Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Saturday, June 09, 2018
"Country Life"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Friday, June 08, 2018
"Unexpected"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Thursday, June 07, 2018
"Random Act of Kindness"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Wednesday, June 06, 2018
"Autumn Sonnet"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Tuesday, June 05, 2018
"Naked Scalloped Potatoes"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Monday, June 04, 2018
"Incident on Orwell Street"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Sunday, June 03, 2018
"Melting Away"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Saturday, June 02, 2018
"The Thanksgiving Tree"
Enjoy this new anthology from the Prosateurs! Inside its covers, you'll find short stories, recipes, humor, articles, memoirs, and more!
Friday, June 01, 2018
New Anthology Released!
OKLAHOMA—The writing group Prosateurs announces the
publication of the judged anthology Prosateurs:
Tales & Truth. The anthology features short stories, recipes, humor, memoirs,
poetry, devotionals, articles, and other works from the group’s members. It’s
now available from Prosateurs members and online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble,
BooksAMillion, and other retailers.
Author Kathy Akins won Best of the Book with a memoir of her
mother’s battle with dementia. “It was honest, sincere, and well-written,” said
Submissions Judge Gail Henderson. “A reader both sympathizes and learns from
it.”
Purchase on Barnes & Noble here!
Purchase on BooksAMillion here!
Purchase on Lulu here!
Author Kathy Akins won Best of the Book with a memoir of her
mother’s battle with dementia. “It was honest, sincere, and well-written,” said
Submissions Judge Gail Henderson. “A reader both sympathizes and learns from
it.”
Henderson co-wrote the poetry collection Undying. She collaborated with noted
Oklahoma photographer Michael Duncan to produce Bare, a book of poetry and photography that explores the enigma of
womanhood in the world. She wrote Red
Bird Woman, a collection of her poetry under the name Gail Wood. Her work
has appeared in Blackbirds First Flight,
Blackbirds Second Flight, Blackbirds Third Flight, Creations 2012-2014 and ByLine Magazine. She holds a Masters of
Education in English and Social Studies from East Central University. Currently
she serves on the Board of Directors for Lake Superior Writers, Duluth,
Minnesota.
For more information, visit Prosateurs.blogspot.com.
Purchase on Amazon here!Purchase on Barnes & Noble here!
Purchase on BooksAMillion here!
Purchase on Lulu here!
The anthology authors include:
Kathy Akins has won several awards with her poetry,
devotionals, and short fiction. Her works were published in Blackbirds Third Flight and the Creations
anthologies 2014-2015. A love for history, family, and animals inspires her
stories. She lives in Oklahoma and shares her home with miniature long-haired
dachshunds and a rescued Catahoula. Her dachshunds assist her when she presents
educational programs for children in her capacity as an American Kennel Club
(AKC) Canine Ambassador. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.,
Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and American Christian
Fiction Writers. Visit kathyakins.blogspot.com.
Debbie Anderson wrote the novel Friend or Foe in 2018. A longtime storyteller, she has written
stories since she was a child. The oldest of eight children she used these
stories to entertain her siblings. She spent eighteen years in the travel
industry. As a result she has been to nearly every state and six countries. She
left the travel business after 9/11. Since then she has written business
documents such as manuals and procedures for the electronic and oil industries.
She writes short stories, memoirs, novels, children’s stories, and how-to
books. She has been published in Creations
2017.
Stephen B. Bagley co-wrote the poetry collection Undying. He wrote Murder by Dewey Decimal, Murder by the Acre, Tales from Bethlehem, Floozy
and Other Stories, and EndlesS.
He wrote the plays Murder at the Witch’s
Cottage and Two Writers in the Hands
of an Angry God and co-wrote Turnabout,
Hogwild, and There’s A Body in the Closet. His writings have appeared in Writer’s Digest, Blackbirds First Flight,
Blackbirds Second Flight, Blackbirds Third Flight, ByLine Magazine, Nautilus
Magazine, Tulsa World OKMagazine, and other publications. He graduated from
Oklahoma State University. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Visit StephenBBagley.blogspot.com.
Kelley Benson is a pastor who has a passion for using
everyday opportunities to help people recognize how God works in their lives.
He and his wife Jade are raising their
children to see how God should be part of everything people do. Since
1997, he has participated in a wide range of ministries and been involved with
the investment industry, the insurance industry, teaching, and carpentry. He
published On Target, a book of
devotionals, and writes a weekly newsletter. His articles were published in
Creations 2013-2015. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. Visit kelleybenson.blogspot.com.
Nita Beshear began writing as a young child. If her family
wasn't moving from one state to another, they were moving across town. Stories
gave her continuity. Her friends in her stories went with her to every new home.
Beshear writes nonfiction, historical novels, and short stories. Her books
include Devoted to Quilting and Beyond the Grief: A Widow's Survival Guide.
Her fiction appeared in Romance-The Spice
of Life. She is a member of the Material Girls (the Allen Oklahoma
Quilters), McAlester McSherry Writers, Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc., and Duncan
and Okmulgee Toastmasters. Visit nitabeshear.wordpress.com.
Wendy Blanton published the novels, The Dragon’s Lady, Rogue Pawn, and Sword and Scabbard, under the name Elizabeth Joy. Her short stories
appeared in Blackbirds First Flight,
Blackbirds Second Flight, and Blackbirds
Third Flight. She writes novels and short stories in several genres. She graduated
from the University of Mount Olive, North Carolina, and served in the United
States Air Force. An apprentice bard, she tells Celtic folk tales at Scottish
Highland Games and other venues. She and her husband are members of the Clan
Campbell Society. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. Visit wendyblanton.wordpress.com.
D. E. Chandler wrote the thriller Bone Sliver. In 2013, her poem, “Oppenheimer” and her short story
“One Way Window” won honorable mention and publication in Outside the Lines. In
2015, her poem “Carroll After Dark” won first place and publication in the
Tulsa Review’s 2015 Spring contest issue. Her works were also published in Blackbirds Third Flight, The Green Country
Guardian, The Sapulpa Herald, and Sapulpa
News and Views. She graduated from Rogers State University. She lives with
her husband Tom in Oklahoma. She is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation,
Inc. and Oklahoma Women Bloggers. Visit dechandlerwrites.com.
Barbara Shepherd has received more than 300 writing awards.
She is the Oklahoma 2017 Voice of the Fair Poet, a Lone Stars Poet, a Woody
Guthrie Poet, and a former Nominee for Poet Laureate of the State of Oklahoma.
Shepherd served as a field editor for Taste of Home and contributed to other
magazines, including: Outlook, Oklahoma
D.O., Oklahoma Woman, Edmond Life and Leisure, Bella, and ArtBeat. Her books include: The Potbelly Pig Promise, River Bend,
Vittles and Vignettes, and Patchwork
Skin. Her writing appeared in: Women’s
War Memoirs, Heavenly Patchwork, Voices In Time, and numerous other publications.
Visit barbarashepherd.com.
Joanne Verbridge was born in Oakland, California, spending
her early life experiences in Northern California. Family brought her to Oklahoma
where she enjoys writing memoirs and crafting. She works to inspire her young
nieces to take an interest in story telling and writing. Her memoirs, short
stories, and articles have been published in Oklahoma newspapers and in the Creations
anthologies 2012-2015.
Thursday, May 03, 2018
How to say it
A friend asked me how to pronounce "Prosateurs."
It's "Pros uh tours."
It simply means "a writer of prose."
It's "Pros uh tours."
It simply means "a writer of prose."
Wednesday, May 02, 2018
Motto
You may have noticed that the motto of this blog has changed. It was "No good deed goes unpunished or revenged." It's now Hay que poner un poco de locura a veces en la cordura. Translated: "You sometimes need to interject a little madness into the sanity."
I came across this Cuban saying in a recent Smithsonian article about historian Eusebio Leal who lay down in front of steamrollers to keep them from asphalting over a rare wooden street. That took place in 1967. Leal is now the official historian of the city of Havana and responsible for saving many historical buildings and revitalizing Havana. An amazing man, but I'm not sure I would think of him as insane as much as driven.
