Things I Learned at the Retreat, Part Two

The beautiful thing about learning is that nobody can take it away from you.
― B.B. King

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere.
— Chinese Proverb

There is no end to education. It is not that you read a book, pass an examination, and finish with education. The whole of life, from the moment you are born to the moment you die, is a process of learning.
– Jiddu Krishnamurti

Saturday at the retreat was soggy, weather-wise, so it was the perfect backdrop for getting creative. We had a lively discussion about using personal papers as a source for our writing: wills, letters, notes, reminders, lists, journals, diaries, memos, inspirational messages, ship’s passenger logs, personal ads in the newspaper . . . Then we discussed using these as a source for epistolary writing.

Epistolary writing, by definition, is telling a story through letters or notes, or the judicious use of letters or notes. Using epistolary material for research or inspiration gives your writing something tactile and real.

Advantages:
- immediate access to characters through point of view or perception
- correspondence or journal entries allow you to add selected details and reactions
- it avoids the omniscient POV but allows for “head-hopping”
- gives the allusion of reality
- in non-fiction it supports theories and demonstrates relatable facts

Unearthing personal material can help reveal a character’s motivation, wants, or needs. An excerpt from a letter, a note left as a clue, a shopping list, all can help develop the story. Ideas for stories can be inspired by a letter, an old diary, postcards, a ticket stub, or any number of memorabilia.

This was followed by our guided meditation and freefall writing. This time we were told to visualize a place and then begin our piece with “In this place…” and describe what we see.

In this place . . . there is darkness and silence. I am one of those rare individuals who lack the ability to visualize things in their mind. This condition is called aphantasia. For the longest time I never even knew I was different. It never occurred to me that others could visualize things clearly in their minds. What a gift that must be! That is not to say I don’t have any imagination, I have stories running through my head constantly, but they’re audio only. This is probably why I had trouble with art. I could draw or paint from real life, or from a picture before me, but I could not imagine a painting in my head and then bring it to life.

We learned the benefits of turning things upside down. We were given a paper with nine boxes on it and each box had a doodle in it. We were given a time limit and asked to make something out of each doodle. When our time was up we were given a second sheet and told to flip it upside down and try again. I don’t know about anyone else, but this new perspective allowed me to fill in more that twice the number of boxes than I had on the first sheet.

The afternoon session began with a few writing games, and then we settled in for some ekphrastic writing. Ekphrasis is basically praising a work of art through poetry or prose. Art emerging from art. I’ve done ekphrastic poetry before, but I’ve never thought to apply it to other writing.

First we were told to choose an object or painting from a collection set up, one that “spoke” to us. I was too slow to get the painting I wanted and ended up with a little mosaic frog. We were to jot down observations about it, followed by memories or emotions that it evoked. It didn’t really surprise me that my finished piece evolved into a poem:

If the world were black and white
Then my frog would be unremarkable
He rests on the table top
Dark green toes spread wide
Skin of blue and green mosaic
Catching the light
Not at all like the frogs
That use to sing on summer nights
So long ago
I wonder if he began
As a multi-coloured polliwog
Somehow escaping the hungry birds
I wonder . . .
Can he swim at all?

Once again I did not meet my goal of writing every day this week, but if you count blog posts I did write most days. And wonder of wonders, I settled on my NaNo idea, which for me is early. I decided to go with the flash anthology – 30 stories in 30 days. The best that can happen is that at the end of the month I’ll have a ready made anthology for my book flood book this year. The worst? I decide I can’t keep up the pace and have to switch to a novel. Won’t be the first time I’ve changed horse mid-stream during NaNo. :-D

I haven’t been reading a lot lately. I’m working on The Book of Magic by Alice Hoffman, but I’m reading it slowly. This is the final story in the Practical Magic series and I want to savour it.

I finished a long letter to my sister, and I did the research on a couple more spices. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have completed the posts because they can be a little time-consuming and I’m going to be crunched for time as it is.

The Week Ahead . . .

Well, duh! Monday is the start of NaNoWriMo. If nothing else, then at least you can be sure I’ll be writing every day. LOL

Call Centre Zombie Apocalypse

Once upon a time I used to do a prompt story every Friday. Then one Friday the creativity well ran dry so I turned to my Facebook friends for story ideas. They suggested the following:

Write about an employee who turns into a zombie and murders colleagues.
Set it in a place like where we used to work.
Ninjas. Eeeevil ninjas.

So, I pondered these suggestions, and I realized that the zombie theme worked well with my previous employment as a call centre drone, as anyone who’s ever worked in a call centre can tell you. And Ninjas, yeah, I could see Ninjas fitting in. To populate this oh-so-serious story, I drew my characters from both my writing friends and friends I made while working at the call centre. This is the result:

Call Centre Zombie Apocalypse

Dolly juggled the two stacked take-out trays of Tim Horton’s coffee she was carrying so she could swipe her pass key through the first of the two security doors. The red light turned to green and she wrestled the door open, then swiped her way through the second security door.

Three steps into the vast cavern of the call centre she stopped abruptly. What the hell? “Dolly! Hey Dolly, over here!” Amanda waved frantically from several rows down.

With another glance at the black clad figures sitting her regular row, Dolly continued down to where her friends were now sitting and started passing out coffees and lattes, making sure Adam got his extra large steeped tea.

“So who are those guys dressed in black sitting in our row?”

“Dead meat, that’s who!” Kahley said, taking her double double and inhaling the steam.

“I heard they’re Ninjas,” Heidi said as she typed furiously, trying to fill out all the required forms before her call ended.

Dolly looked at Jamie, the calming influence of the group.

“All I know is, it’s Comcast Cable technical support, like us, but it’s a new campaign,” she said, putting her phone on mute. “It’s all very hush hush.”

Leanne slid into her seat and popped the top off her latte. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, taking a sip. “Those bee-atches are getting paid $10 an hour more than we are.”

There was dead silence in the row as everyone turned to look at her.

Amanda was the first to speak. “Ten. Freaking. Dollars! You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Nope,” Leanne shook her head as she logged into her phone. “And they don’t have to work weekends. Just because they’re Ninjas.”

“No way!” Pat said, ‘accidentally’ losing her call.

“Told you they were Ninjas,” Heidi said smugly.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Yvonne advised.

Beside her, Sarah nodded solemnly. “Mamma Jo.”

“Mamma Jo,” Amanda agreed.

“Mamma Jo,” Adam said with a slight shiver.

“Who’s Mamma Jo?” Dolly asked. She was the newest member of the team, which was why she was the one sent on the coffee runs.

