Memoirous

Remember when you were a kid and you got junk mail. Real mail, through the slot or in the mailbox? Your mom got it and turned it over or not even that—and threw it out. Today that same mom is the prime target for “fake” internet news. PBS Newshour is doing a series titled Junk Mail. One, I like this title as opposed to fake news as that terminology has gotten corrupted. The anology of junk mail rings true with my generation (plus). We all can relate to those annoying adverts, credit cards we didn’t order, appeals for funds. We weren’t fooled. Not so today. A young IT guy has developed for PBS a Junk News Tracker . Cameron Hickey did not have to look far for a person to base his research upon: he turned to 86-year old grandmother. This lady is total click bait, a sucker for everything coming down the drain. A self-proclaimed conservative Christian from Ohio. “To understand the scale and shape of a problem that was incredibly opaque, we began intensive research

So yesterday I bought a ticket to Ann Frank’s house, making an upcoming trip seem all the more real. This year I will be turning 60. Some establishments are already giving me a senior discount. This is a good and sobering thing. It means I am getting closer to the abyss. A friend who has been in Florida for 4 months doing parent care put it succinctly: You can easily imagine a death conveyor belt—and we are on it. Of course we are from the day we are born, but it only becomes more real the older you get. A big reason to start in on that bucket list. So yesterday I bought a ticket to Ann Frank’s house. Actually it started with purchasing an airline ticket to Amsterdam, leaving Chicago June 5. I will take my bicycle with me, and God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll end up in Stavanger, Norway where I have another ticket. All together I will be gone 40 days. The online research is the easy part—executing the plan is freaking me out. More so now that I have commi

I was beginning to wonder if it was just me—being lazy, depressed by winter. Perhaps a bit of both. But, no, the records confirm it. This has been the coldest April in Chicago in 137 years. When I left for Grand Rapids a week and a half ago for my writer’s conference, I had the idea of riding my bike back. This is not too unrealistic as I’ve done it about 3 times already. I say about as the first time I didn’t quite make it. Around New Buffalo, MI I retired to my tent for the night. I slept soundly as the woods were super quiet. In the morning when I unzipped my tent I was astounded to discover a world of white. During the night it had snowed about 3 inches. My husband phoned me and asked if I was alive—it had gotten down to 23 degrees. I had no idea as I was snug and cozy in my sleeping bag with a fleece liner. But once I got on the road it was clear that the roads were icy and the wind off the lake felt even colder. So in Michigan City (Indiana) I called and asked him

Which is why I’m intrigued by stories of mystery and faith. That crux where one must rest despite ambiguity. Which is why I suspect the Norwegians say there is no such thing as bad weather but bad clothes (gear). Readers of this blog, particularly of my posts pertaining to cycling, know I have issues with claims of waterproof. Waterproof for me has ended up being a misnomer. I am a waterproof skeptic. So for my aborted ride home from Grand Rapids this past weekend I seriously looked at and came to the conclusion that I needed something at least a bit more water resistant that what I’d brought. Let’s face it: most of my performance gear has been collected off the ground from runners waiting at the start for the Chicago Marathon—something I last did five years ago. All that ended with the Boston Marathon bombing. Now you need a Presidential invitation to get within a half mile of the start and finish line. Riding the 2.5 miles from my host’s house to the campus of Calv

This pretty much sums up my aspirations to cycle home from Grand Rapids starting Sunday – Wednesday in mid-APRIL. Yes, I know spring can be iffy, that April showers bring May flowers, that one day it can be sun and the next cold. But certainly not ARTIC. I experienced a range of weather that would baffle and frustrate even Shakleton. My plan was to drive in a van with my friend to the Festival of Faith & Writing in Grand Rapids and then cycle back to Chicago. I’ve done this trip before. In brilliant sunshine and unseasonable warmth, and in rain and a douse of snow. And also in what might be described as “normal” conditions. What happened this past weekend defies anything close to what I’m used to. I’ve never had to cancel a bike trip, though there were times I should have. I ended up cancelling. 1) Wind, there were tree branches scattered everywhere after a night of high-winds that continued into the day and part of the next. 2) Rain. I commuted 2.5 miles to