Another word for driven is committed. I think anyone in a creative endeavor has to have that commitment. We only have so much time in this world; every choice we make means another choice isn't made. Our choices have to move us toward our goals, whether it's to write a book or paint a landscape or save a building.
I came across this Cuban saying in a recent Smithsonian article about historian Eusebio Leal who lay down in front of steamrollers to keep them from asphalting over a rare wooden street. That took place in 1967. Leal is now the official historian of the city of Havana and responsible for saving many historical buildings and revitalizing Havana. An amazing man, but I'm not sure I would think of him as insane as much as driven.
Another word for driven is committed. I think anyone in a creative endeavor has to have that commitment. We only have so much time in this world; every choice we make means another choice isn't made. Our choices have to move us toward our goals, whether it's to write a book or paint a landscape or save a building.
Although I do think getting in front of a steamroller in Cuba--not a place that encourages civil disobedience even now--might have a touch of insanity about it. Or maybe an overwhelming commitment.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Coming in May!
This should go on sale in May. Don't have the exact date, but will share, of course, when I do. It has a couple of articles and short stories in it by me. Excited to see my works among the others. The submissions judge did a great job in selecting the best from the submissions. (Although she didn't select several of my submissions. Sigh.) The anthology has articles, memoirs, short stories, poetry, and even recipes! Good writing from good authors. Anyway, here's the cover! #PT&T #Prosateurs
Last Day of April
The year is speeding by. Worries me how quickly time is passing. It seems when I was younger, a year was an impossibly long time. Now, I turn my head, and it blurs by. Either time is speeding up—not entirely impossible by our current understanding of physics as long as we don't equate time with light—or my perception of time is off. After all, a day is a day is a day...to paraphrase Stein a bit.
Anyway, April is almost gone. What a strange April it has been. Our Oklahoma weather jumped from freezing to sweaty in the space of a day or two. Then repeated. And repeated a few more times. We seem finally to be past the temperature fluctuations, but now we're looking at possible tornadoes this week. Weather in the state has always been unexpected, but this is pushing it even for us.
Possibly this is a manifestation of climate change. Hard to know since climate change mostly talks about global changes, which will affect various areas, but the science is imprecise in what exactly those changes will be. None of the discussed changes, by the way, are ones that will create a paradise. No, they’re ones that will cause our grandchildren to hold us in contempt.
Whether such changes in the weather are possible for us to control or to mitigate...I don’t know. Okay, yes, we can, but we lack the will to make those changes. As long as the will is lacking, we will continue to have discussions about climate change until the time for doing anything is long gone.
Setting that aside, it should be an interesting week here. Time for us to watch the sky.
Anyway, April is almost gone. What a strange April it has been. Our Oklahoma weather jumped from freezing to sweaty in the space of a day or two. Then repeated. And repeated a few more times. We seem finally to be past the temperature fluctuations, but now we're looking at possible tornadoes this week. Weather in the state has always been unexpected, but this is pushing it even for us.
Possibly this is a manifestation of climate change. Hard to know since climate change mostly talks about global changes, which will affect various areas, but the science is imprecise in what exactly those changes will be. None of the discussed changes, by the way, are ones that will create a paradise. No, they’re ones that will cause our grandchildren to hold us in contempt.
Whether such changes in the weather are possible for us to control or to mitigate...I don’t know. Okay, yes, we can, but we lack the will to make those changes. As long as the will is lacking, we will continue to have discussions about climate change until the time for doing anything is long gone.
Setting that aside, it should be an interesting week here. Time for us to watch the sky.
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Angel over the ape
We might not create Eden, but it doesn't have to be a wasteland. We can take a compassionate, reasoned, pragmatic approach to life. We can do what we can to make the world better and trust that others will pick up where we falter. We each day must choose the angel over the ape.
Thursday, March 29, 2018
A Way Forward
A Hard Truth: If the sides in a political conflict don't give the other side a way forward, then a political equation is reduced to they're wrong, we're right. And that will never lead to a path forward because the defeated side will not support the way chosen. As long as we see problems as Us vs. Them, it is an equation that leads to societal destruction and misery. Somehow, we have to open our tables to everyone.
As Christians, it is our responsibility to open our table to everyone. To set a place for those we disagree with. To allow them to disagree with us and still break bread with them. The politicians--Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, Greens, Tea Party, Coffee Party, etc.--want to reduce our interactions into heroes and villains. That simplistic view makes "compromise" into a naughty word and allows them--they think--the ability to control the public.
It's up to us to find a way forward. It doesn't include memes. It doesn't include fake news. It doesn't include personal attacks. It doesn't include lies. It doesn't include fake science.
It does include us. Every broken one of us. It means learning how to draw together instead of drawing apart. It means trying to understand other people and seeing their views. It means we will not get everything we want, but we can get what we really need. We cannot remake Eden on Earth--that is true because there is evil that we must oppose--but we don't have to create Hell on earth, either.
It means being an adult and making adult decisions.
It's up to us to decide if we will be angel or ape.
As Christians, it is our responsibility to open our table to everyone. To set a place for those we disagree with. To allow them to disagree with us and still break bread with them. The politicians--Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, Greens, Tea Party, Coffee Party, etc.--want to reduce our interactions into heroes and villains. That simplistic view makes "compromise" into a naughty word and allows them--they think--the ability to control the public.
It's up to us to find a way forward. It doesn't include memes. It doesn't include fake news. It doesn't include personal attacks. It doesn't include lies. It doesn't include fake science.
It does include us. Every broken one of us. It means learning how to draw together instead of drawing apart. It means trying to understand other people and seeing their views. It means we will not get everything we want, but we can get what we really need. We cannot remake Eden on Earth--that is true because there is evil that we must oppose--but we don't have to create Hell on earth, either.
It means being an adult and making adult decisions.
It's up to us to decide if we will be angel or ape.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Reciprocity
Was talking a friend yesterday who suffers from a common aliment in his marriage: He loves her more than she loves him. That mismatch in affection is painful, not that she doesn't love him, but she doesn't show it often.
I hear that a lot from my friends about their significant others. And I always tell them the same thing: Love doesn't carry with it any promise of equal reciprocity. Love just is, and it's a worthy thing to love even if they don't love you as much as you love them. It's a hard thing, but love also doesn't say it will be easy. Love is kind of a jerk at times.
I hear that a lot from my friends about their significant others. And I always tell them the same thing: Love doesn't carry with it any promise of equal reciprocity. Love just is, and it's a worthy thing to love even if they don't love you as much as you love them. It's a hard thing, but love also doesn't say it will be easy. Love is kind of a jerk at times.
Wednesday, January 03, 2018
Nectar
I can't be needing a Dr Pepper 10 this early in the morning. "There's something wrong about that," I say as I'm pouring the fizzing nectar over ice.
Tuesday, January 02, 2018
Day 2
How is your new year going? Broke your resolutions yet? I do like making resolutions and think it's good for me to think about how to be a better human, but I don't get too upset when I slip. Every day is new day and a new chance to do better. Almost a motivational poster, but not quite pithy enough.
Monday, January 01, 2018
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
I hope the new year blesses you and yours
with joy, peace, health, and wealth!
Stephen B. Bagley
Friday, December 15, 2017
Christmas Joke 15
An aspiring young lawyer was sitting in her office late Christmas Eve night when Satan appeared before her. The Devil told her, "I have a proposition for you. You can win every case you try for the rest of your life. Your clients will adore you, your colleagues will stand in awe of you, and you will make embarrassing sums of money. All I want in exchange is your soul, your husband's soul, your children's souls, the souls of your parents, grandparents, and the souls of all your friends and law partners."
The lawyer pondered this, then finally asked: "So, what's the catch?"
The lawyer pondered this, then finally asked: "So, what's the catch?"