Pat lowered her voice to answer. “She used to be our supervisor before she was let go under mysterious circumstances. Now she’s a Voodoo priestess.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“You all are sure about this?” Mamma Jo asked. To look at her you would think she was just a regular, motherly type of person. Which, of course, was just the way she wanted it. In reality she was the most powerful Voodoo priestess in all of Ontario.

“They took our row,” Amanda said.

“They’re allowed to wear those black uniforms,” Pat added.

“They’re getting paid more than we are,” Yvonne said grimly.

“Have you seen their shoes?” Sarah asked with a shudder. “Can we say, ewww?”

“All right,” Mamma Jo said. “I’ll help you. But it’s going to cost you. How much have you got?”

The team members looked at each other.

“We were kind of hoping you’d do it for old time’s sake,” Kahley said.

“You think chicken feet and voodoo dolls come cheap? Come back when you’re ready to talk money.”

“You know where we work,” Pat reminded her. “We’re never going to have the money.”

Mamma Jo heaved a sigh. “Tell you what I can do. I can turn the ninja team into zombies. But I’ll need something to focus their zombie rage on. Any ideas?”

Adam grinned his most evil grin. “How about Comcast cable customers?”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Two weeks later the team, plus Mamma Jo, were camped out on the flat roof top of the building the call centre was housed in. Fortunately, they’d had enough time to lay in supplies, mostly tequila and Zesty Cheese Doritos.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Mamma Jo admitted.

“It’s not your fault,” Yvonne said. “And it’s not like they’re going after everyone, just anyone connected to Comcast.”

“Yeah,” Leanne told her, “If Sarah hadn’t tripped over her new shoes and fallen towards Amanda . . .”

“Who jostled Pat, who nudged Kahley . . . Yeah, yeah. We know. What’s done is done though,” Jamie said.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Sarah whined, sticking her foot out to admire her newest shoe. “You guys are always trying to blame me for everything.”

“I’m kind of disappointed,” Heidi said. “I thought Ninja zombies would be faster than regular zombies.”

“Nothing like getting the life sucked out of you to slow you down,” Adam told her.

“You couldn’t have known you’d lose control of the spell,” Yvonne said, ignoring everyone else in her attempt to soothe Mamma Jo.

“All those innocent lives . . .”

“Innocent my ass,” Kahley said with a snort. “Bunch of lying, cheating, losers, the whole works of them.”

“What happens when they start coming after us?” Heidi asked.

Adam patted his trusty Winchester and grinned his cheeky grin. “Then we start picking them off, one by one.”

Jamie, already three sheets to the wind, held up her mug of tequila. “Let’s hear it for the Call Centre Zombie Apocalypse!”

Everyone raised their mugs. “Cheers!”

Spice of Life Part IX Saffron

Description:
It takes more than 225,000 stigmas from the crocus sativus to produce one pound of saffron. No wonder it’s considered the world’s most expensive spice. The stigmas, called styles, are collected and dried, and often ground into a fine powder before being sold.

Saffron is subtle and fragrant, and has a spicy, pungent, somewhat bitter flavor with a sharp and penetrating odor. A little goes a long way and it’s most often found in Spanish paella, Italian risotto, rice, chicken, seafood stews, and many Middle Eastern dishes.

History:
Pigments made from saffron have been found in 50,000 year old prehistoric cave drawings. It is mentioned in Chinese medical texts dating back to 300 BC. Early uses include ritual offerings, a source of dyes, perfumes, and medicines, and was one of the sweet-smelling herbs mentioned in the Song of Solomon.

The saffron crocus was cultivated in Iran and Kashmir and was introduced into Cathy by the Mongol invasion. It was cultivated by the Arabs in the mid-900s. It was used in Roman cuisine and it was one of the spices they took with them when they settled in southern Gaul. It next appeared in the 14th century as a treatment for the Black Death. Europe imported large quantities of saffron from the Mediterranean. A fourteen-week-long war, called The Saffron War, was precipated when one of the shipments of saffron was stolen.

It was introduced to the Americas in the 1700s where it was cultivated by the Pennsylvanian Dutch. The Spanish occupying the Caribbean purchased large amounts of this saffron, creating a high demand for it and driving the price up. This lasted until the War of 1812 when so many saffron laden ships were destroyed it collapsed the trade. Today, saffron is usually imported from Iran, Greece, Morocco, and India.

Other uses:
Aside from its long history of use in traditional medicines, saffron has also been used as a fabric dye and to perfume bath water. In Asia saffron was a symbol of hospitality and in India people used it for caste marks to indicate wealth. Minoan women used it in cosmetics and Medieval monks added it to egg whites to create a yellow glaze that could be substituted for gold in their manuscripts.

Medicinal Uses:
Saffron is a source of compounds known to have antioxidant, antidepressant, anti-carcinogenic and anti-inflammatory properties. It’s effective in reducing inflammation, reducing appetite, and aiding in weight loss. It can help improve your mood, memory, and learning ability. It may aid in lowering blood pressure and blood sugar levels, and improve eyesight in adults with age-related macular degeneration. Research has shown it useful in the treatment of depression and tests have shown it to selectively kill colon cancer cells or suppress their growth.

Recipes:

Spiced Saffron Tea

Ingredients:
4 cups water
2 teaspoons loose leaf tea, preferably white
¼ teaspoon saffron
1 pinch sugar
1 3 inch cinnamon stick
2 cardamon pods
1 tbsp fresh ginger slices
liquid honey

Instructions:
In a saucepan, boil water and add tea.
Add cinnamon, cardamon, and ginger. Turn off the heat and let steep for 5 minutes.
Grind up the saffron threads and sugar into a powder using a mortar and pestle. Add to tea steep for another 3 minutes.
Add honey to taste.

Saffron Rice

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups basmati rice
2 1/4 cups water
1 cinnamon stick, broken in half
5 cloves
2 bay leaves
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter, softened

Instructions:
Rinse the rice until the water runs clear.
Place cinnamon, cloves, bay leaves, and saffron in a cheesecloth bag.
In a medium non-stick pot, add everything except the butter.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and cook, covered, for 15 minutes.
Remove from heat and let sit without removing the lid for 10 minutes.
Remove cheesecloth bag. With a fork, gentle stir in the butter and serve.

Things I Learned at the Retreat, Part One

I am still learning.
— Michelangelo, age 87

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.
― Mahatma Gandhi

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.
— Henry Ford

I once did some editing work for an author who learned the art of novel writing through a correspondence course. Now there’s nothing wrong with learning through correspondence, there are many, many terrific courses out there, but she figured that once she finished the course, she knew it all – there was no need to learn anything else.

