blogroll. If you’re ever looking for something good to read, don’t forget to check Sid’s archived works. You won’t be sorry.

New Works at Readers & Writers Blog

Yesterday marked the last regular new entry for awhile at Sid Leavitt’s Readers and Writers Blog (although he will be “filing an entry every now and then.”) New works posted in that entry include:

* The remaining nine chapters of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow.

* A poem, And Don’t Ya Know, by Laura Elliot.

* A complete rewrite of J. Cafesin’s Disconnected.

All excellent stuff there, so check ’em out! The link to R&W Blog will remain in my blogroll. If you’re ever looking for something good to read, don’t forget to check Sid’s archived works. You won’t be sorry.

All good things must come to an end

I’m not talking about the heartbreaking loss of my beloved Red Sox to the team-that-shall-not-be-named, nor to the horrifying possiblity that Mr. Jason Varitek–now officially a free agent–may not be back with the Sox next year (please, please please sign the man, Theo).

No, I’m talking about Waiting For Spring‘s serialization at Sid Leavitt’s Readers and Writers Blog. That’s right…the final two chapters were posted there yesterday.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude to Sid for giving Waiting For Spring such a fine home alongside so many amazing books, short stories, and poems. He announced yesterday that he’s taking a temporary break from posting new entries after next week, but the site will remain up, along with “The Works” library. (Check it out: Non Fiction, Fiction, Poetry.) Waiting For Spring will remain there as well should you wish to read it.

In the meantime, also posted this week: chapters 18 and 19 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow.

All good things must come to an end

I’m not talking about the heartbreaking loss of my beloved Red Sox to the team-that-shall-not-be-named, nor to the horrifying possiblity that Mr. Jason Varitek–now officially a free agent–may not be back with the Sox next year (please, please please sign the man, Theo).

No, I’m talking about Waiting For Spring‘s serialization at Sid Leavitt’s Readers and Writers Blog. That’s right…the final two chapters were posted there yesterday.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude to Sid for giving Waiting For Spring such a fine home alongside so many amazing books, short stories, and poems. He announced yesterday that he’s taking a temporary break from posting new entries after next week, but the site will remain up, along with “The Works” library. (Check it out: Non Fiction, Fiction, Poetry.) Waiting For Spring will remain there as well should you wish to read it.

In the meantime, also posted this week: chapters 18 and 19 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow.

Changes and Reflections


You may (or possibly may not) have noticed that my posting has been rather spotty here over the past month or so. One of the reasons for that is a lack of sleep due to my work schedule (I’ve been averaging about 2-3 hours a day on work days), and the resulting Slush Puppy Brain that results. Starting this weekend that will change. I’ll be working 2nd shift on weekends instead of 3rd shift during the week. In addition to the benefits that come with actually sleeping at night, it should mean a drastic increase in posts here (and comments on my buddy’s blogs). And–fear not!–even though customers typically wear their pants on 2nd shift, I should still see enough weirdness to keep this blog interesting.

In other news, I survived another week at Idol For Writers. This is my take on the assigned topic, Reflections:

~~~~~

An eight-year-old boy saunters down the street, smiling proudly, armed with a powerful new weapon, a gift from his father the evening before.

He slips open the schoolyard gate and surveys the crowd with his sharp, green eyes, so like his daddy’s: Girls skipping rope; boys shooting hoops; teachers chatting amongst themselves, tired and bored. And, sitting by himself, leaning against a solitary tree, reading a book, is his target.

He makes his way over, fists stuffed tightly into his pockets, twitching to keep the grin off his face until just the right moment. He comes to a stop directly in front a pair of white, spotless shoes, rolling the weapon around his tongue, savoring the jagged consonants and tangy vowels. His father’s voice echoes in his ears as he lets loose his grin, pulls the trigger, and fires the word directly into his target’s fragile, tender heart:

“Faggot!”

~~~~~

In other writing news, Chapters 40 and 41 of Waiting For Spring were posted at Readers and Writers Blog on Sunday. Tess is starting to heal…finally. Also new at R&W Blog is Chapters 16 and 17 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow. And Mr. Sid Leavitt has posted an excerpt of his very excellent book, Adrift in America. I’ve blogged about how much I enjoyed reading it before, and I’d like to recommend it to y’all again.