Boosting the Signal
Boosting the Signal: Back up your computer! Recently I heard that a writing friend's laptop died. I don't know what was lost, but I imagine lots of things. We all have precious photos and documents on our computers and phones now. BACK THEM UP! One of the easiest ways of doing this is by paying for Carbonite, an automatic backup system for computers. I use it and recommend it, but if you do use it, make sure you know what folders it's backing up, particularly if you use different folders than its presets. But there are other apps that will do that, also, for your computer and phone. (If you use a backup system, please share it in the comments.) Don't lose your digital memories.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Christmas Joke 14
A clergyman is walking down a country lane, enjoying the freshly fallen December snow, and sees a young farmer struggling to load hay back onto a cart after it had fallen off.
"You look exhausted, my son," said the cleric. "why don't you rest a moment, and I'll give you a hand."
"No thanks," said the young man. "My father wouldn't like it."
"Don't be silly," the minister said. "Everyone is entitled to a break. Come to my house and have a hot chocolate while I change to work clothes."
Again the young man protested that his father would be upset. Losing his patience, the clergyman said, "Your father must be a real slave driver. Tell me where I can find him, and I'll give him a piece of my mind!"
"Well," replied the young farmer, "he's under the load of hay."
"You look exhausted, my son," said the cleric. "why don't you rest a moment, and I'll give you a hand."
"No thanks," said the young man. "My father wouldn't like it."
"Don't be silly," the minister said. "Everyone is entitled to a break. Come to my house and have a hot chocolate while I change to work clothes."
Again the young man protested that his father would be upset. Losing his patience, the clergyman said, "Your father must be a real slave driver. Tell me where I can find him, and I'll give him a piece of my mind!"
"Well," replied the young farmer, "he's under the load of hay."
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Christmas Joke 13
A husband and wife were driving down a country lane on their way to visit some friends at Christmas. They came to a muddy patch in the road, and the car became stuck. After a few minutes of trying to get the car out by themselves, they saw a young farmer coming down the lane in a tractor. The farmer stopped when he saw the couple in trouble and offered to pull the car out of the mud for $50. The husband accepted, and minutes later the car was free.
The farmer said to the husband, "You know, you're the 20th car I've helped out of the mud today."
The husband looked around at the fields incredulously and asked the farmer, "When do you have time to tend your farm? At night?"
"No," the farmer replied. "Night is when I put the water in the hole."
The farmer said to the husband, "You know, you're the 20th car I've helped out of the mud today."
The husband looked around at the fields incredulously and asked the farmer, "When do you have time to tend your farm? At night?"
"No," the farmer replied. "Night is when I put the water in the hole."
Christmas Factoids 2
“The Nutcracker” is the most famous Christmas ballet and was used by the Chinese to break the
wills of political prisoners. It is outlawed by the Geneva Convention as is the playing of “Jingle Bells” more than 1,754,322 times during the holiday season.
If you received all of the gifts in the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” you would receive 364 presents, none of which you could return. By the way, why are there so many birds in that song? Doesn’t it seem fowl?
Holly berries are poisonous, which does explain why holly berry cookies aren’t popular even though there was a heavy marketing push for them during the 1950s. It joined the ranks of other failed food products: stone ground hemlock bread, foxglove fajitas, poop pie, and of course, green tea.
In 1843, A Christmas Carol was written by Charles Dickens in only six weeks. Many of us feel he should have taken more time with it and added some spaceships and several hot alien females.
If you received all of the gifts in the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” you would receive 364 presents, none of which you could return. By the way, why are there so many birds in that song? Doesn’t it seem fowl?
Holly berries are poisonous, which does explain why holly berry cookies aren’t popular even though there was a heavy marketing push for them during the 1950s. It joined the ranks of other failed food products: stone ground hemlock bread, foxglove fajitas, poop pie, and of course, green tea.
In 1843, A Christmas Carol was written by Charles Dickens in only six weeks. Many of us feel he should have taken more time with it and added some spaceships and several hot alien females.
Excerpted from Floozy and Other Stories on sale here:
Bonus Christmas Joke 13
The traffic was terrible as Herman was driving down the freeway to the mall. Everyone was out shopping for Christmas presents, and they were driving like crazy people!
His cell phone rang. Answering through the car speakers, he heard his wife's voice urgently warning him, "Herman, I just heard on the news that there's a car going the wrong way on Interstate 77. Please be careful!"
"It's not just one car!" said Herman. "It's hundreds of them!"
His cell phone rang. Answering through the car speakers, he heard his wife's voice urgently warning him, "Herman, I just heard on the news that there's a car going the wrong way on Interstate 77. Please be careful!"
"It's not just one car!" said Herman. "It's hundreds of them!"
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Christmas Factoids 1
Christmas trees started in Germany in the 16th century. On Christmas Eve, Martin Luther was walking home under a starry sky, which was so beautiful he wanted to recreate its beauty for his children. He decorated a large evergreen with lit candles. He followed his creation of the "First Christmas Tree" with the development of the "First House Fire Caused by a Christmas Tree."Since 1947, the people of Oslo, Norway, have given a Christmas tree every year to the city of Westminster, England. The gift expresses Norway’s gratitude for Britain’s help during World War II, despite the fact that the tree is never on Britain’s Christmas list. Britain would prefer a gift card.
The first president to decorate the white house Christmas tree in the United States was Franklin Pierce. This is the only notable thing Pierce did while in office and as such should be remembered, but not by me. I’ve already forgotten it. Franklin who?
Traditionally, Christmas trees are taken down after Epiphany or whenever the husband has been nagged beyond human endurance.
Excerpted from Floozy and Other Stories on sale here:
Wednesday, December 06, 2017
Recommended book!
By Barbara Shepherd
Historical - Belle Strong expected her husband to meet her when she stepped off the ferry in north Texas, but she was in for a surprise—her husband is dying. Pregnant and alone, she faces challenges along the Red River where her world includes fur trappers, Indians, and a rugged sea captain.
Jacob Owens spends most of his life on the high seas and is a self-proclaimed bachelor. But when a green-eyed beauty enters his world, he finds his thoughts drifting in different directions. Why can’t he stop thinking about her, and why is he trading fine beaver pelts for exquisite fabrics to surprise Belle to use in her quilting?
Can she protect her son in such an uncivilized country? Or will she be forced to rely on a complete stranger?
Monday, November 13, 2017
FCB Excerpt
If a woman asks you if you think another woman is pretty, the answer is simply “no.” I don’t care if a multitude of angels are singing the other woman’s name because of her glorious beauty, you say, “No.” If you can convincingly add, “She’s an ugly hag,” things will go even better.
But don’t get cute on this. A friend of mine and his wife went to a cocktail party, and afterwards, as they drove home, his wife casually asked if he thought a woman at the party that they knew from college was pretty.
He immediately said, “No. She has aged so badly.”
“Now, don’t be rude,” his wife said, slightly smiling and resting her hand on his knee.
Warmed by her approval, he stupidly continued, "It’s obvious she’s had her boobs done. They’re so perky and round.”
Poor guy.
-- From the forthcoming book Floozy Comes Back, copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.
But don’t get cute on this. A friend of mine and his wife went to a cocktail party, and afterwards, as they drove home, his wife casually asked if he thought a woman at the party that they knew from college was pretty.
He immediately said, “No. She has aged so badly.”
“Now, don’t be rude,” his wife said, slightly smiling and resting her hand on his knee.
Warmed by her approval, he stupidly continued, "It’s obvious she’s had her boobs done. They’re so perky and round.”
Poor guy.
-- From the forthcoming book Floozy Comes Back, copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
FCB Excerpt
"Many people are horrified the Pilgrims practiced pillorying, the act of fastening someone in a wooden framework in a public area so the Pilgrims could insult and demean them. You should remember this was long before Facebook and Twitter. The Pilgrims had to make do with what they had. And it was better to be pilloried in the New World than in the Old World. In the latter, they would throw rotten vegetables at the pilloryee. The Pilgrims had no food to spare for such fine sport and had to make do with mud, rocks, and—wait for it—dung. On second thought, it wasn’t better at all."
