Memoirous

Maybe a year ago while out running in the neighborhood, I saw a bus letting students off and a young boy juggling a back pack and instrument case. I kept running. But something stayed with me. I wrote a piece from the perspective of voice messages. I wasn’t sure if it worked and forgot about it, until . . . I was running again in that same neighborhood and remembered the bus and kid and that short piece. I revisited it and made a few changes—none of which my critique group liked. Without reading the first draft they nixed the stuff I added (I thought for clarity). I sent it off in April and right away ArLiJo, Arlington Literary Journal took the piece. Out now! https://www.arlijo.com/post/issue-223#viewer-onb7d1146 Located in Arlington, Virginia, the intent of  ArLiJo  is to feature a variety of authors/poets/artists from around the globe whose work provokes readers to contemplate issues, etc. Having said that,  ArLiJo  like Gival Press looks for work th...

Intervals (description below*) put out a call for work reflecting places no longer there. Not abandoned, but lost now to time. Erasure. * Intervals  is an experiment in call and response—between prompt and reply, between  Pictura  and its contributors. Each exchange becomes part of a continuing conversation, carried on in the spaces between our regular issues. Hidden Valley Ranch is an example of something tucked away in my writing portfolio, a flash memory/vignette of family vacations to central Kentucky to Hidden Valley Resort. The word resort here used very broadly to mean a family-owned and operated seasonal tourist “destination” featuring a swimming pool, barn dances, outdoor game area, and guided horse rides. I thought I was the only one, but when I first wrote about Hidden Valley and posted it on my blog over 12 years ago, I was surprised at the number of responses from readers Googling and finding my memoir post. These folks also remembered Hidden Valley and ...

New Work Out: Centerpoint Actually this piece has BEEN out. I just didn’t know it. Someone at work was asking about my new book, Woman of a Certain Age, a story collection, and I said let me show you my website. I googled my name and up popped the piece, published online in Third Wednesday. Okay, that’s a surprise. I’d submitted it in November and it was taken soon after. I just had gotten so busy with holiday rush that I hadn’t checked my Submittable dashboard to see it had been accepted. Sheesh. Anyway, I’m linking to it now and will soon get it up under Other Writing. A pleasant surprise and acknowledgement that 2025 had truly been a fruitful year. Now as I take time to think ahead to 2026: I have a lot of work to do to raise to the level of 12 ACCEPTANCES IN ONE YEAR!! I have to start cracking on writing new stuff and submitting. Maybe time for another collection . . . hmm. Keep tuned—book launch for Woman of a Certain Age to be announced.

A creative nonfiction piece, commonly called The Essay—is out now! About a trip I took in 2007 to Albania, I know, no one goes to Albania. Albania is a weird mix of contradictions=cultural progress meets social mores, modernity butts up against resistance to change, hundreds of years of political upheaval. Versus. Versus. Turning towards. Against. Read No One Goes to Albania here :

 A piece that was accepted ages ago and is out now. Hoot Literary Review is a postcard, Sea of Lingerie is their November postcard , which you can order--this from their website: The idea is: -to have stories and poems on a postcard, so that they can be displayed and shared easily. Stick it on the fridge! Tuck it in your husband’s/wife’s briefcase or nephew’s book bag! -for people to have a literary magazine that they can both afford to subscribe to and have time to read. Never again will you be able to claim that you don’t have time to read current literature! Each post card will have fewer than two “Tweets.” Except it’s not digital! The idea is: -to have a literary magazine that is excellent in a pure way. artwork by Janet Cameron –want to read more?  Well, you can check out  HOOT  online — which is equally good work, but without the postcard…because let’s face it, we can’t avoid digitalness completely. HOOT online follows the same standard...

“Three Doors” is a small piece, 1,321 words, included in an anthology put out by The Writers’ Journal . I saw a call for submissions in Duotrope , an online platform that allows users to access lists of publishers and agents and offers a handy submission grid to help you keep track of submissions. I pay a subscription fee of about $100 a year for the service. I found the call under themed deadlines and the topic was doors  Ages ago I wrote a novel. I think like most of us, we all have a shelved novel, a manuscript in the drawer. Not to say it’s unloved or terrible or the work of a novice, but something that might make an appearance later. We haven’t given up on it. That’s the story with “Three Doors.” It is an excerpt from a novel I shopped around and even had an agent for—to no avail. It’s the piece that got me into Breadloaf—again, ages ago. What goes around comes around—meaning, I don’t know, I had a thing in there about doors. Doors to my character, to Tally’s heart. Afte...

I sent off “Names for Birds” to the Celtic Literary Review. Not all things are as they seem. About the Celtic Literary Review Journal : Our journal is a nonprofit, online magazine with one central goal in mind: to empower female writers. The literary world is a hectic place for all, and it is especially difficult for young women to have their unique voices heard. Through this literary journal based in central Ohio , we hope to provide a nurturing space for emerging female writers to explore and publish their work. The masthead is all female, diverse, and young—perhaps college age. Perfect for my weirdo piece—neither poem or prose, not necessarily original in that I took a list found online of names for birds—such as a murder of crows, a gaggle of geese and turned it on its head in light of recent headlines about entertainers and how they treat women, their women. “Names for Birds” will be out this Fall. “No One Goes to Albania” was accepted by Lowestoft Chronicle. Lowestoft C...

