I suppose there were opioids in my IV. I remember eating a three-foot-long, hot-pink centipede. I was a trifle worried. It was Lent. Does centipede count as meat?
While I chewed—centipedes are a might gristle-ly—there appeared by my bed three women. They “poofed” in; I thought them witches. Like a Hollywood wind machine was in the room blowing only on the three of them, their wild, flaming-orange hair and amethyst robes flowed out behind them.
They spoke, talking on top of each other, one starting before the other stopped.
My southern upbringing immediately identified them. Must be Yankees, I thought.
“Oy vey can you believe…,” said the first witch.
“Without her hair cut…,” said the second.
“She came to the hospital, and there’s people everywhere…,” said the third.
“…and her hair…,” said the second.
“You can’t cut your hair?” said the third.
“I know a place…,” said the first.
This started such a discussion about which place.
I picked up the small hand mirror Mom left for me on my bedside table.
I do need a haircut.
“My tante Zelda…,” said the first witch.
“What?” said the second witch. “Your tante? Why she’d be better off having her hair cut by monkeys at the Bronx Zoo.”
And the third witch nodded, her bangle bracelets clinking, her crystal earrings casting rainbows on the ceiling.
“Do you have any mustard for my centipede?” I asked.
“Why yes,” said the third witch, pulling a jar from her pocket. “Grey Poupon?”
As I spread spicy brown mustard on my centipede, the first witch called her tante Zelda on the phone, “How’s next Wednesday, Dear?” she asked me.
I hesitated, trying to remember when I was scheduled to be discharged. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve got to go,” said the first witch. “You have some gray, no offense…”
To which the second witch said, “But not to Zelda. Anyone but Zelda.”
I’m a Sci Fi fan—live long and prosper, dude. One of my favorite TV shows features evil aliens with glowing eyes. As I struggled to remember my upcoming calendar, I looked out the door of my hospital room. In the room across the hall, I saw my doctor. He turned toward me—and his eyes glowed.
“Oy vey, you don’t look so good…,” said the second witch.
I paused a bit of mustard covered centipede halfway to my mouth. As my doctor started walking across the hall to my room, the witches grabbed their light sabers. I dropped my fork and pressed the button on my IV.
Time for more juice.
Title Photo by Stephen Andrews on Unsplash
News stories remind us daily of the migrant crisis throughout the world as people flee their homes for a variety of reasons. Refugee, by Alan Gratz, though written for a middle-grade audience, is a riveting novel for adults as well that draws us into the migrant experience from a child’s perspective.
Three continents. Three different time periods. Three children fleeing their countries.
Alan Gratz joins the past and the present to weave a gripping tale of the harrowing experiences of three children forced from their homes due to war and political unrest.
Josef yearns to celebrate his upcoming bar mitzvah and finally become a man. He just never expected it to be on a ship bound for Cuba, which he and his family board to escape out of Nazi Germany. When the ship is forced to return to Europe, and perhaps certain death, Josef finds himself thrust into adulthood and must make a decision that will determine the survival of his family.
Fast forward to 1994, when Cuba is teeming with food shortages and riots. Teenage Isabel finds herself on a questionable homemade raft. Together with her family and the neighbors next door, they depart for the United States. They just need the raft to hold up, avoid the Coast Guard, pray the sharks don’t get them, and hope that her mother, heavy with child, can survive the journey.
On the other side of the world, in 2015, war tears Syria apart, forcing Mahmoud’s father to seek a safe haven for his family. Amidst gunfire, danger, and the ever-present threat of death, they travel through Turkey and Serbia, enduring hunger, thieves, and prison. Mahmoud and his family continue onward through Austria and finally Germany, where the lives of the three children find a binding tie.
Refugee is a fast-paced, heart-rending story of the strength and courage of children and their valiant efforts, despite all obstacles, to forge a life filled with meaning and purpose.
Veronica Jorge
See you next time on May 22nd!
You still have time to polish that short (2000 words or fewer) holiday story for a chance to win cash and publication in our next “Sweet, Funny, and Strange” anthology, SEASONS READING!
For BWG’s purpose, a holiday story is one that involves any holiday between US Thanksgiving and News Year’s Day, inclusive).
So get that short story ready to enter.