-- From the forthcoming Floozy Comes Back by Stephen B. Bagley. Copyright 2017. All rights reserved.
Friday, November 10, 2017
FCB Excerpt
"Pumpkin spice is a powerful movement these days. You can find that spice in lipstick, candles, lotions, body sprays, perfumes, bath salts, shampoos, potpourri, air fresheners, facial tissue, toilet bowl cleaners, deodorant, sachets, dog biscuits, toothpaste, lip balms, and much more. And that doesn’t count all the pies, cakes, coffees, tarts, fried pies, muffins, and other desserts. There’s really something quite uncanny about it. It’s entirely possible that zombies want pumpkin spice brains, and vampires want pumpkin spice blood."-- From the forthcoming Floozy Comes Back by Stephen B. Bagley. Copyright 2017. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Perfect for Halloween!
Blackbirds Second Flight
Perfect for Halloween!
Featuring thrilling stories and poetry from Stephen Bagley, Wendy Blanton,
Gail Henderson, Ken Lewis,
Jean Schara, and Heath Stallcup!
Wednesday, October 04, 2017
A bit about the Blackbirds
The anthology Blackbirds First Flight featured stories from Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton, Gail Henderson, Jean Schara, and Tamara Siler Jones.
To quote Pru Simmons: “Blackbirds First Flight is an anthology of stories and poetry with a dark, sensual twist. The stories run the gambit from thrilling Gothic adventure to modern urban fantasy to fantastic encounters with the macabre. The poetry is uniformly excellent and tells dark stories of its own, many related to mythology.”
Here's a bit about the authors:
Stephen B. Bagley wrote Tales from Bethlehem, Murder by Dewey Decimal, Murder by the Acre, Floozy & Other Stories, and EndlesS and co-authored Undying with Gail Henderson. His works have appeared in Writer's Digest, Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, ByLine Magazine, Free Star, Nautilus Magazine, OKMagazine, and other publications. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism. He is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. Visit https://stephenbbagley.blogspot.com for more info.
Kent Bass enjoys writing Gothic action/adventure stories. He graduated from Oklahoma State University with a Bachelor of Science in Business and from the University of Oklahoma, with a Master of Science in Accountancy. He and his family live in Dallas, Texas, where he works for the nation’s leading tax software company. Blackbirds First Flight was his first publication.
Wendy Blanton published three fantasy novels, The Dragon’s Lady, Rogue Pawn, and Sword and Scabbard under the pen name Elizabeth Joy with co-author Scott Carman. She has a Bachelor of Applied Science in Business Management from the University of Mount Olive and served in active duty for the United States Air Force for eight years. She is an apprentice bard and tells Celtic folk tales at Scottish Highland Games and other venues. Visit https://wendyblanton.wordpress.com for more info.
Gail Henderson co-authored Undying with Stephen B. Bagley. She collaborated with noted Oklahoma photographer Michael Duncan to produce Bare, a book of poetry and photography. Red Bird Woman, a collection of her poetry, was published in 2013. Her work has appeared in Creations 2014, Creations 2013, Creations 2012, and ByLine Magazine. She holds a Masters of Education in English and Social Studies from East Central University. Visit https://redbirdwoman.blogspot.com for more info.
Tamara Siler Jones is a wife, mom, writer, quilter, and cat-wrangler from rural Iowa. She has numerous novels in print/eBook, including Ghosts in the Snow, winner of the Compton Crook Award for best first novel of the year in the Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror genre; Threads of Malice; Valley of the Soul; SPORE; and the newly released Morgan's Run. Visit http://www.tamara-jones.net for more info.
Jean Schara retired from a 28-year career in the United States Air Force in 2008 and took up residence in Texas. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland University College with a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing and of the Troy State University with a Master of Science in Adult Education. She has had several book reviews published in the Air Power Journal and several articles published in Vision: A Resource for Writers. Visit http://pmtoo.jeanschara.com journal for more info.
Blackbirds First Flight is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Lulu, and other online retailers. Visit https://blackbirdsflights.blogspot.com for more info.
Tuesday, October 03, 2017
Perfect for Halloween!
Enjoy stories and poems from authors
Stephen B. Bagley, Kent Bass, Wendy Blanton,
Gail Henderson, Jean Schara, and Tamara Siler Jones
in this dark, thrilling anthology!
Friday, September 22, 2017
Interesting idea
Apparently, Walmart is testing a program where it delivers groceries to your fridge even when you're not home. As long as it pays for them, too, I could support this. And what about cooking the food, too? Come on, Walmart, step up!
Thursday, September 21, 2017
Autumn come quickly
I am so looking forward to that first hard freeze of autumn...that nip in the air, the changing leaves, the crunching sound made by the tiny frozen bodies of mosquitoes as I walk down the lane...autumn...time for you to come now.
Tuesday, September 05, 2017
Horse to water...
You cannot help people who don't want to be helped. Why is it so hard for me to remember this and to accept it? Maybe it's the sheer illogical thinking that I rebel against. Why would someone choose ugliness instead of something better? My brain refuses to comprehend it.
Saturday, September 02, 2017
We're all in this together
I think it's important in this day and time to remember we're all part of the United States. We're one family going into the future together. And most importantly, you're completely wrong.
Friday, September 01, 2017
I do
I want tacos. The sheer ridiculousness of wanting them at this time of night.... But I do want them. Three of them. Maybe four.
And no, I'm not driving to Taco Bell at midnight. My diabetes nurse would lecture me within an inch of my life. Not that I would care as long as my mouth was stuffed with tacos!
And no, I'm not driving to Taco Bell at midnight. My diabetes nurse would lecture me within an inch of my life. Not that I would care as long as my mouth was stuffed with tacos!
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Visiting the Pope
Former White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer met the Pope on Sunday. One assumes it was for an exorcism....
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Cafe Stephen
The weather was so pleasant last night. Cool. Calm. The only sound was the slurping noise as the mosquitoes sucked my blood...and the smacking noises as they licked their tiny mosquito lips...hmmmmmm good blood, they buzzed.... I think I might be delirious from blood loss.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Misinformed
Hmm. I thought the eclipse was supposed to make people go crazy and strip off their clothes and run up the streets, shouting, "Bumpdabump my baby woogie woogie." Well, now I just feel awkward....
Thursday, August 17, 2017
Jungle creatures
Tomorrow morning, I will get up, and despite personal failures, diabetes, family tragedies and illness, rotten health, global warming, riots in the streets, the sun burning out in five million or so years, I'll still be right here.
Praying, hoping, believing against all intelligent thoughts otherwise, striving, writing, dreaming unreasonable unlikely things, losing, winning, loving for all the wrong reasons...
Living.
Still here.
I'll still be here.
You be here, too.
Praying, hoping, believing against all intelligent thoughts otherwise, striving, writing, dreaming unreasonable unlikely things, losing, winning, loving for all the wrong reasons...
Living.
Still here.
I'll still be here.
You be here, too.
Eleanor: We're jungle creatures, Henry, and the dark is all around us. See them ... in the corners? You can see their eyes.
Henry: And they can see ours. I'm a match for anything. Aren't you?
(From The Lion In Winter by James Goldman)
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Turn the page
Closing The Book
By Stephen B. Bagley
It surprised me when I swept off
all the books on the shelf. I thought
I had long since spent my passion
in purchasing your faithless heart.
You feel uncertain of our life,
you tell me. What you mean is your
better love than me may still be
out there. Why settle for less here?
So go. Leaving is how you show
how little you care, how little
you understand the rarity
of love in this non-fiction world.
If this were a story, you would
come back broken, and I would let
you love me or even better
introduce you to my new love.
Since this is not, I will pick up
the scattered books and set them back
on the shelf, being careful to set
yours to one side to box later.
.
Excerpt from Undying by Stephen B. Bagley & Gail Henderson.
Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
"Places I'd Rather Be"
Places I'd Rather Be
By Stephen B. Bagley
On a beach --
No, on a beach with white sand --
Wait, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean --
Hey, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand --
Yes, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand as I lounge in the shade beneath palm trees and you walk toward me, smiling, the sun glistening on your wet skin as you rise out of the waves ...