I love going to the garden to see my tomatoes, red from the sun and abundant heat, to inspect the cucumbers like little water balloons almost about to burst, and the beans, heavy on the vine or beginning as string ready to wax out into bulbous pods. There is this strange mix of emotions: pride at what I’ve accomplished and astonishment at what the little garden has achieved on its own. Sometimes I just sit back and watch it grow. Lately, it’s been the same with my garden of words. I formed them into patches, rows—planted earlier during dreary spring with only a forethought of what the summer might bring. Two pieces I wrote ages ago, revised somewhat recently, and have sent out have been accepted.   The longer “essay” No One Goes to Albania is a memory piece about a trip through the Balkans the Fall of 2007. I totally understood why it was hard to categorize as it didn’t fit easily into a travelogue or memoir. More about “home” and feeling “foreign” in strange times. There’s...

In writing news I’ve had a micro piece accepted. A Study in Grief was taken by Wild Willow Magazine (where the word takes root), formally The Minison Project. It is considered a fledgling publication by Duotrope, the portal I mostly use to submit and discover publications and calls for submissions. Grief. It something I’ve been feeling a lot these days—like whenever I open the news or social feed on my phone. It settles on me like humidity before a storm. I’d like to come inside and hide from it, not come back out until after its gone. Except there is always more. I’d had a few friends who have gone through things lately like losing loved ones: partners, parents, etc. As have I. So I listed them, wrote them down with a bit of annotation. There were also things I observed, such as on a run Christmas lights left up year-round—what’s up with that? So I surmised. Like anything labeled or titled a study, it is a series. The sketches might all appear the same, but there are tiny differ...

My story, The Writer, is out in Two Thirds North, a journal out of the University of Stockholm, where I worked with a fine group of editors to make the piece stronger. As I work on the short story/hybrid collection I plan to put up at createspace/Amazon, I’ve expanded my vision to now 3 volumes! I feel like all the effort to learn the process etc shouldn’t be wasted. With that in mind my reaching out to folks for help with cover, interior formatting, figuring out the KDP dashboard, back cover blurbs can be serve several projects at once. As always, I’m continuing to write new material and hope in a few months to have further announcements of accepted work. Until then . . . Bike rides and deck sitting, springing forward.

I submitted to Redrosethorns back in bleak February—who am I kidding, they’ve all been bleak lately. Anyway, I submitted a small snippet for a themed submission call around aging. Even though I don’t feel old, nor am I old old, stuff has come up, stuff I can no longer ignore. Such as, How do I get up off the floor now that I’m down here? Rredrosethorns is a woman-owned educational publication that promotes mental health and advocates for gender and sexuality education. I sent over their transom (again, showing my age) a poem/prose, prose poem about how it feels to be old/not old. It started with a list of observations about my body. I know, I lnow I run, I ride my bike, but there’s still the stairs at the end of the day. Someone’s going to have to get me up there—and it’s going to be me. Anyway—I made up a list and thought about it some more, then forgot about it, and then pulled it out (again, showing my age—it was there all along in a digital file) and spruced it up and sent it....

I just read over the galley proof for my short story in Two Thirds North, coming out Spring 2025. I worked closely with Adnan Mahmutovic and a student editor. They were GREAT! I definitely felt the work of a close hand in revising the piece. So close that at one point I had my cursor placed to make an edit and suddenly there was another cursor there—from across the ocean and time zones in Stockholm, reading along and seeing my changes. It was weird and surreal. I sort of wish I had that little cursor following me around now as I work on my hard big revision project. This fall I intend to go to Sweden to 1) see friends, 2) hike the Kungsladen, and 3) do a few Flash Memoir Workshops at Writer Festivals. The itinerary is just now getting set up and is a bowl of mush right now. Hoping by end of February things will come together—and then pray for a great air sale. Let me know—both of my readers if you have Scandinavian connections . . .

 NEW WORK accepted Just checked in with my submissions grid—I juggle two, one at Submittable and the other at Duotrope, it’s hard to keep up at times ): — anyway, I saw I have a new acceptance. Litmosphere has taken a shorty called I wish the Virgin Mary was my girlfriend. A weirdo that I wrote, revised, and revised some more, and then changed from poetry to a prose poem to then making it a haibun. Thanks Cheryl J. Fish! It will appear in the spring 2025 issue end of March.