Winners will receive:
First Place:
$250 and publication in our upcoming anthology: Season’s Readings: More Sweet, Funny, and Strange Holiday Tales
Second Place:
$100 and publication in Bethlehem Writers Roundtable
Third Place:
$50 and publication in Bethlehem Writers Roundtable
Date: May 15 – 26, 2023 (two weeks)
Registration Closes: May 23, 2023
Pricing: A2P Member fee: $15
Non-A2P Member fee: $25
Core Wounds sit in the heart of every person – both real and fictional. An understanding of these deep-seated, harmful “truths” we believe can lead to the creation of three-dimensional characters and emotionally impactful narratives readers will never forget.
This workshop will explore what a Core Wound is, how it goes into the building of a deeply felt and memorable character, and how it influences their actions and reactions in a story. Further, we’ll discuss “matching” Core Wounds, in which a pairing (lovers, hero/villain) have the same wound but manifest it differently – and the potentially perfect complications it creates.
Finally, we’ll talk about plot. How we construct a narrative to explore these Core Wounds is a vital part of harnessing this intense emotional connection. It can make the difference between a memorable story and one that falls flat.
Tere Michaels writes “happily ever afters” in the big city – with heaps of snark, angst, and humor. Her focus is on characters and all the ridiculous ways they trip through life and love.
She has written over fifteen books including her popular Faith, Love & Devotion series, the superhero saga, The Vigilante, and her latest series, Broadway or Bust. She has been presenting workshops on the writing process for over ten years and currently teaches on the SavvyAuthors platform. She has done presentations and workshops for chapters of RWA, RT Booklovers Convention, Liberty States, Sisters in Crime, Outreach International Writers, Inc., Hearts Through History, and Horror Writers of America. Previously, she co-taught and managed RT Booklovers Convention Boot Camp, and curated the Professional Development program for the Book Lovers Convention.
Currently, Tere operates The Writing Garage, whose services include Plot Whispering, developmental editing, private writing groups and writing retreats. You can reach her via her website, www.teremichaels.com, or on Facebook and Instagram.
Former police detective Michael McLaren arrives in Scotland, ready to immerse himself in the fun of the Highland Games and to enjoy a holiday with Melanie. But the old saying of plans oft going awry rears its ugly head: Simon Shaw, a member of McLaren’s folk group, dies. Murdered a year to the day following his uncle’s death.
McLaren is determined to find out who killed Simon. Needing justice for his friend is only half of his incentive. He also needs to appease his guilt for suggesting the group sing there in the first place.
As McLaren becomes immersed in the investigation, he wonders if the two deaths are linked, or have to do with the family or their clan. Perhaps Simon’s former wife killed him, bent on revenge more powerful than mere divorce. Or was the killing tied to an old hunt for diamonds? After all, diamonds aren’t only a girl’s best friend. Sometimes they birth greed and murder. And entrap the innocent.
Jo A. Hiestand grew up on regular doses of music, books, and Girl Scout
camping. She gravitated toward writing in her post-high school years and
finally did something sensible about it, graduating from Webster University
with a BA degree in English and departmental honors. She writes a British
mystery series (the McLaren Mysteries)—of which three books have
garnered the prestigious N.N. Light’s Book Heaven ‘Best Mystery
Novel’ three years straight. She also writes a Missouri-based cozy
mystery series (The Cookies & Kilts Mysteries, of which “A Trifling
Murder” is the second book) that is grounded in places associated with her camping haunts. The camping is a thing of the past, for the most part, but the music stayed with her in the form of playing guitar and harpsichord, and singing in a folk group. Jo carves jack o’ lanterns badly and sings loudly. She loves barbecue sauce and ice cream (separately, not together), kilts (especially if men wear them), clouds and stormy skies, and the music of G.F. Handel. You can usually find her pulling mystery plots outof scenery—whether from photographs or the real thing.
Contact Links
I have only a few right now. At the moment, I’m halfway through the first draft of a new McLaren mystery. It’s titled “The Cottage”. He’s in Cumbria, England, helping his love-interest pack for her move south to Derbyshire, to buy a house in his village. While he’s there, a woman asks him to investigate the cold case murder of her parents. He’s caught between wanting to find the killer (McLaren is a former police detective who is very keen on catching killers) and wanting to help his lady love.