In your arms.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the forthcoming book "Eternal." Thank you for reading.)
By Stephen B. Bagley
On a beach --
No, on a beach with white sand --
Wait, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean --
Hey, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand --
Yes, on a beach with white sand and the only sound the ocean and a tall cold fruity umbrellaed drink in my hand as I lounge in the shade beneath palm trees and you walk toward me, smiling, the sun glistening on your wet skin as you rise out of the waves ...
In your arms.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the forthcoming book "Eternal." Thank you for reading.)
Monday, August 14, 2017
Weary
Do you ever feel inexpressibly weary of this world's stupidity? Or really just the stupidity of man? No, I'm not throwing in the towel on us yet, but I remain astonished and dismayed by the utter and complete disregard for true science and true faith that is rampant these days. We have set ourselves up as little gods, and the reckoning will be terrible. God really doesn't have to do anything for us to destroy us in an apocalypse; we'll do it all on our own.
We'll blame Him, of course. We always do when bad things happen, even though many of these disasters are the result of our bad planning and bad decisions, but we won't take the blame for not installing tornado shelters, for not moving populations away from earthquake and tsunami zones, for not following safety standards in food and buildings, by not addressing inequities in food and wealth so that children don't starve to death, for letting hate-filled demagogues win our political offices, for not stewarding our environmental resources so that we can be sure our children's children's children will still have farmland and forests.... You can easily add to this list of disasters. They're all our decisions. It's easier, cheaper, faster to make bad decisions now. After all, we can always blame God later on.
I think the biggest tribute to God's love and mercy is that He hasn't swept us off this earth already. If I were God, I know...as I watch the news about North Korea, Charlottesville, Burkina Faso, Wisconsin...I know I would be sorely tempted.
And this is why I rarely watch the news, Alice. Now you know.
We'll blame Him, of course. We always do when bad things happen, even though many of these disasters are the result of our bad planning and bad decisions, but we won't take the blame for not installing tornado shelters, for not moving populations away from earthquake and tsunami zones, for not following safety standards in food and buildings, by not addressing inequities in food and wealth so that children don't starve to death, for letting hate-filled demagogues win our political offices, for not stewarding our environmental resources so that we can be sure our children's children's children will still have farmland and forests.... You can easily add to this list of disasters. They're all our decisions. It's easier, cheaper, faster to make bad decisions now. After all, we can always blame God later on.
I think the biggest tribute to God's love and mercy is that He hasn't swept us off this earth already. If I were God, I know...as I watch the news about North Korea, Charlottesville, Burkina Faso, Wisconsin...I know I would be sorely tempted.
And this is why I rarely watch the news, Alice. Now you know.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
A religious ramble
A good friend of mine has said that she has reached the age where she doesn't have to associate with people she doesn't like or simply doesn't enjoy. I understand this. I think time and self-respect do the same for most of us. However, it does mean when I don't hear from her in a while, I wonder if I'm in that group now. :)
The danger in this may be if you're basing your choices on skin color or race or other superficial qualities. There's much to be said for going outside what you usually enjoy. We grow in that way. She isn't basing her choices on that so don't think I'm taking a potshot at her. In fact, in many ways, I've done that, too, in my life, but I try to ensure I'm including a diversity of friends in who I'm keeping.
One subset that I've been dropping is people who blame the world and circumstances for their problems instead of realizing their decisions have consequences. I want to point out a common error in so-called Christian thinking--the Bible never says God will rescue you from the troubles caused by what you did on this earth; He promises to be with you throughout and will welcome you into His care after your life is over, but He's not a genie granting your every little wish.
I call such thinking "The Gumball God." We put in a prayer, and we expect a blessing as easy and simple as that. Just like putting a quarter into a gumball machine, out pops our blessing. We're busy in attempting to make God into something we can control or at least understand. We keep trying to put Infinite into the Finite and are frustrated when God just doesn't fit.
One of my ways of looking at God is He is the ultimate artist. He made this beautiful world filled with mountains, oceans, forests, humans, animals, and so much more. Like any artist, He doesn't like it when people destroy His art. A good way to make decisions might be to ask yourself if what you're doing is making His art more beautiful or if it is marring His work. It's how I try to live my life. I fail often, but it's what I aim for.
Yes, I've wandered all over the place in this. Hope you enjoyed the ramble.
The danger in this may be if you're basing your choices on skin color or race or other superficial qualities. There's much to be said for going outside what you usually enjoy. We grow in that way. She isn't basing her choices on that so don't think I'm taking a potshot at her. In fact, in many ways, I've done that, too, in my life, but I try to ensure I'm including a diversity of friends in who I'm keeping.
One subset that I've been dropping is people who blame the world and circumstances for their problems instead of realizing their decisions have consequences. I want to point out a common error in so-called Christian thinking--the Bible never says God will rescue you from the troubles caused by what you did on this earth; He promises to be with you throughout and will welcome you into His care after your life is over, but He's not a genie granting your every little wish.
I call such thinking "The Gumball God." We put in a prayer, and we expect a blessing as easy and simple as that. Just like putting a quarter into a gumball machine, out pops our blessing. We're busy in attempting to make God into something we can control or at least understand. We keep trying to put Infinite into the Finite and are frustrated when God just doesn't fit.
One of my ways of looking at God is He is the ultimate artist. He made this beautiful world filled with mountains, oceans, forests, humans, animals, and so much more. Like any artist, He doesn't like it when people destroy His art. A good way to make decisions might be to ask yourself if what you're doing is making His art more beautiful or if it is marring His work. It's how I try to live my life. I fail often, but it's what I aim for.
Yes, I've wandered all over the place in this. Hope you enjoyed the ramble.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
I'm a tree
My diabetes nurse has this chart where she logs your weight and then figures out how tall you should be. Apparently, I should be a Redwood.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Diet,
Our relationship is in terrible trouble. You're bland and boring, and I can't stop cheating on you with Little Debbie.
Worried,
Me
Our relationship is in terrible trouble. You're bland and boring, and I can't stop cheating on you with Little Debbie.
Worried,
Me
Thursday, August 10, 2017
My inner voice
My diabetes education nurse says we all have an "inner fatty" who talks to us. Mine talks all the time, and I must say he has many tasty ideas.
Wednesday, August 09, 2017
Seriously
Autocorrect is a terrible nuisance. The other day I tried to order "salad" and autocorrect changed it to "four tacos and an order of nachos." They really need to get that drive-in microphone fixed.
Tuesday, August 08, 2017
Doctor's orders
Well, my doctor told me that I cannot host dinners for six people. Unless, of course, the other five people are actually there eating their share of the food. Spoilsport.
Monday, August 07, 2017
Problem
So sad. I saw my coffee cup by my desk and I thought maybe there was coffee left in it because I usually take it to the sink when I finish the cup so I raised it up and it was empty.... Sigh. It's actually too late to be drinking coffee if I want to sleep--and I do despite what you may have heard--but I thought a swallow or two wouldn't hurt. But it was empty. Then I thought I would share this because the world is facing real problems and so am I. I should probably do a Facebook post, too....
Sunday, August 06, 2017
Good Advice
It's hard to find a friend who is intelligent, handsome, funny, charming, humble, and kind...so y'all shouldn't misplace me. Who knows when you'd be lucky enough to find someone like me again?
Saturday, August 05, 2017
Wish someone would try
Listen, you can't buy my love, really you can't...but you sure can buy a whole lot of liking from me
Friday, August 04, 2017
Wednesday Night Writers Discuss Aging Characters
"What I want to know is why every older person in a book either has to be filled with wisdom or is decrepit," Faraway said. "What's wrong with having a mature person who is just like the other characters in the book -- messed up and passionate."
Divine looked startled. "Passionate?"
Faraway frowned at her. "Don't tell me that you believe old people don't have sex."
"I believe they do, but I try not to think about it," Aromance muttered. She shuddered.