I beg to differ. I think there’s always something new to learn, especially as a writer. You learn, you grow, and your writing can’t help but improve. Like I said last week, I learned a lot at the retreat, a surprising amount as a matter of fact. So I thought over the next couple of Sunday posts I’d share what I learned.

The first thing we learned was to use a daisy. First, you set yourself a goal, then you take that goal and break it down into manageable bits. Next you draw a daisy, and don’t be stingy, make it big enough to write in. Write down your goal in the center of the flower and write down the actions you need to take to achieve it in the petals. You can have fun with it by colouring in each petal as you complete each action.

Then we learned about YET. We often get in the habit of seeing obstacles to our writing, that keep us from moving forward. But all we need to do to change that is to add the word yet to the end. “This novel isn’t going anywhere . . . yet.” Or, “This poem doesn’t make sense . . . yet.” You get the idea. Pretty easy, isn’t it? And effective, too.

And to round out the first evening, we did something they called “Freefalling.” We started with a guided meditation, and once we were relaxed and our minds were open, we were shown a picture of a fern frond with a curled end and told to write about it. Here’s what I came up with (unedited, of course):

Deep in the heart of the misty forest, past where the ginseng and ferns vie for the light, grows the rarest of flowers, the faery’s bells. Th air is soft, filled with the scent of the earthy woods. The delicate bells, strung along the stem like beads on a string, ring only once, for the birth of the fairy held in its curl, and then they fall to the ground, forever silent. The faery bud is the spiral at the end of the stalk. The delicate green of its colour belies the strength of the bud itself. The fairy lies inside, dormant, growing like a caterpillar in a chrysalis, and then suddenly it bursts the confines of its shell to fly free.

The meditation/relaxation before the prompt really helped get me into a creative mindset. I haven’t tried it on my own, but it’s on my list of things to do now that I’m home again.

I’m not sure what I did this past week instead of writing, but I know for sure I didn’t make my goal of writing every day. Is anyone really surprised by this? I think I’m deep in my annual pre-NaNoWriMo slump. I go through this every October – my creativity just seems to dry up until November 1 when it bursts free again. But at least I’ve got my NaNo choices narrowed down a bit – I’m still thinking about a flash anthology, and I have two ideas for SciFi novels, one of which might be a SciFi Romance.

Reading wise, I finished The Green Man, by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, and I have moved on to The Book of Magic by Alice Hoffman.

The Week Ahead . . .

I made a list of spices last week, just to see how many I have left. There aren’t a lot because I’m discounting the ones that don’t come powdered. Since I’m leaving salt and pepper for last, I think this week’s spice will be saffron.

I really need to get on that “writing every day” thing, especially with NaNo just around the corner. It would be nice to get into some kind of daily routine – it might even be back to the lists for me for some semblance of organization.

I’ve definitely abandoned the idea of a Kiranthus book for NaNo. He doesn’t really need his own story, does he? Meh, maybe he does, but that’ll be a NaNo for another year. I’m pretty sure it’s going to come down to between the two SciFi novels, I just have to decide which one.

Here’s to hoping for a busy week writing wise.

A Spell of Trouble

Prompt: One day, a group of students create a strange creature with the help of a cursed cassette tape and an old teddy bear.

“This is going to be the best Halloween yet,” Neville said gleefully. He was standing with his friends in front of the old, abandoned house.

“If you ask me, it’s a stupid waste of time,” Sally grumbled.

“What, you want to go trick-or-treating like a little kid?”

“Well, no.” Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. Who didn’t want free candy?

“My mom says I’m too old to go begging for candy,” Terry said glumly.

“Mine too,” Frankie chimed in.

“Let’s just do this already,” Corrine said.

Since it was Neville’s idea, he was in charge. “Okay, everyone follow me.”

He led the way around to the back of the house where he’d already loosened the boards over one of the basement windows. Pulling the boards off the rest of the way off, he shone his flashlight into the space and swallowed hard.

“Okay, who’s first in?”

His friends just stared at him. “It was your idea, you first,” Sally said. The others nodded.

“Fine.” With more bravado than he was feeling, he knelt down and shone the flashlight into hole. Turning around, he eased into the space backwards, landing with a slight thump.

“C’mon down,” he called to the others. “There’s a box right under the window. It’s a little shaky, so be careful.”

One by one, the others joined him and when Terry, who was last, hit the box it collapsed under him. He sprang to his feet and assured everyone he was all right.

“Yuck! It stinks down here,” Frankie said.

“Don’t be such a prissy baby,” Corrine told him.

“I’m not prissy!”

“Cut it out guys!” Neville said. “You can argue after we do this.”

“Fine. Tell us what we’re supposed to do.”

“First, we sit in a circle.”

They did so and then he continued. “Now, put the stuff you brought into the middle and then I’ll make up the spell.”

There was a large hunk of black licorice from Terry, a white crystal from Corrine, an audio cassette from Sally, and a teddy bear from Frankie.

“A teddy bear Frankie, really?” Corrine said.

“What’s wrong with a teddy bear? I found it behind the old folks home. It belonged to someone who died.” He lowered his voice. “It’s probably cursed.

“My sister said that cassette is cursed, that’s why I swiped it,” Sally said.

Corrine grinned at her. “I swiped the mine too. My sister’s really into that new age stuff. She’s got a million crystals.”

Not to be outdone by a couple of girls, Terry admitted, “I swiped the licorice from the corner store. I’ll bet old man Potter would have really cursed if he’d seen me.”

“You all did great guys,” Neville assured them. “I can work with this stuff. Just let me think for a minute.”

He studied the objects in front of him with great care, then finally nodded. “Okay, anybody know what time it is?”

Terry looked at his watch. “It’s almost midnight.”

“The witching hour,” Neville said in a dramatic voice. “Time to start.”

He picked up the teddy bear. “Behold the vessel for our spell.” Next he picked up the crystal and worked it into one of the holes in the bear. “This crystal will call a spirit to inhabit the body.” The licorice followed the crystal into the bear. “Black food to feed the soul.” Pulling the tape from the cassette, he started winding it around the bear. “And the cursed music to bind it all in place.”

Setting the bear in the center of the circle again, he looked at the others. “Are you ready for the next step?” When they all nodded he pulled out his pocket knife. Flipping it open, he jabbed his finger and passed the knife to Corrine, who was sitting beside him. The knife made the rounds, Frankie being the only one to make a noise when it was his turn.

“This part we do together,” Neville said. “We hold our fingers over the bear and let the blood drip onto it.”