When that book is finished, I need to start writing “Crumbs of Defeat,” the fourth book in my Cookies & Kilts series, a cozy series set in the mid-Missouri town of Beaudin Trace. My protagonist, pet bakery owner Kate Dunbar, enters the town’s annual bake-off contest. The contestant at the neighboring table is making life in general difficult for Kate because the woman says Kate is a pro and, therefore, should be disqualified from the contest. The judges disagree. Needless to say, after a bit, the contestant winds up dead, and Kate is suspected of the murder.
Probably at the beginning of the summer “Overdue,” another McLaren mystery audiobook, will be recorded and up on Audible and Amazon for sale. Callum Hale, my narrator, has won the “best narrator of the year” award and helped my book “Hide and Seek” attain “best audiobook of the year.” He’s an actor who lives in London, and he can do most any British accent that I need, a really amazingly talented chap. His current offering, the audio edition of “The Low Road,” has already racked up impressive reviews. He might get another book out toward the end of the year. That one will probably be “Related By Murder,” but we’ll see if he has time for that—the holidays might get in the way!
After the audiobook of “Overdue” comes out this summer, I will probably have time in the autumn to plot a romantic suspense book. I’ve not written one before, so it may prove I’m out of my comfort zone! And might turn out to be an utter flop! But I’d like to give it a try. Something different. I have the kernel of a plot, but characters and title elude me for the moment. Not a problem, right?
For “The Low Road” I posted a very simple question that needed answering. Contestants found it on my website (www.johiestand.com). They had to read a few paragraphs from the story, then answer a question – the answer was found in the excerpt. They emailed me their answers, and I did a drawing for the winners. I had four winners. The prizes were things associated with the story, which takes place during a Highland Games event in Scotland—a beautiful quaich, several silver bangle bracelets and a rose quartz necklace, a silver and jade necklace, and a Luckenbooth thistle brooch. In addition to that PR event, I made my usual book trailer and posted that on my Facebook page and on my YouTube channel. I’m doing some virtual book tours—review tours, also—and highlighting the book at a local Highland Games event I will attend in May.
This is a tough question! So many things. But probably the thing I like best is creating the storyline. I love my characters, the protagonists and secondary ones, both—and I like putting them in situations and seeing how they will fare. Along the way, in my McLaren mysteries, I add little bits of history, if called for, or touches of Celtic myths, like the McLaren clan mermaid legend in “The Low Road.” I love describing the areas for the various scenes, and hope I can set my readers down in the places and that they will think it is as beautiful or mystical or tension filled as I do. I like seeing my characters change during the course of the series—either for better or worse. McLaren has gone from being a near-hermit in book one, to losing his finance thru murder in book six, to finding someone to love in book eight, and now we’re watching that romance slowly develop. I don’t know if he’ll marry Melanie, but it’s possible! A character changing for the worse is McLaren’s long-time nemesis, Charlie Harvester, who was a detective inspector (as was McLaren) in the same Constabulary. Throughout his appearance in ten books, we see their animosity develop, learn what caused it, see Harvester’s attempts at retaliation, his mental problem, and finally his demise.
Research, without a doubt. I can look up most things online, and I’m a stickler for getting things right. Nothing irritates me more than sloppy research. Mistakes are jarring, and yank the reader out of the story if they know what is correct. Some mistakes can’t be avoided, but I try to get things correct: types of fish found in the Mississippi River near St Louis, MO; moonrise time in October in Scotland; what British Army regiments fought in the Netherlands in WWII; age range for British soldiers fighting in the Falklands War and types of service medals awarded; what distinguishes a British barrister from a British solicitor, and what’s the difference in their duties, education, and how their cases are appointed; breeds of dogs and their personalities. Things like that. Some answers I have a difficult time getting, no matter how much I search online. When that happens, I cross my fingers and choose what I think sounds reasonable. But I try my hardest to get things correct. Most of the places I write about come from my own experience, so I can describe those well, but there again, I do plop down fictitious roads and such in my stories, so I can always blame mistakes on my invention!
About the best thing I ever heard, and what I’d like to pass on, is to not give up. It is so easy to get discouraged. Rejection is hard to take. Unless you’re the next JK Rowling, or Diana Gabaldon, or Stephen King, you might not get a huge book contract with your first book. Most of us struggle for years to get any type of notice from the reading public. It’s a long and hard process, but if you quit, you’ll never achieve your dream. So, please keep writing and submitting.