"America is aging," Faraway said, glaring at Aromance. "The Baby Boomers are going to be in their sixties and seventies soon. They won't be content to wither away quietly. Books should reflect that, and they don't. Instead, books feature young people. TV shows feature young people. Movies feature young people. Listen, kiddies, I don't worship in the cult of youth. I never met a teenager yet that could carry on a decent conversation about anything important."
"The blueberry muffins I brought have fiber added," Cookbookins said. "And we each get two. TWO. No more, no less." She held up two fingers.
"Did you say two?" Realer asked, with a smirk. He waggled three fingers at her.
"I think fiction will change to accommodate an older audience," Begenre said. "I've recently read several mysteries that feature sleuths in their sixties and seventies. I think fiction overall will reflect an active maturity as we see more vital people in real life who are in their sixties and seventies. Remember, it's only been in the past few decades that medicine has allowed people to live longer and healthier lives."
"TV is to blame," Eongo said.
The others sighed.
"Even I can see that TV isn't the greatest evil on earth," Divine said. "And I write letters protesting that degenerate MTV all the time."
"No, listen to me," Eongo said. "Advertisers want to buy advertising on programs that target young people because young people spend more on disposable items."
"Like bling," Faraway said.
"Exactly," Eongo said. "So networks and television studies make shows that feature young people because those are the ones that make the most advertising revenue. Remember what happened to Murder She Wrote when it was placed opposite of Friends?"
"I saw those shows on NetFlix, I think," Teenwriter said, uncertainly. "Don't any of you watch Game of Thrones?"
"That was more of an audience decision," Begenre said. "More people wanted to watch Friends than Murder She Wrote. You can't blame the networks for that. They're only giving the public what they want."
"I can blame them and do," Eongo said. "They create the demand for the shows. They only show us programs with young people so people are influenced by those shows to want more shows with young people. They create the demand for youth-oriented shows and so they produce youth-oriented shows and that creates more demand for other youth-oriented shows. It's a vicious circle."
"If the choice is between older people and hot young people like Matthew Perry, the hot young people are always going to be the audience's choice," Aromance said.
"Angela Lansbury was just as hot as Courtney Cox," Eongo declared.
Realer spewed muffin across the room as he coughed. Begenre thumped him on the back.
"Seriously, do any of you watch Netflix?" Teenwriter asked. 'And who is Matthew Perry?"
"Just because you wasted a good muffin doesn't mean you get another one," Cookbookins said.
"That's my point," Eongo said, pointing at Realer. "We've been conditioned to think youth people are desirable. What's wrong with showing older people who are desirable?"
"I'm not sure that has anything to do with fiction," Begenre said. "I think it has to do with babies."
"Babies?" Eongo asked.
"Throughout history, men have wanted younger wives because they could produce more babies," Begenre said. "If you believe in evolution, then we have a biological need to reproduce, and so we orient toward young people because they can have more babies than an older person can."
Divine frowned at the mention of evolution.
"Then you saying fiction will continue to feature young people," Faraway said. "That's unacceptable."
"I agree," Divine said. "We are more than biology." She looked at Begenre. "Much more. Fiction doesn't just reflect reality; it can also shape reality. As writers, we have a responsibility to write books that uplift the readers and change their values in a positive way. To claim that you're only giving the public what it wants is to cater to the lowest common denominator. It's using your writing gift simply to profit yourself and not others. Great fiction challenges the reader. It helps them grow."
"It's like chocolate-dipped pineapple chunks," Cookbookins said, shaking the crumbs of a muffin off her dress.
The others looked at her.
"See, I was dipping strawberries in chocolate for my niece's wedding reception," Cookbookins said. "But I didn't have enough strawberries because the store was out. So I looked around my kitchen and saw several cans of pineapple chunks. I drained the chunks and then dipped them in chocolate." She smiled at the group.
A pause.
"I don't quite follow you," Begenre said slowly. "How does that relate?"
Cookbookins sighed. "Isn't it obvious? I wrote in my newspaper column about using pineapple for dipping, and several of my readers wrote in to tell me that they had tried it and liked it, too. I wrote about it yesterday. Doesn't anyone read my column?"
"I haven't had a chance," Faraway said. "But I will as soon as I go home."
"I don't take the paper," Begenre muttered.
"My point is that by writing what I did, I influenced my readers to do the same," Cookbookins said. "So I -- how did you put it? -- shaped reality."
"Ah," Begenre said. "I get it."
"That actually made sense," Realer said with wonder.
"And it related to what we were talking about," Aromance said.
"Of course, it did," Cookbookins said. "I always make sense. You just don't understand me."
"We'll try to do better," Realer said. He exchanged bemused glances with the others.
"Since we can shape reality, we need to careful to portray mature characters in an active and interesting fashion," Faraway said. "Old age is not the same as useless and uninteresting."
And on that note, we were out of time.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.)
Divine looked startled. "Passionate?"
Faraway frowned at her. "Don't tell me that you believe old people don't have sex."
"I believe they do, but I try not to think about it," Aromance muttered. She shuddered.
"America is aging," Faraway said, glaring at Aromance. "The Baby Boomers are going to be in their sixties and seventies soon. They won't be content to wither away quietly. Books should reflect that, and they don't. Instead, books feature young people. TV shows feature young people. Movies feature young people. Listen, kiddies, I don't worship in the cult of youth. I never met a teenager yet that could carry on a decent conversation about anything important."
"The blueberry muffins I brought have fiber added," Cookbookins said. "And we each get two. TWO. No more, no less." She held up two fingers.
"Did you say two?" Realer asked, with a smirk. He waggled three fingers at her.
"I think fiction will change to accommodate an older audience," Begenre said. "I've recently read several mysteries that feature sleuths in their sixties and seventies. I think fiction overall will reflect an active maturity as we see more vital people in real life who are in their sixties and seventies. Remember, it's only been in the past few decades that medicine has allowed people to live longer and healthier lives."
"TV is to blame," Eongo said.
The others sighed.
"Even I can see that TV isn't the greatest evil on earth," Divine said. "And I write letters protesting that degenerate MTV all the time."
"No, listen to me," Eongo said. "Advertisers want to buy advertising on programs that target young people because young people spend more on disposable items."
"Like bling," Faraway said.
"Exactly," Eongo said. "So networks and television studies make shows that feature young people because those are the ones that make the most advertising revenue. Remember what happened to Murder She Wrote when it was placed opposite of Friends?"
"I saw those shows on NetFlix, I think," Teenwriter said, uncertainly. "Don't any of you watch Game of Thrones?"
"That was more of an audience decision," Begenre said. "More people wanted to watch Friends than Murder She Wrote. You can't blame the networks for that. They're only giving the public what they want."
"I can blame them and do," Eongo said. "They create the demand for the shows. They only show us programs with young people so people are influenced by those shows to want more shows with young people. They create the demand for youth-oriented shows and so they produce youth-oriented shows and that creates more demand for other youth-oriented shows. It's a vicious circle."
"If the choice is between older people and hot young people like Matthew Perry, the hot young people are always going to be the audience's choice," Aromance said.
"Angela Lansbury was just as hot as Courtney Cox," Eongo declared.
Realer spewed muffin across the room as he coughed. Begenre thumped him on the back.
"Seriously, do any of you watch Netflix?" Teenwriter asked. 'And who is Matthew Perry?"
"Just because you wasted a good muffin doesn't mean you get another one," Cookbookins said.
"That's my point," Eongo said, pointing at Realer. "We've been conditioned to think youth people are desirable. What's wrong with showing older people who are desirable?"
"I'm not sure that has anything to do with fiction," Begenre said. "I think it has to do with babies."
"Babies?" Eongo asked.
"Throughout history, men have wanted younger wives because they could produce more babies," Begenre said. "If you believe in evolution, then we have a biological need to reproduce, and so we orient toward young people because they can have more babies than an older person can."
Divine frowned at the mention of evolution.
"Then you saying fiction will continue to feature young people," Faraway said. "That's unacceptable."