Check out the tab=Places to Submit I've tidied it up and tried to eradicate dropped links, defunct publications etc Here's a new one: Glassworks Seeks Flash Fiction, Prose Poetry, and Micro Essays Deadline: Rolling Glassworks Magazine  seeks flash fiction, prose poetry, and micro essays for publication in Flash Glass, our online feature. In glassworking, "flashed glass" is a specific technique by which color is not simply added, but is created by layering, opening almost unlimited possibilities of variation. The glass allows light to shine through but prevents inquisitive eyes from invading people's privacy. Send us your written work that does the same! All work published online in Flash Glass is included in a print anthology at the end of the year. Submit up to three shorts under 500 word. Guidelines and submit at www.rowanglassworks.org . Brilliant Submissions Wanted Deadline: Rolling Submissions wanted: 1,000 words or less. We a

I’m off for a week at a conference in Grand Rapids called the Festival of Faith & Writing. This is my thing. I never knew how much I looked forward to FFW, but now it is a part of my spring ritual. (Actually it’s held every 2 years.) FFW to me are crocuses springing forth, the green blade arising. In the dead of cold, dark winter I begin to read the authors invited to the festival. I make itineraries and mock schedules. I reserve a car, I request a bed with a couchsurfing host. I’m so ready for next week. So ready for warmth, conversation about books, crossing the quad and seeing some of the same faces I’ve come to recognize. This is a time of renewal. Then I plan to cycle back from Grand Rapids. This is where things get tricky. The weather has been very unpredictable. Well, it’s spring you say. Yes, when you wake up to snow almost every morning this week, you begin to question the calendar. So good wishes, thoughts, light, vibes=send them my way as I ride

Readers of this blog know that I am addicted to Antiques Roadshow. I watch mostly for the description. Crenulated. Wingback. Bezel. That thing on the top of cabinet clocks. When is an object more than just a thing—when you hear one of the Keno brothers go into detail about it. You come to understand it is the sum of the parts, the work invested, the craftsmanship. One of the appraisers was evaluating a book of police mugshots from Portland, Oregon circa 1900s. The term she used to describe it was vernacular, as in vernacular photos have become very popular. Here’s how Daile Kaplan defined the term: The photography of the everyday, the photography that's a record, that's a document, that has a historic truth. This is also how I might define flash memoir. This is not the letter from Abraham Lincoln or the guy who found the Rembrandt in the trash. This is more like the story behind the toy train. I got it for Christmas one year and it’s been in our family ever

So what’s been happening? Well, there have been the edits on my new book coming out this fall. That was scary—until I finally opened the file and realized it wasn’t a deep hole. In fact, it was WAY easier than I thought it would be. I’ve actually been putting a lot of things off, thinking they might overwhelm me. I try to reason with myself. Overwhelming is not death. It isn’t forever. It’s scary, yes, but it shouldn’t be paralyzing. But it is/can be. Which is why I’m going to confess: I’ve been somewhat writer’s blocked. Of course, it might not seem like it with over a dozen publishing credits in the last year and the book contract. But most of this was previously generated material. The newest bits were also flashes, some as small as 50 words. It seemed I couldn’t get started. More than that my confidence level has been nil. Again all this seems the opposite of what one would be experiencing especially after what must be objectively considered a “good” ye

Enter today! Win big by killing it! https://themolotovcocktail.com/killer-flash/ The top three entries will win cold, hard cash. $200 for Killer Flash winner $100 for 2nd place $50 for 3rd place We also give mad props to 4th-10th place, publishing them in our Killer Flash mega-issue and in a future print anthology, Follow these guidelines, and you could have some extra coin in your pocket, and some bragging rights as the Killer Flash winner. – All submissions must absolutely be under 1,000 words, and we tend to look more kindly on 750 or fewer $7 to enter contest this is a KILLER FLASH contest, so something’s gotta die. But again, this can be in any form imaginable.

Hey! my kid (yeah, she's not really a kid, but she's my kid) has a story in a new anthology: Bright Bones--writings about Montana. Order a copy today for $20, because in May the cost goes up to $25 https://squareup.com/store/open-country-press/item/bright-bones-contemporary-montana-writing Super proud.