As they did so, he finished his make-shift spell. “Let our essence bring our creation to life.”

Five drops of blood hit the bear simultaneously. No one was more surprised than Neville when there was a burst of light from the bear. The group fell back away from the circle.

“Whoa. What just happened?” Sally asked.

“Did you see that?” Terry said excitedly. “That was so cool!”

“Guys?” Frankie said. “The box under the window broke. How are we supposed to get out of here?”

“What’s the rush?” Corrine asked. “We can just—” She was interrupted by a growl from the circle. The teddy bear stood, red eyes glowing.

The screams went on for a very long time.

Spice of Life Part VIII Paprika

Description:
Paprika comes from the Capsicum annuum family, which includes sweet and hot peppers as well as chili peppers, but the peppers used for paprika tend to be milder and have thinner flesh. The striking red peppers are dried and powdered, and range in taste from sweet and mild to hot. American Paprika is the blandest, while Hungarian Paprika has the greatest range of flavor.

The version you find in the spice aisle of your average supermarket is very mild in flavor, with a sweet taste and subtle touch of heat and is best used to sprinkle on a finished dish, such as deviled eggs, and to add color to grilled meat like in a rib spice rub. The stronger Hungarian paprika is very versatile and is good in egg dishes, meat and poultry stews, game, rabbit, fish, soups, boiled or steamed vegetables, rice, and cream based sauces.

History:
Historians believe the peppers used in paprika were first cultivated in the area of South America that is now part of Brazil and Bolivia. They were discovered by Columbus on one of his voyages to the New World at the end of the 15th century. Though at first the pepper plants were used as a decorative plant, they spread from Spain through Europe. The Turks introduced the pepper plants to Hungary (which was under Turkish rule) in the 16th century. It was at first used as a cure for fever and typhus in Hungary before it was used as a main spice for Hungarian cuisine.

The Turks introduced paprika as a spice to the Balkan Peninsula in the 18th century, and it was not used in the west until the mid-1900s. The paprika from Europe was somewhat hot, but through careful cultivation and grafting, growers were able to produce a sweeter, milder paprika.

Medicinal Uses:
Paprika is loaded with vitamins A, E, and B6 as well as iron. It also contains antioxidants which help fight cell damage due to chronic ailments such as cancer and heart disease, and may help protect against inflammatory conditions like arthritis. It also contains nutrients that promote better eye health and lowers the risk of cataracts. As well as improving cholesterol levels, it may also improve blood sugar levels and stave off anemia.

Recipes:

Tomato Cocktail

Ingredients:
16 oz tomato Juice
1 oz red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 cucumber - peeled and pureed
4 wedges lime - for garnish

Directions:
Add all ingredients, except lime wedges, to a pitcher and stir well.
Chill for at least 2 hours.
Serve in highball glasses full of ice, garnished with a lime wedge each.


Hungarian Goulash

Ingredients:
1 3/4 lb of stewing beef, cubed
4 red peppers
2 tbsp of flour
1 3/4 oz of butter
3 medium onions, thinly sliced
2 tsp smoked paprika
1 cup beef stock
1 pkg egg noodles
1 cup sour cream
1 tbsp of chives, chopped
3 pinches of salt
1 pinch of pepper
2 tbsp of olive oil

Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350.
Peel the peppers, then cut them in half lengthways and de-seed. Lay in a roasting tray, cut-side down, then drizzle with a tablespoon of oil and season with a pinch of salt and pepper.
Cook in the oven until soft, approximately 10 minutes. Remove and allow to cool, then cut into 1/2 in slices and set aside - leaving the oven on.
Combine a pinch of salt with the flour in a bowl. Lightly coat the diced beef in the seasoned flour and brown in batches in the butter in a frying pan. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
Add the onions to the same pan and cook for 4-5 minutes until golden. Stir in the paprika and peppers and cook for another minute.
Place meat, onions, and peppers in a casserole dish and add the beef stock. Cook in the oven for 1 ½ hours until the beef is tender and cooked through.
Once the meat is almost tender, cook the noodles in salted boiling.
Remove the casserole dish from the oven, season (if necessary) and skim off any fat that has risen to the surface. Stir in the sour cream.
Divide noodles into bowls. Spoon the goulash on top and sprinkle with the chives. Serve immediately.

Spring Thaw Writescape Re-emerging Retreat

He who retreats lives longer.
— Michael Scott

I've decided to retreat to the spirit world where I feel appreciated and understood.
— Dov Davidoff

In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.
― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

It only took a year and a half of waiting, but as I type this, I’m at my writer’s retreat. Woot! Whether you’re seeing this post at the regular time or much later today will depend on whether or not I can sign into the dashboard for my blog (I’m on my Lenovo here, not my MSI and I still switching back and forth between the two for some things, like blog posts).

I gotta tell you, third time’s the charm.

The first retreat I went on, Winterfire, was pretty much a learning experience. And I don’t mean learning as in I learned a lot there, I mean learning as in learning to investigate a little more fully about what I want/don’t want out of a retreat. It had a beautiful setting – a big manor house up on Lake Simcoe – but was a little lacking in the amenities, and it was run by a Toronto Based writer’s group so naturally a lot of the participants were from that group. They seemed to be dabblers more than writers; only a couple of them were serious about their writing and they pretty much kept to themselves.

The second one, the Kingston Writersfest, was pretty good (really good compared to Winterfire). It was an urban setting, but set on the waterfront. It was more down to the brass tacks of writing with its lectures and masterclasses to pick and choose from to make your own schedule. There really weren’t many opportunities to socialize outside of the classes, but I did learn a lot.

This retreat is everything I was looking for in a retreat. It’s a picturesque setting, the cabins lined up along the north shore of Rice Lake. Each cabin has its own kitchen, fireplace, and deck, but it’s part of a resort so there’s also a restaurant and all kinds of stuff to do should you want to. We have group writing sessions, but lots of free time to do our own thing. The cabins are shared, but we each have our own room – one shared bathroom with a spa tub, one small bathroom with a closet sized shower attached to one of the bedrooms.

This retreat is for more serious-minded writers, or writers who are trying to take their writing more seriously. The cabins were supposed to have a writing desk in each bedroom, but the only “desk” in here is a table-like thing with a chair against the wall beside the fireplace. But that’s okay. There’s a long table in the kitchen that’s big enough for at least two of us (socially distant) to work on our laptops. Mostly we’ve been writing in notebooks.