"I agree," Divine said. "We are more than biology." She looked at Begenre. "Much more. Fiction doesn't just reflect reality; it can also shape reality. As writers, we have a responsibility to write books that uplift the readers and change their values in a positive way. To claim that you're only giving the public what it wants is to cater to the lowest common denominator. It's using your writing gift simply to profit yourself and not others. Great fiction challenges the reader. It helps them grow."
"It's like chocolate-dipped pineapple chunks," Cookbookins said, shaking the crumbs of a muffin off her dress.
The others looked at her.
"See, I was dipping strawberries in chocolate for my niece's wedding reception," Cookbookins said. "But I didn't have enough strawberries because the store was out. So I looked around my kitchen and saw several cans of pineapple chunks. I drained the chunks and then dipped them in chocolate." She smiled at the group.
A pause.
"I don't quite follow you," Begenre said slowly. "How does that relate?"
Cookbookins sighed. "Isn't it obvious? I wrote in my newspaper column about using pineapple for dipping, and several of my readers wrote in to tell me that they had tried it and liked it, too. I wrote about it yesterday. Doesn't anyone read my column?"
"I haven't had a chance," Faraway said. "But I will as soon as I go home."
"I don't take the paper," Begenre muttered.
"My point is that by writing what I did, I influenced my readers to do the same," Cookbookins said. "So I -- how did you put it? -- shaped reality."
"Ah," Begenre said. "I get it."
"That actually made sense," Realer said with wonder.
"And it related to what we were talking about," Aromance said.
"Of course, it did," Cookbookins said. "I always make sense. You just don't understand me."
"We'll try to do better," Realer said. He exchanged bemused glances with the others.
"Since we can shape reality, we need to careful to portray mature characters in an active and interesting fashion," Faraway said. "Old age is not the same as useless and uninteresting."
And on that note, we were out of time.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.)
Thursday, August 03, 2017
Whispers
Whispers
By Stephen B. Bagley
He whispered as he held her:
This could get messy --
this thing between us.
We could lose everything
for a stolen moment.
Stolen from this empty world
that breaks everything
eventually. We will break
too, you know.
A cross word, a sideways glance,
a silence at the wrong instant.
I'll be cold, you'll be hot,
timing is everything and all
clocks wind down.
We shouldn't. It's not wise.
It's beyond stupid. We're
risking battered hearts.
We might not survive.
So we walk away now.
We forget. We go back.
We do the smart thing.
The smartest thing.
She whispered:
I'm sure you're right
but if it's so,
why then am I
still in your arms?
He didn't reply
and held her close
as the moon sailed toward
the shores of morning.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the forthcoming Many Rivers Harbor book Eternal.)
By Stephen B. Bagley
He whispered as he held her:
This could get messy --
this thing between us.
We could lose everything
for a stolen moment.
Stolen from this empty world
that breaks everything
eventually. We will break
too, you know.
A cross word, a sideways glance,
a silence at the wrong instant.
I'll be cold, you'll be hot,
timing is everything and all
clocks wind down.
We shouldn't. It's not wise.
It's beyond stupid. We're
risking battered hearts.
We might not survive.
So we walk away now.
We forget. We go back.
We do the smart thing.
The smartest thing.
She whispered:
I'm sure you're right
but if it's so,
why then am I
still in your arms?
He didn't reply
and held her close
as the moon sailed toward
the shores of morning.
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. From the forthcoming Many Rivers Harbor book Eternal.)
Wednesday, August 02, 2017
Bit of an update
I've been looking for authors who might be a good fit for a professional writing group that I lead. I thought I had found one, but fortunately before I asked her, I discovered that she didn't support other authors. She said she needed readers, not authors, and she wouldn't read other authors' posts nor buy their books because she was focusing on her own career.
I have no patience with that. Like I said, I hadn't yet mentioned the writing group to her, so no harm, no foul.
The minimum an author can do is cheer on fellow authors. People who do not...I do not respect them and will not waste my time helping them when they do not help other people.
That professional writing group is meant for authors helping other authors, authors supporting other authors, authors contributing to other authors, and authors sharing knowledge with other authors. She did not belong, and it is no loss to us...but it might be one for her.
But with my energies focused on my health, I find my imagination mostly focuses on sleep. I've always struggled with getting enough sleep--my brain is a busy monster--so I imagine what it would feel like to get eight hours uninterrupted sleep and wake refreshed and ready to go. Like when I was 20 and didn't think about bouncing out of bed.
I've been wondering I need a new bed. I see a lot of commercials talking about various beds, so many so that I can't figure out what would best. It's something I'm going to research over the next few months. Input would be appreciated.
Anyway, this is me signing off. Hope you have a great night.
I have no patience with that. Like I said, I hadn't yet mentioned the writing group to her, so no harm, no foul.
The minimum an author can do is cheer on fellow authors. People who do not...I do not respect them and will not waste my time helping them when they do not help other people.
That professional writing group is meant for authors helping other authors, authors supporting other authors, authors contributing to other authors, and authors sharing knowledge with other authors. She did not belong, and it is no loss to us...but it might be one for her.
***
I've not been pursuing my creative goals the way I would like to. Lately, I've been focusing on my health. I'm determined to regain my strength and endurance if that's possible, and I believe it is. Right now, simply walking a fair distance leaves me exhausted. It's slowly getting better, but oh so slowly. I have to keep reminding myself that it took years of neglect--and bad genetics--to get me in this shape. Fixing the problems isn't going to happen overnight. As for the genetics, there's research that shows exercise, proper diet, and healthy lifestyle can cause bad genes to stop expressing themselves and trigger good genes. So...it's possible. Just going to take some time. A friend likes to say, "You're not in a dash; you're in a marathon." True.But with my energies focused on my health, I find my imagination mostly focuses on sleep. I've always struggled with getting enough sleep--my brain is a busy monster--so I imagine what it would feel like to get eight hours uninterrupted sleep and wake refreshed and ready to go. Like when I was 20 and didn't think about bouncing out of bed.
I've been wondering I need a new bed. I see a lot of commercials talking about various beds, so many so that I can't figure out what would best. It's something I'm going to research over the next few months. Input would be appreciated.
Anyway, this is me signing off. Hope you have a great night.
Tuesday, August 01, 2017
Modern Life
It's good advice to dance like no one is watching you. Because they're not. They looking at their iPhones. Unless you dance like fire ants have invaded your undies and then they're pointing their phones at you so that they can post the video online. #IHateModernLife #DoNotAskHowIKnow
Monday, July 31, 2017
"A Lazy Day" by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Recently, Poem-A-Day featured this lovely poem by one of my favorite poets.
"A Lazy Day"
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
The trees bend down along the stream,
Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
The day is one to drowse and dream
And list the thrush’s throttling note.
When music from his bosom bleeds
Among the river’s rustling reeds.
No ripple stirs the placid pool,
When my adventurous line is cast,
A truce to sport, while clear and cool,
The mirrored clouds slide softly past.
The sky gives back a blue divine,
And all the world’s wide wealth is mine.
A pickerel leaps, a bow of light,
The minnows shine from side to side.
The first faint breeze comes up the tide—
I pause with half uplifted oar,
While night drifts down to claim the shore.
(Paul Laurence Dunbar was born in 1872, in Dayton, Ohio. His collections of poetry include Lyrics of Love and Laughter (Dodd, Mead & Company, 1903) and Poems of Cabin and Field (Dodd, Mead & Co., 1899). “A Lazy Day” was published in Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow (Dodd, Mead & Company, 1905). He died in 1906. You can subscribe to poem-a-day at Poem-A-Day.)
"A Lazy Day"
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
The trees bend down along the stream,
Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
The day is one to drowse and dream
And list the thrush’s throttling note.
When music from his bosom bleeds
Among the river’s rustling reeds.
No ripple stirs the placid pool,
When my adventurous line is cast,
A truce to sport, while clear and cool,
The mirrored clouds slide softly past.
The sky gives back a blue divine,
And all the world’s wide wealth is mine.
A pickerel leaps, a bow of light,
The minnows shine from side to side.
