Another ten days to two weeks and – Here in the Silence – my book of short stories will be available.
AND – there will be a chance to win free copies!
Check back for details!
Category: Random
When I killed my neighbor’s dog….
Maybe I was having a dream, maybe I heard a noise in the driveway, maybe I heard any of the assorted dogs in the neighborhood barking, whatever it was that woke me up at 3 a.m. on a weekday morning, that line was zinging in my head.
As I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, I wondered where else that line might go. So, I let it lead me, take me wherever it might go.
I thought maybe I’d make a mental note, write it the next day, maybe take physical notes on the notebook next to my bed and finish it after work.
Then, by 4 a.m., with the story unwinding itself to me, I got out of bed. I took my notebook into the dining room, turned on the light and wrote.
By 5:30, I’d finished the majority of the first draft and started to get ready for work.
“Of Strays and Exes” was a departure for me – it’s snarky, ironic, almost funny.
So, don’t judge me too harshly, ladies and gentlemen, apart from the first line, the story is actually about the connection and disconnection we do throughout our lives in relationships and with the people (and critters) around us.
The story is available in New Beginnings by Pilcrow and Dagger.
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Free book?
Ladies and gentlemen,
My book of short stories should be out in another month – I’ll have two advance copies to give away.
There will be a very easy one question contest, and then a drawing (done by a third party) from all of the correct answers.
The official announcement and contest will begin in the next few weeks – keep checking back or sign up to receive updates!
Thanks,
Noreen
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Mother’s Day is a Celebration of Life
My grandmother, Ruth, on my father’s side, died before I was born. I never knew her. I’m told she lived in Los Angeles for some time; perhaps that is why I feel so at home here. When I arrived here so many years ago, I felt like I was coming home.
My grandmother, Mary, aka Amelia, passed less than a year ago. A week after she passed, I received the notification from Pilcrow & Dagger they were publishing the poem I’d written years before, inspired by her visit to L.A. My grandmother used to write poetry – she left me her book of poems; it is a treasure!
My mother lives in Ohio. She made the best cookies – still does! Mom – send me some! J
Then there’s me – Not to be cliché, but my life started when I had my daughters. It’s when I got serious about life, when I formed real ideas about priorities, when I started thinking of people other than myself.
My girls and myself
Grandma’s Tour
It’s Christmas day.
She wants to see where she thinks
Marilyn’s body lies.
She doesn’t understand the tomb in a wall,
a name on a plaque.
She wants to touch the same dirt
Marilyn’s body touches.
I show her Jack Lemmon’s
“In” –
She wants to see the thirteen year old
from Poltergeist.
Another plaque on the wall.
Grandma is flustered,
she doesn’t want to be encased in eye-level marble,
an uncertain burial, she wants to rot
in the dirt, she says,
the natural way.
It’s Christmas day and my daughters
want to know why we’re at a graveyard.
My little one is writing down names
and dates,
an attempt to, once again, give the long dead
significance.
The older one won’t come close
She uneases herself along the edges of
the grass, the crypts,
the fresh dirt.
Unwilling to let the dead touch.
She’s taken an impromptu dislike to grandma
who is weeping.
It’s Christmas day and she expected
the movie stars to rot in the dirt,
like she will, she says,
but even in death, they are distinct.
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One Dollar, please.
On the heels of my April Fools publication of “Fairly Tale,” I’ve heard from The Chicago Tribune’s Printers Row Journal: They will publish my story titled “$1.00 Stories”!
A homeless man is selling stories for $1.00; will you buy one? C.C. does……
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Fairly Tale
My poem, Fairly Tale, will appear in April Fools’. Here is the Video Preview for April Fools’.
Isn’t the cover great?!
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Fairly Tale…..
Dreams of Mr. Rabbit was based on something real – but isn’t all poetry? I’ve been in contact with the man who inspired that poem – he asked me to read it to him. He said hearing me read it, hearing my voice recite those words, helped him understand something that he’d never understood before.
Fairly Tale – which will be published next month – is similar in theme, but about a completely different experience and man.
For many of us, fairy tales are our first introduction to literature, our fist introduction to love; therefore, subverting these themes, bending them out of shape to fit the world we live in and the experiences we live through seems to come quite naturally.
Endings are good and bad. Most of the time, even the bad endings are for the best.
…..
You break into a thousand angels
……….
My poem, Fairly Tale, will be published in April Fools next month – No kidding!
photo by Nicholas Valentin
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Of course, I have a cat
Aren’t writers suppose to have cats? Isn’t there a law or something?
This is Mr. Hops. Hopper’s mum passed away soon after he was born, leaving him and his sister orphans. They were bottle fed, kept in a basket where my dog watched over them. Hopper’s little sister, Squeaky, died a few years ago, but Hops is still going quite strong.
Mr. Hops prefers not to be photographed. He’s a big boy with a loud meow, and he likes to wake me at 5am for breakfast and cuddles.
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Dreams…..
Is Mike a Ghost? The Supernatural in West End
I was asked, recently, if Mike, the character from West End who disappeared as a teenager and reappeared to the narrator was a ghost.
According to Dr. McAndrew, in the article “Why Some People See Ghosts and Other Presences,” people may see spirits when they “have become isolated in an extreme or unusual environment, often when high levels of stress are involved. These individuals report a perception or feeling that another person is there to help them cope…”
The main character in West End is isolated and in an unusual environment when Mike arrives. She’s not certain she saw him with the soldiers, just that there were soldiers and she never looks at faces, so she states.
McAndrew further states: “The loneliness and isolation, coupled with high levels of stress and unchanging sensory stimulation, might very well produce the same biological conditions that could trigger a “visit” from the recently departed.”
The narrator in West End claims to find comfort in this non-existence she has found. She left home because of the stress which she was unable to handle; she is now surrounded by, so it seems, an unchanging environment without stimulation. Then, suddenly, Mike is there.
What do you think – is Mike a ghost?
Noreen Lace 
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