These writers are friendly and more sociable, and the only bad thing about it is that I only signed up for three days, not the five or seven. It’s even worse when the moderators announced that this will be the last retreat they’ll be offering. *sigh*

Looks like it’s back to the drawing board to find a yearly (or more often) writing retreat to go to. However, if I feel the need to get away to write I can always book a cabin on my own. Maybe even talk a writer friend or two into going with me.

Can’t say as I got a lot of writing done last week, other than the blog posts. I seem to recall running a lot of errands, mostly in the morning which is when I’m supposed to be writing. I managed to get together with one of my writing friends and we had coffee down on the waterfront one cool and grey-looking day, and another of my writing friends and I have been unsuccessfully trying to connect by phone.

Of course I can feel the creative juices starting to ignite from being at the retreat. Let’s just hope I can keep fueling the fire once I get home.

I’m more than halfway through The Green Man, by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, and I probably don’t even have to say how much I’m enjoying it.

The Week Ahead . . .

I have no idea what this week’s spice is going to be. My big book of spices is at home. But rest assured there’s always room for more spice in your life.

Other than writing every day, I also have no idea what I’ll be doing this week. I’d like to try and nail down my mornings for writing in my office, but I suspect first I’ll have to clean it – again!

One thing I’d like to do for sure is nail down my idea for this year’s NaNo. Maybe I’ll have to write them on a list or something – I have several of them. Although the Kiranthus book isn’t out of the race yet.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

The Bone Moon

Seeing as this is the "spooky" month, I figured for the next couple of weeks I'd rerun a couple of my spookier stories for Fiction Friday.Hope you enjoy!

Moonlight glinted on the chain stretching from post to post across the laneway. The metal “Keep Out” sign clanked as the chain was jostled by the six shadow figures. The night was still, save for the crunch of gravel underfoot and a quickly muffled, nervous giggle. Not even a breeze stirred the leaves of the surrounding trees.

By the time the gravel gave way to dirt, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore could be heard.

“I don’t know about this Butch, maybe we should go back.”

“Don’t wimp out on us now, Lisa. It’s just a little further.” Butch pulled her along behind him, the trembling in her hand having nothing to do with the chill in the sea air and everything to do with an innate fear of the dark.

“We should have at least brought a flashlight with us, man,” Jay said.

“What do we need a flashlight for? There’s a full moon tonight,” Butch told him.

“Yeah, where’s your sense of adventure?” Tiffany giggled, and clutched at Danny’s arm as she stumbled over a rock in the path. She’d obviously started the party early, as was her habit.

“Do you know what they call the moon that rises this time of the year? The Bone Moon.”

“C’mon Ashleigh, don’t start that mystic shit tonight,” Jay begged. He tightened his grip on the cooler he and Danny were carrying between them. A hard enough job without Tiffany clinging to Danny – ghost stories would just make her cling worse.

“Fine! But just remember I tried to warn you.” Ashleigh tossed her hair back and moved ahead on the path so she was directly behind Butch and Lisa. Jay just sighed in exasperation.

“Chill you guys,” Butch said. “We’re almost there.”

The trees thinned out completely and they found themselves at the top of a cliff.

“Watch your step now,” Butch said, and led the way downwards.

The rocks gave way to a fine, white sand. The moon cast more than enough light to see the empty crates Butch had dragged down earlier in the day to use for seating. He’d also gathered a respectable pile of firewood and dug a fire pit.

“Danny, you want to start the fire while Jay and I break out the beer?” Butch had just had his birthday, which took all the fun out of going on a beer run.

The driftwood was dry and caught fire easily. Jay handed Butch a beer and took his place in the semi circle around the fire pit, looking out over the ocean. “This is great, man,” he said. “The perfect way to celebrate the end of the summer.”

“I’m cold,” Lisa whined. She wasn’t really, but she didn’t like it when Butch’s attention wandered away from her for too long.

Butch put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll keep you warm.”

“We’re not going to get into trouble for being here, are we?”

“Stop being such a drag, Lisa,” Tiffany told her. “No one ever comes here, so no one’s going to catch us.”

“I wonder why,” Danny said. “This place is great – nice and secluded, and just look at all that beach.”

“I think I can answer that, young fella,” a voice called out of the dark, startling the six trespassers.

“Jesus! Give a warning next time, would you?” Butch snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

An old man stepped closer to the fire. His face was lined and his bristly beard was white. The clothes he wore had definitely seen better days, as had the leather boots on his feet.

“Name’s Henry. I was beach combing down thataways earlier today and fell asleep when I went to take a break. Just on my way home. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Wait, Henry,” Danny called as the old man shambled past them and into the dark again. “You said you could tell us why no one comes here. Why don’t you join us for a beer, maybe tell us the story?”

“Well, I suppose a beer or two couldn’t hurt,” Henry said, shuffling back over. Jay and Danny made space between them for him to sit down and Butch handed him a beer. The girls looked at each other and Lisa shrugged.

Henry took a swig of his beer and then started his story. “Well, it would have been about fifty years ago this happened.” he glanced up at the moon and back down again. “Would have been fifty years ago exactly, on the night of the Bone Moon.”

“See?” Ashleigh dug her elbow into Jay’s ribs. “I told you it was the Bone Moon tonight.”

“Quiet,” he told her, earning a scowl from her. Lisa shivered and huddled closer to Butch, which suited Butch just fine.

“This was a popular spot back then, especially with the teenagers wanting to have a little privacy, if you get my drift.”

Butch tightened his hold on Lisa and grinned.

“There was this group of teenagers, not much younger than you lot, who decided to spend the night on the beach, celebrating the end of summer or some such nonsense. Next morning, the first ones arriving on the beach found what was left of them.”

“What was left of them?” Ashleigh asked, no longer as enthralled with being right.

“There was the bones of one of the boys, all tied up nice and neat with some twine, but all that was left of the others was their skulls.”

“Oh my God,” Tiffany said, inching closer to Danny. “What happened to them?”

Henry shrugged. “No one knows. There was no footprints, no blood, nothing. Not even a sign of a struggle. Just the tied up bones and skulls. But . . .” his voice trailed off.

“But what?” Danny asked.

“There was this legend . . .”

“What legend?” Lisa asked, fascinated in spite of herself.

“This here,” Henry gestured in a wide arc around them, “is called Imp’s Cove, ‘cause there was said to be an imp bound to it. You know what an imp is, one of the devil’s minions. Every fifty years, under the light of the Bone Moon, the imp needs to feed.”

“And they think it ate those people?” Tiffany asked, eyes wide in the moonlight. “All of them?”