In December, around Pearl Harbor Day—does anyone still observe, even care, or know what this means?!—I had a nice phone call with an editor from a small publishing house. They are intrigued by one of my manuscripts, a nonfiction project that I’ve been pedaling, peddling (it’s about cycling) for a while now. I wish someone would love it like I do. In fact that’s what our conversation consisted of: Why do I love it? Why did I write it? And can I change it and revise it and make it better? I wasn’t sure. Another good friend and reader told me—you have to bleed on the page. Not literally, but go back she encouraged me and really drive down to the emotional core. I mean it’s a memoir. She’s right/write. I did need to drill down and really think about how I felt about living in community, my marriage, and about riding my bike. Writing/riding is like the saying goes: like riding a bike—except that doesn’t explain things, such as the why and how I got here. So for the past 2 weeks I’ve bee...

 After whining  a bit about not having very many acceptances this year—I received news of ANOTHER acceptance. The dam burst. This time from a student-led journal out of the University of Stockholm, Two Thirds North. The piece is titled The Writer, where I cobbled together impressions from a trip I made in 2007 to Istanbul, Turkey. Essentially, pure fiction. In addition, I’ve put out a couple feelers for teaching Flash Memoir workshops in some beautiful places. Yes, that was my criteria, places I’d like to spend time in and just asked if the literary community there might be interested. And, already there’s been a response. I’ll have more news updates as things solidify for 2025. Looking forward! Until then, Dribble Drabble .  "reading" runes in Sweden

I’ve had a few less acceptances this year . . . after a record-setting acceptances last year. In fact, I was growing despondent—there’s always an emotional high, a release of adrenaline when I do receive notice of an acceptance. Through Submittable I saw that HOOT had taken a short-short for their postcard review. These are snippets, text short enough to fit on the back of a postcard. I had Sea of Lingerie ready and sent it in. It’s an odd duck—perfect for HOOT. To go along with the piece they wanted art, which I had on hand and an audio recording—which I produced with my morning voice. A combination of befuddled old lady and smokey, dry throat. Check out HOOT, https://www.hootreview.com/ And my books, sold through EVERYWHERE. Just Google and click and buy.

New work out now-Zen Garden, go to Rock and a Hard Place https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D9CRNTPM I started with a true incident: the basement at the townhouse I first lived in in Okemos always smelled like weed. I suspected the neighbors of hotboxing. My laundry left to dry down there ended up smelling like skunk. The odor wafted up to my second-floor room. It was the kind of smell that was pervasive. The lease contract stipulated no smoking allowed. Anyway, that’s where the idea started and then went from there. Remnants of the pandemic remain in my psyche and that also makes an appearance—just a mention, because the family of the main grandmother character is all discombobulated and off balance. They need to get centered and grandma comes to help. In more ways than one.. Excitement and humor ensues. Check it out! Rock and a Hard Place https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D9CRNTPM

  My short story, Zen Garden is out now at Rock and a Hard Place https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D9CRNTPM The cover art is a bit like a corny horror mag—not sure why because the magazine mission statement is Rock and a Hard Place Press is an independent publisher of literary noir, crime and dark fiction.   It focuses on characters that are struggling in a world in which they may feel powerless.   We’re interested in narratives about poverty, mental and physical health challengers, individuals challenged by expectations, racism, bias, prejudice, coming to terms with their own sexual or gender identities, cultural challenges — all of the above, and what these characters do next.   The flagship publication of Rock and a Hard Place Press is Rock and a Hard Place Magazine, a literary noir journal that serves as “A Chronicle of Bad Decisions and Desperate People.” I submitted to Stone’s Throw, a subpublication. The story is a feel good Zen piece (peace). Not sure if ...

I was a bit hesitant to publicize this recent short story publication— Because the more I thought about it, the more self-conscious I became that it blurred the boundary between real life and fiction. I know, I know we all have these thoughts, especially as creatives. At the same time readers are also sleuthing out connections between a writer and what might possibly be autobiography—or even not that sophisticated, they simply assume that someone is writing nonfiction when it is clearly fiction. For the writer: I remember at a Festival of Faith and Writing listening to Carlos Eire talk about how his book Waiting for Snow in Havana came into being. It was written as fiction, maybe in his mind a pretext to loosen him up and allow him to get words down on paper. Anyway, his editor asked how much of this is true, your life, and he answered all of it. They marketed it as memoir. At that same conference I also sat in on a talk about the novel Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski, who shared ...

2024 is off to a fruitful start—yet not so much new writing from this writer. Pure of Heart came out in February in Fathom . A very sweet short story (14 min. read) about a simple girl, in terms applied from the past: a servant, who become ingrained into a family of middle-class means and how that relationship touches every member. I was inspired by Flaubert’s story "A Simple Heart". A few weeks ago my piece The Yellow House appeared in both the print and online journal Of Rust and Glass. After reading Rachel Cusk’s novel Second Place , I was inspired to attempt something similar. The brilliance of the novel was that it kept the reader guessing, I kept thinking something was going to happen, perhaps a murder or falling out, something to reward the reader for reading to the last page. But nothing. A kind of bait and switch, or just baiting. In the end people disappoint us, we’re disappointing, the narrative is quotidian.   Coin-Operated Press has accepted The Machine W...