I still have book ideas, and I’ve written thirty-three books to date. I have ideas I know will never materialize into books, and I have ideas for several McLaren mysteries that I’ll get to in the near future. I’ve had ideas for an historical series, but I know that will never happen because I’m fearful of getting something wrong, like saying so-and-so was using a Colt revolver in 1800 but the gun wasn’t developed until 1835. I have enough problems with plotting and keeping my characters in line without adding to my potential errors!
“Mike, would you do me a favor?”
“If I can, of course. What?”
“Take the day off.”
“The day off?“
Melanie poured some milk into her tea and stirred it. The spoon made soft clinking sounds as it tapped against the china. “We could walk up the hill in Balquhidder, the one that’s associated with your clan. I’d love to see that. Or we could go into Callander, if you’d rather play the tourist. It’s also drowning in history. Or,” she added, her voice growing excited, “we could drive up to the Holy Pool. I’d very much like to see that. Maybe take a sack lunch and then drive north to Glencoe.” She hesitated, looking as if she shouldn’t have made the suggestions.
“I’d love to do those things with you.”
She smiled, grabbing his hand.
“But just not now. We’ll do our sightseeing when I’ve nabbed my friend’s killer.”
Melanie withdrew her hand, her smile fading. Nodding, she shifted her gaze and concentrated on her meal.
“I’ll be back today for tea. We can talk then. We’ll map out what we want to do…afterwards.” He cleared his throat, sensing things weren’t going too well between them. “After breakfast, you can think of things for us to do, and we’ll spend the evening together.”
She picked up her fork.
“I’m sorry, Melanie. I didn’t plan on our time up here to be like this. When I suggested coming to the Games I thought we would be spending the entire week together. I thought we would have a dinner with Nick, Colin and Simon, maybe drive over to Loch Lomond or up to Loch Ness, perhaps take in a concert or art exhibit in Stirling…” His voice broke off as she attacked the fish and hacked it into chunks. “Give me another day or two. I should be finished in two days…tops. Then we’ll do whatever you would like. A drive up the Great Glen road or take a boat to the Hebrides. You’ll love the islands.” He eyed her. She still didn’t look at him. “Please understand, De¾” He paused, catching himself in time. He had nearly called her Dear Heart. He took a breath, finishing with, “Please understand. I urged Simon to come here. I wish to hell I hadn’t, that I hadn’t accepted the performance invitation in the first place, but I did. And look what happened.”
She laid down the utensils and looked at him. “Mike¾”
“I know the police are working on it but that’s not enough for me. It’s too slow. The nerk might get away.” He wadded up the table napkin, his fingers practically strangling it. “It’s my fault he came. If he’d stayed home…” He took a breath, a vein in his neck throbbing. “I’m responsible for his death. I have to solve this, to avenge his passing.” His voice had risen, emphasizing his need and emotions. “Please don’t be cross. I… I couldn’t stand it if you were angry with me.”
She looked up, giving him a faint smile. “I’m not cross, Mike. I’m just…disappointed. Mainly in myself. I do this all the time. I envision something in the future, have myself convinced whatever it is will be exactly as I assume it will be, and then I’m frustrated and let down that it hasn’t turned out like my vision. It’s no one’s problem but mine. I shouldn’t do this, but I do. It’s as natural as breathing to me.” She slid her hand around his neck and pulled him close to her so that their faces were just inches apart. “We’ll have years yet of playing tourists together. I understand you need to find Simon’s killer. You won’t be fit to live with until you’ve caught him.”
“I’m sorry, Melanie. It’s the way I am. I can’t change. If I see someone in trouble, some injustice¾”
“I know. That’s one of the things I like about you. Now.” She touched his cheek. “Go on.”
He laid his fingers beneath her chin, tilted her face up, and kissed her on the forehead. He grabbed his leather jacket and left without looking back.
Fighting back the tears, she laid down her napkin and ran up the stairs to her room.
2 0 Read moreA Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
Can Jake convince Olivia to risk it all one more time . . .
More info →When a cruel and evil wizard threatens Olivia and her wedding plans you may be surprised to see who steps in to save the day.
More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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