“Bones and all,” Henry nodded. “Except for the skulls. You’d be mighty hungry too if you only ate once every fifty years.”

“Yuck! That story is just creepy – if it’s even true,” Ashleigh said with a shiver.

“But why didn’t he eat the bones of the last one,” Danny asked. “Why leave the bones all tied up?”

“The imp feeds on fear just as much as he feeds on flesh,” Henry said, looking at each one of them in turn. “He ties up the strongest of the lot, ‘cause their fear is the richest, and lets them watch while he feasts on the others. Then he sucks the fear filled flesh off the bones.”

“I don’t get it,” Butch said. He took a long pull on his bottle of beer. “Why wouldn’t the others just run away?”

“They couldn’t,” Henry said, the moonlight reflecting off his eyes. At least Butch thought it was the moonlight. But the moon was behind the old man.

There was no sound from the others. Butch tried to move his head to look at them, but it was like he was frozen in place. Horrified understanding filled him as Henry’s form began to elongate, to morph into something inhuman, something with slick, grey/green skin.

“It’s all right if you want to scream,” the creature said in Henry’s voice. “There’s no one else to hear, and I quite enjoy a little music with my dinner.”

Spice of Life Part VII Cloves

Description:
Cloves are the reddish brown flower buds of the clove tree [syzygium aromaticum], a tropical evergreen tree of the myrtle [myrtaceae] family. In stores it can be found in both whole and ground forms. The flavour is strong, hot, and pungent.

It goes well with allspice, bay, cardamom, cinnamon, fennel, ginger, and nutmeg and is used in recipes around the world, particularly in Middle Eastern, Indian, and North American cooking. Because of its strong flavour a little goes a long way and should be used sparingly. It’s delicious in baked goods and pies, and also pairs well in savory foods, particularly rice dishes, spicy meat dishes, and curries.

History:
Archaeological evidence has the first appearance of cloves dating back to 1721 BC, where cloves were found in a ceramic vessel from Syria. In 200 BC emissaries from Java are recorded having brought cloves to the courts of China, where it was used to freshen the breath of those seeking audience with the emperor. There is evidence that cloves were found in Rome in 1 AD, Egypt in 176 AD, and Sri Lanka in 900 AD.

Native to the Indonesian Spice Islands, during the Middle Ages cloves were traded by Arabs in the Indian Ocean trade. Late in the 15th century, Portugal took over the trade and brought cloves to Europe where it became a valuable commodity. The Dutch took over the spice trade in the 17th century and kept a tight control over the production of the spice to keep it rare and therefore profitable. In the 18th century the French managed to introduce the clove tree to Guiana, Brazil, the West Indies, and Zanzibar, thus breaking the Dutch monopoly. Today, Indonesia is still the world’s largest producer of cloves.

Medicinal Uses:
Like many of the warmer spices, cloves contain eugenol, which is a natural antioxidant. Antioxidants help prevent diseases such as heart disease, diabetes, and even cancer. The eugenol found in oil of cloves is also a natural analgesic and antiseptic, and is used for relief from a toothache or as a remedy for colds coughs, fever, and sore throat. Topically, oil of cloves is used on acne, warts, and scars. It may can help lower blood sugar and supports liver health.

Other Uses:
Clove cigarettes, often to be considered more of a cigar, are smoked throughout Europe, Asia, and the United States. The bioactive chemicals of cloves make it an effective an ant repellent – my aunt used to scatter cloves throughout her trailer when she was winterizing it to keep pests away. The effective component of cloves, eugenol, is often used in germicides, perfumes, and mouthwashes. An orange, studded with cloves, was often given as a yuletide gift and even now is used as a seasonal decoration


Recipes:

Hot Toddy

Ingredients
1 ½ tsp honey
1 ½ tsp lemon juice
1 tsp sugar syrup
1 ½ ounces scotch whiskey
3 cloves
boiling water

Instructions
Warm a mug or heatproof glass. Add the whisky, lemon juice, syrup, cloves and honey. Top up with boiling water and garnish with a lemon skewered with cloves and a cinnamon stick. Give it a quick stir and serve immediately.

You can also simmer whole cloves in boiling water for 5–10 minutes to make a soothing cup of clove tea.

Spiced Pork Tenderloin

Ingredients
1 1/2 pounds pok tenderloin
1 tablespoon fine sea salt
1 tablespoon ground black pepper
2 teaspoons nutmeg
2 teaspoons ground cloves
Zest of one orange
Cooking Spray

Instructions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Coat a baking dish with cooking spray, making sure that the dish is large enough to allow room around the tenderloin.
In a small bowl, combine sea salt, pepper, nutmeg, cloves ,and orange zest. Rub all over pork tenderloin and place in the baking dish.
Bake uncovered for 35-40 minutes or until thickest portion registers are 155-160 degrees. Allow to rest for 5 minutes before slicing into 1-inch pieces.

Depressing Thoughts

Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.
― Stephen Fry

That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end.
― Elizabeth Wurtzel

I’ve often said I’m weather driven. The last couple of weeks haven’t always been rainy, but they have been grey and dismal. And too much grey and dismal weather tends to kick my depression into high gear, which makes it hard to get anything done, let alone anything creative.

A couple of days are okay, but more than three in a row and my mood starts to tank. Then my energy goes as the depression hits. Sometimes all you can do is just hunker down, acknowledge you’re not going to have a productive time, and hope that it passes quickly.

But this has been dragging on for a while now, and it’s like slogging through mud to get anything done. Basic things, like getting up in the morning, having a shower, doing something with my day other than sitting in my recliner playing games on the lap top.

This weekend is a little different because it’s the holiday weekend and I’m expecting family for dinner tonight. Not a huge number of guests, but a huge dinner. So I’ve had to suck it up to get things ready – do it whether I feel like it or not. And you know what? I still felt like crap, but the things that needed to get done got done. I just wish this would translate to creative endeavours.

Add to this it’s allergy season. A really bad season for allergies. So I’ve been taking allergy medicine which not only makes me tired, but I have a hard time focusing on the computer screen too. But it’s a catch 22, because if I don’t take the allergy medicine I get wicked headaches as my sinuses fill up.

Are you feeling sorry for me yet? LOL

Nevertheless, I may not have done any writing, but editing was another matter. I finished the read through (with minor edits) on Magickal Mayhem and it is now in the hands of my first reader/editor/word wizard.

I wrote no poetry this week – it seems to be feast or famine with me where poetry is concerned, doesn’t it? Then again, it’s not surprising seeing as the creative black hole I’m in seems to be getting deeper by the day.

