Random facts stalkers don’t know…

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I grew up in a tough neighborhood. (don’t stereotype me)

I was in a band. (for about 5 minutes)

I was in a few movies. (another 5 minutes)

I wrote my first “novel”at the age of 11. (an angst ridden piece about a girl who is kidnapped because she witnessed a crime)

I was actually kidnapped. (not at 11/that story is waiting for publication)

I always have wanted to own a Munster-like house.

I’ve gotten lost in every major city I’ve ever been (including abroad. Trust me when I say every country/every city has neighborhoods you don’t want to be lost in at dusk)

I keep a lot of random facts as well as insignificant details in my brain. (jokes don’t stick tho)

now the stalkers know – don’t be a stalker….

Free Reading for the Holidays

Dad Shining is available for free now on Kindle Unlimited.   Enjoy!

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“Through the blue hills and green mountains of West Virginia, there’s a cemetery with my name on it. It’s in the back country where paved roads have yet to enter. The dirt and pebbled pathways are unnamed; the towns, if they can be called that, carry only the names of their settlers. In some cases, the families are long lost to graves and the names are an unsure mixture of dialect and history. But our name has carried through, strong, certain, alone on the trail that leads to the family church, the family land, and there, next to the chapel, the family graveyard.”

Free book?

 

poe party

 

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

Mother’s Day is a Celebration of Life

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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.

 

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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.

 

Grandma’s Tour

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My Poem, “Grandma’s Tour” will be published in Pilcrow & Dagger’s November/December issue!

This is especially poignant as my grandmother passed in August of this year. She wrote poetry herself and left me her book of touching, handwritten poems.  It is one of my treasured texts.

  I think she would’ve liked this poem. I’m saddened she didn’t get to read it or see it published in her honor.