Changes and Reflections


You may (or possibly may not) have noticed that my posting has been rather spotty here over the past month or so. One of the reasons for that is a lack of sleep due to my work schedule (I’ve been averaging about 2-3 hours a day on work days), and the resulting Slush Puppy Brain that results. Starting this weekend that will change. I’ll be working 2nd shift on weekends instead of 3rd shift during the week. In addition to the benefits that come with actually sleeping at night, it should mean a drastic increase in posts here (and comments on my buddy’s blogs). And–fear not!–even though customers typically wear their pants on 2nd shift, I should still see enough weirdness to keep this blog interesting.

In other news, I survived another week at Idol For Writers. This is my take on the assigned topic, Reflections:

~~~~~

An eight-year-old boy saunters down the street, smiling proudly, armed with a powerful new weapon, a gift from his father the evening before.

He slips open the schoolyard gate and surveys the crowd with his sharp, green eyes, so like his daddy’s: Girls skipping rope; boys shooting hoops; teachers chatting amongst themselves, tired and bored. And, sitting by himself, leaning against a solitary tree, reading a book, is his target.

He makes his way over, fists stuffed tightly into his pockets, twitching to keep the grin off his face until just the right moment. He comes to a stop directly in front a pair of white, spotless shoes, rolling the weapon around his tongue, savoring the jagged consonants and tangy vowels. His father’s voice echoes in his ears as he lets loose his grin, pulls the trigger, and fires the word directly into his target’s fragile, tender heart:

“Faggot!”

~~~~~

In other writing news, Chapters 40 and 41 of Waiting For Spring were posted at Readers and Writers Blog on Sunday. Tess is starting to heal…finally. Also new at R&W Blog is Chapters 16 and 17 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow. And Mr. Sid Leavitt has posted an excerpt of his very excellent book, Adrift in America. I’ve blogged about how much I enjoyed reading it before, and I’d like to recommend it to y’all again.

I am not Tess Dyer

I know it’s not uncommon for a first novel to be at least semi-autobiographical, and judging by the sympathetic tone of some of the emails I’ve been getting lately, it seems that a lot of you think that’s the case with Waiting For Spring. Thankfully, I can say that it isn’t. Tess and I share some similarities: eye color, short stature, a tendency towards being a smart ass. We’re both avid Red Sox fans and both live in Small Town, Maine. I used my own ‘voice’–so to speak–for the narration. (Tackling the task of writing a first novel was much less daunting that way.) But the actual events of her life were in no way taken from mine. I sat down to write WFS over two-and-a-half-years ago with absolutely no plot in mind. I had no specific axes to grind, no confessions to make, no burdens with anyone’s name stamped in big, block letters to set down. Just thirty-five-and-a-half years of being a human being to sort through and a certainty that I had the talent to make something out of it.

I had been abandoned by someone who should have stayed around, then given the Someone who took his place a ration and a half of shit. Groaned about the minor imperfections of my mother, only to count my blessings when confronted with the gross imperfections of the mothers of some of my friends. I had loved and lost, then loved again. Shed tears with friends as they struggled with the heartbreak that comes when a mate has been unfaithful, and later thanked God out loud that it wasn’t me. Watched other friends who were too young being buried in the cold, hard ground.

I had known what it was like to wonder where my next meal was coming from when my husband lost his job, making due for weeks with mac & cheese and tunafish, grateful that there was such a thing as government aid to help us through the roughest spots; then grumbled as I watched people who’d never worked a day in their lives buying lobster with their food stamps. I had trusted people who didn’t deserve it, and turned my back on people who did. I found out what it’s like to not tell someone “I love you” in time, then vow to never make that mistake again; knowing full well that I probably will. I found out, too, that forgiveness works both ways.

There was a summer when it seemed everyone I knew who wasn’t in rehab should’ve been. An autumn when my brother was so sick that I prayed for God to take him away, to end his suffering; only to thank Him profusely as I watched my brother walk out of the hospital a week later. Moments when I looked at the ungrateful faces of the children I’d fought Nature to conceive and wondered why the hell I’d bothered; only to be followed by moments I couldn’t remember what life had been like before it had been blessed with their laughter. Dark times–even the happiest couples have them–when I had imagined what life would be like if I was on my own, single and carefree again; only to have those empty images blow away like ash when I heard the sound of my name in his voice…

So, although I can say that the novel is not factually autobiographical, I will admit that it is, perhaps, emotionally autobiographical. Still…I am not Tess Dyer.