I haven’t even been doing a lot of reading. I finished Blackbird House, by Alice Hoffman and it was a really cool concept for an anthology. I managed to track down a used copy of The Green Man, another anthology by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, but I’ve barely cracked it open.

The Week Ahead . . .

If I hadn’t started my spice series with Turmeric, I would have been right on track doing all of the ingredients for Pumpkin Spice before Thanksgiving. Cloves aren’t always used in it though, so I don’t feel too bad saving it for this week.

Despite my distinct lack of creative mojo, I’m still determined to start writing every day – a one word prompt, a flash prompt,something. Or maybe, at long last, I can pick one of my unfinished projects and . . . finish it.

It’s even more important to get back into the writing habit now – next week I’m going to a writing retreat. It started out as the Spring Thaw when I paid for it at the beginning of 2020, but now it’s Writescape. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it. If nothing else, maybe it will give my creativity a kick start.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Magickal Mayhem

In honour of finishing the edits on Magickal Mayhem (AKA Blood Ties, AKA Wandering Wizards) I thought I’d post an excerpt from it today. It’s still a mess, and it’s still too long, but it’s getting there.

Now that I won’t be so single minded about editing, I’m hoping to get back to my daily prompts – it’s been a while since I’ve done any of them and I kind of miss them. The best part about that would be I can start posting something fresh here each week.

Anyway, to set this scene up . . . Howard figured out a way to transport himself to the magickal realm, accidentally pulling Ellen along with them. They ended up in the Darkwood Elven Realm and, along with the bard Sebastian and the elven guard Kaelan, are on their way to meet up with Jessica and Dominic. As you’ll see from this scene (I hope) Ellen and Kaelan are developing a bit of a mutual crush.

Stretching upwards, she whispered to Epona, “Do you think you could move up beside Kaelan please?”

Epona’s ear twitched and she whickered, but her stride lengthened.

“Thank you,” Ellen whispered.

Kaelan looked over at her in surprise. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Ellen said, trying to control her blush response. “I was just curious about the Wild Woods Realm. Is it like the Darkwood Forest Realm?”

“No,” he shook his head. “For one thing it is much smaller and there is no city as there is in Darkwood, just a handful of villages and a town in the center. Truthfully, it has been a long time since I have been there.”

“You don’t visit your family there?”

“The visits became fewer as I became older. There never seemed to be time.”

Ellen was trying to picture Kaelan as a child. She’d bet he was just as cute as a little kid. Elf. Whatever.

“Didn’t your mother’s family ever visit you in Darkwood?”

“My mother’s family did not wish her to marry my father, despite the fact he would be able to provide well for her. To marry meant she would leave them.”

“But love will out,” Ellen guessed.

He glanced over at her. “It did indeed. They have been very happy and my mother never regretted her decision to follow her heart.” Smiling, he faced forward again. “My father says they met when he was delivering a set of silver gauntlets to the lord of the Wild Woods Realm. There was a festival and he was invited to stay over for it. Mother was with a group of young women who kept fawning over him, supposedly because he was from outside the realm. Mother was the worst of the lot and wouldn’t leave him alone until he danced with her. After that she was determined to make him hers and chased off every other woman who approached. Apparently the magic was strong in her blood. By the end of the evening he truly was hers, heart and soul.”

Ellen laughed. “And what does your mother say?”

“Ah. Mother claims this cheeky apprentice silversmith noticed the setting up for the festival and wheedled an invitation from the lord of the realm, who gave it to him only because he was so impressed by the quality of his work. He was making such a nuisance of himself, pestering all the young women for dances, that she took pity on her friends and made the supreme sacrifice of dancing with him herself. By the end of the festival he proved his way with silver also included a silver tongue, because he sweet-talked her into running away with him.”

“And which story do you believe to be true?”

“The one that my grandmother tells, that my mother noticed my father lurking on the fringes of the merry-makers and, feeling sorry for him, went over to see if she could convince him to join in. From the moment their eyes met they were lost to each other, and my grandmother knew she had lost her daughter, but gained a son.”

“I think I like your grandmother’s version best,” Ellen said with a smile.

“And your parents?” Kaelan asked, genuinely interested. “You said they were from very different cultures, how did they meet?”

“Now that’s a story in itself,” she said. “They were friends growing up – their parents lived next door to each other.”

Kaelan nodded. “Ah. So they knew from the beginning they were meant to be together.”

“Actually, no. My father spent his senior year in Japan, studying the martial arts with one of his uncles. My mother went off to university where she became involved with one of her professors. She was very young, and far away from home, and he swept her off her feet. They had an affair and when she ended up pregnant he married her.”

“Your father is not your mother’s husband?”

“He is, but it happened later.” Ellen had to smile at his confused look. “Mom finished school right before she gave birth to twin boys. There was a lot of friction between her and George, her first husband. He wanted her to stay home and look after the boys, she wanted to put her degree to good use. Before she could find a job in her field – art restoration – she found out she was pregnant again.”

“How many siblings do you have?” he asked in surprise.

“Four – two sets of twin brothers.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Elves bear only one child at a time, and we are not a prolific race. My mother is considered a wonder for having three children.”

“I don’t think mom was really happy having the boys so close together. In fact, from what I can gather it wasn’t a happy marriage at all. But it didn’t last long. She was still pregnant with the second set of twins when her husband died unexpectedly. She ended up moving back home with her parents – who were thrilled to have a houseful of children.”

“Children are a blessing,” Kaelan murmured, “no matter the circumstances.”

“That’s exactly what my grandparents believed,” she said with a smile. “My father returned from Japan just after the second set of twins were born, fell in love with her all over again, and they were married a year later.”

“He must be quite the man, to take on four children not his own.”

“He is,” she said proudly. She couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think if he could see her now. Would he be proud? Or appalled?

Spice of Life Part VI Pumpkin Spice

Description:
This fragrant spice blends together cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and allspice. In the beginning it was used pretty much exclusively to give flavor to the somewhat bland pumpkin being used in pies, but when McCormick’s began selling it commercially in the early 1950s the name got shortened to pumpkin spice and it began to see a wider range of uses.

With the blend made more convenient, people began to put it into other foods as well as beverages. As well as pies, you can use pumpkin spice in cookies, cakes, vegetables, stews, and fall soups, such as squash soup. It’s delicious sprinkled on oatmeal, or used in pancakes.

To make your own pumpkin spice, combine ¼ cup of ground cinnamon with 2 tablespoons of ground ginger, 2 teaspoons of ground nutmeg, 2 teaspoons of ground cloves, and 2 teaspoons of ground allspice.

History:
Like the spices used in this blend, pumpkin spice got its start with the Dutch East India company when it was known simply as “mixed spice.” Cookbooks from the late 1700s included it as an ingredient for pumpkin pie.

In 1934, McComick introduced the blend as “pumpkin pie spice” since it was intended to enhance the flavour of pumpkin pie. In the 1960s the name was shortened to pumpkin spice. In the 1990s, other coffee companies began to experiment with adding pumpkin spice to their coffees, but it wasn’t until 2002, when Starbucks created their Pumpkin Spice Latte that pumpkin spice hit its stride.

By 2015 people had become obsessed with pumpkin spice and it began to dominate the fall season in everything from scented candles to take-out coffees. By 2018, pumpkin spice was a $600 million industry.

Medicinal Uses:
The spices that make up pumpkin spice have been shown to be beneficial to your health: cinnamon is excellent for balancing blood sugar levels; ginger is highly anti-inflammatory and supports immune health; nutmeg and cloves are rich in antioxidants, plus they have anti-viral and anti-microbial actions; and allspice has anti-bacterial and anti-cancer properties. However, when pumpkin spice is used as flavoring in lattes or processed foods there are often artificial flavors, sugars, and fats that are added.


Recipes:

Pumpkin Spice Latte

Ingredients

1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons pumpkin puree
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
1/2 cup (4oz / 115g) strong brewed coffee
1/2 cups (4oz / 115g) milk

Instructions
Add all ingredients to a saucepan.
Stir and bring to a simmer.
Pour into a mug.
Decorate with freshly whipped cream and a sprinkles of pumpkin pie spice or cinnamon.


Libby’s Pumpkin Pie

Ingredients
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
2 large eggs
1 can (15 ounces) LIBBY'S® 100% Pure Pumpkin
1 can (12 fluid ounces) evaporated milk
1 unbaked 9-inch (4-cup volume) deep-dish pie shell

Step 1 Mix sugar, cinnamon, salt, ginger and cloves in small bowl. Beat eggs in large bowl. Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture. Gradually stir in evaporated milk.
Step 2
Pour into pie shell.
Step 3
Bake in preheated 425° F oven for 15 minutes. Reduce temperature to 350° F; bake for 40 minutes or until knife inserted near center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for 2 hours. Serve immediately or refrigerate.
This is the recipe my family traditionally uses, taken right off the back of the can’s label.

Destination vs. Journey

When you reach the end of what you should know, you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.
― Kahlil Gibrán, Sand and Foam

The end of THE END is the best place to begin THE END, because if you read THE END from the beginning of the beginning of THE END to the end of the end of THE END, you will arrive at the end.
― Lemony Snicket, The End

If I have one complaint about my Kindle, it’s that it makes it hard to skip to the end of a book. You know, how when you think you know how the story turns out and you skip to the end to see if you’re right? Oh, come on. You know you do it too.

And yes, I know that it’s probably not a problem with your Kindle, but mine is something like 10 years old (I think it’s a third generation, with the keyboard) and it works just fine as long as I don’t try to update it. Plus it has a great deal of sentimental value, so I won't be replacing it any time soon. Unless I absolutely have to.

But I digress. We were talking about skipping to the end of books. I’ve always done this – not with every book, mostly with romances to see if things work out the way I think they should. They usually do, but not always. Sometimes I just skip ahead a few chapters to see if I figured out the way things are going to unfold.

I had a writer I did editing for who was so appalled I’d do such a thing that she threatened to withhold the last chapter from me when I did work for her and I had to solemnly swear I would not skip to the end of any of her books. It was an easy promise to keep because her books were so predictable I didn’t need to skip to the end. LOL

She claimed it ruins the story if you know how it ends, but I’ve never found that to be the case. Maybe that’s why in my writing I don’t start writing a book unless I have an idea of how it’s going to end. Like the saying goes, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that counts.

I know there are people out there who only read a book once, and I don’t understand them at all. While there’s nothing better than a new book, I can enjoy re-reading an old favorite just as much. It’s like re-watching a favorite movie or T.V. series – you pick up details you hadn’t noticed previously and it makes the story almost like new.

Speaking of new, I started reading a new book this week. I finished Teeth by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, a refreshing take on vampire stories, and The Dressmakers of Auschwitz by Lucy Adlington, a powerful book on the holocaust. Now I’m reading Blackbird House, by Alice Hoffman. It’s not a single story, like I expected, but a series of stories about the different people who’ve lived in the title house over several generations.

Aside from blog posts, I wrote a handful of poems, four of which were to illustrate the poetry form I showcased on Friday. BUT I’m just about finished marking up my draft copy of Magickal Mayhem. I’ll easily get the last few pages finished today and then I can start making the changes to the electronic copy. And once that’s finished it’ll be sent off to my good buddy so she can tell me how much it sucks. :-)

The Week Ahead . . .

It’s October now, and you know what that means. All things pumpkin. So my spice of the week will come as no surprise to you.

Now that the edits on Magickal Mayhem are finished the pressure of getting it done so I can move on to other things is gone. Next up is An Elemental Spirit, which pretty much needs to be rewritten, not just edited.

I’m also still determined to start writing every day – a one word prompt, a flash prompt, something. Or maybe, considering last week’s post on finishing things, I can pick one of my unfinished projects and . . . finish it.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Gogyoka

When I designated the first Friday of the month as poetry day, I didn’t intend to present a new form each month, it’s just worked out this way. :-)

The Gogyoka, pronounced go-gee-yoh-kuh, is a relatively new poem, a Japanese form created by Enta Kusakabe in the late 1950s. This five line poem was inspired by the tanka, but without the strict syllable count.

There are few rules of the Gogyoka. It should have five lines, with line breaks occurring naturally when you’d pause for a breath. It does not rhyme, but each line should represent one phrase and it can be written on any subject.

If you’re new to poetry, and want to get your feet wet, this is a great form to get you started.


What kind of
stained glass
have your
rose-coloured cheeks
passed through

Enta Kusakabe


My examples:

Feel the thoughts churn
see the ink flow
meaningful and meaningless
brought together
in a flood of words.

She sits on a park bench
reading a book of poetry
stopping after each poem
to stare out over the water
and contemplate

A storm is coming
wind blows howling
naked trees shiver
electric flashes in the sky
thunder booms

Sunrise beckons in red and orange
hunger roars, waiting to be satiated
hot butter sizzling in the pan
breakfast wafting in my nose
bacon and coffee competing on my tongue

As you can see, once you get started it’s hard to stop. Why don’t you give it a try and find out for yourself?