The first faint breeze comes up the tide—
I pause with half uplifted oar,
While night drifts down to claim the shore.
(Paul Laurence Dunbar was born in 1872, in Dayton, Ohio. His collections of poetry include Lyrics of Love and Laughter (Dodd, Mead & Company, 1903) and Poems of Cabin and Field (Dodd, Mead & Co., 1899). “A Lazy Day” was published in Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow (Dodd, Mead & Company, 1905). He died in 1906. You can subscribe to poem-a-day at Poem-A-Day.)
Friday, July 28, 2017
Observation
So a friend of mine was carrying a little bag at lunch, and I made a joking remark about how lovely his alligator purse was.
"It's not a purse," he said. "It's a tactical bag."
"Oh," I said, admiring the marketing geniuses who had come up with a way to sell traditionally feminine things to men. "It must be a handy way to carry your tactical lipstick and tactical perfume."
Which is why I finished the meal alone.
"It's not a purse," he said. "It's a tactical bag."
"Oh," I said, admiring the marketing geniuses who had come up with a way to sell traditionally feminine things to men. "It must be a handy way to carry your tactical lipstick and tactical perfume."
Which is why I finished the meal alone.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Fitness Coach,
Yes, I know exercise is good for us. In fact, there are few things I enjoy more than a good, brisk nap.
Me
Yes, I know exercise is good for us. In fact, there are few things I enjoy more than a good, brisk nap.
Me
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Inuit poem
I love this poem. It's quoted at the end of the movie Never Cry Wolf.
I think over again my small adventures,
My fears,
Those small ones that seemed so big,
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach;
And yet there is only one great thing,
The only thing,
To live to see the great day that dawns
And the light that fills the world.
- Anonymous (Inuit, 19th century)
I think over again my small adventures,
My fears,
Those small ones that seemed so big,
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach;
And yet there is only one great thing,
The only thing,
To live to see the great day that dawns
And the light that fills the world.
- Anonymous (Inuit, 19th century)
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Observation
Wedding ceremonies are always so happy. It's the years afterward where people seem to run into trouble. At least at the ceremony, you get cake.
Monday, July 24, 2017
Observation
So many of my friends have beards now, and I don't think it looks good on the women at all.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Observation
Saw a t-shirt the other day that read: "Been there, done that."
Mine would say: "Been there, done that, didn't learn, did it again, still didn't learn, repeated it a few more times because I have all the vast intelligence of gravel, Lord help me."
Not as pithy, though.
Mine would say: "Been there, done that, didn't learn, did it again, still didn't learn, repeated it a few more times because I have all the vast intelligence of gravel, Lord help me."
Not as pithy, though.
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Friend,
Whenever I'm burdened with sorrow, you're beside me.
Whenever I struggle with life, you're beside me.
Whenever I'm hurting, you're beside me.
I think it's time we faced the truth: you're a troublemaker.
Cut it out.
Regards,
Me
Whenever I'm burdened with sorrow, you're beside me.
Whenever I struggle with life, you're beside me.
Whenever I'm hurting, you're beside me.
I think it's time we faced the truth: you're a troublemaker.
Cut it out.
Regards,
Me
Friday, July 21, 2017
I Want a New Drug
What I really want is the meds that the hosts on the shopping channels must be using. I just saw a woman shout with joy over a new mop. No kidding.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Observation
At night, when I'm in bed and the house is quiet and I close my eyes...I can't hear anything and I can't see anything. What? You were expecting wisdom at 1:12 a.m.?
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
First Pomodoro
And we're off! I'm using a Pomodoro timer to time this writing. And what is Pomodoro? It's a time management technique where you work for 25 minutes, take a 5 minute break, and then resume. Because it's so late, I will only go 25 minutes.
I've read a lot about Pomodoro. It sounds simple, but apparently a lot of creative people have found that it keeps their "muse" from becoming fatigued. I hate to use "muse" like that, but it's a shorthand expression that's too convenient. Thus does expediency encourage sloppy whimsy.
A few of my author friends work by schedules. I've always admired that. I find my mind wanders a lot. I suspect I have ADHD, but I've lived with it this long. I prefer to think it's simply my brain being busy. I hate that it decides to be busy at night so consistently. I would like more sleep. I have been taking naps sometimes, but I can never seem to time them correctly. Either I sleep too long and wake up feeling terrible or not enough and receive no benefit. Naps require skill.
Even as a kid, I wasn't a napper. I wanted to be up and looking around. A lot of things needed my attention. Sleep? Who needs sleep?
Well, I do. And most of America does. According to the experts, despite our time-saving machines and routines, we're getting less sleep than any prior generation. I wonder if it has to with all the screens we look at: TV, computers, tablets, iPads, phones, etc. I wonder this even as I look at a screen as I type this.
Supposedly, the blue light of our screens disrupts our sleep patterns. According to Scientific American: "The light from our devices is “short-wavelength-enriched,” meaning it has a higher concentration of blue light than natural light—and blue light affects levels of the sleep-inducing hormone melatonin more than any other wavelength." You can adjust your screen to emit more red light at night. They say it helps.
Anyway, I was determined to try out writing in 25 minutes intervals today. Time got away from me, as it often does, but I decided I would put in at least one 25 minute writing period before heading off to toss and turn.
Now, I'm thinking about all the power strip and clock and TV lights in my room. I might start covering them up. They seem bright when I wake up in the middle of the night. I wonder if anyone has ever studied the effect they have on sleep. I know they use more electrical power than we think. Many studies have shown that standby devices consume significant amounts of electricity. Same studies say we should have everything on power strips so we can turn them off at night. I would, but they have clocks on them. I might have to figure out a way to power the clocks separately from the other devices. Funny thing though, my power strips also have bright lights on them.
We live in a world of light these days. So much so that many people have never seen the Milky Way. Or rarely do. Even in my small town, there's enough light to obscure many of the stars. One of my friends is an amateur astronomer, and he drives out into the country and uses special filters on his telescope to attempt to compensate for the artificial light flooding the sky. I know professional astronomers have attempted to get cities to use special lights and shields so that the light is aimed at the ground instead of the sky. They have only had limited success. It would be great if every town and city did so, but that takes money and municipalities have plenty of other issues that need money and attention.
Well, my time is up. I will be using Pomodoro more, if only to give it a proper evaluation. For tonight, I'm ending this here.
I've read a lot about Pomodoro. It sounds simple, but apparently a lot of creative people have found that it keeps their "muse" from becoming fatigued. I hate to use "muse" like that, but it's a shorthand expression that's too convenient. Thus does expediency encourage sloppy whimsy.
A few of my author friends work by schedules. I've always admired that. I find my mind wanders a lot. I suspect I have ADHD, but I've lived with it this long. I prefer to think it's simply my brain being busy. I hate that it decides to be busy at night so consistently. I would like more sleep. I have been taking naps sometimes, but I can never seem to time them correctly. Either I sleep too long and wake up feeling terrible or not enough and receive no benefit. Naps require skill.
Even as a kid, I wasn't a napper. I wanted to be up and looking around. A lot of things needed my attention. Sleep? Who needs sleep?
Well, I do. And most of America does. According to the experts, despite our time-saving machines and routines, we're getting less sleep than any prior generation. I wonder if it has to with all the screens we look at: TV, computers, tablets, iPads, phones, etc. I wonder this even as I look at a screen as I type this.
Supposedly, the blue light of our screens disrupts our sleep patterns. According to Scientific American: "The light from our devices is “short-wavelength-enriched,” meaning it has a higher concentration of blue light than natural light—and blue light affects levels of the sleep-inducing hormone melatonin more than any other wavelength." You can adjust your screen to emit more red light at night. They say it helps.
Anyway, I was determined to try out writing in 25 minutes intervals today. Time got away from me, as it often does, but I decided I would put in at least one 25 minute writing period before heading off to toss and turn.
Now, I'm thinking about all the power strip and clock and TV lights in my room. I might start covering them up. They seem bright when I wake up in the middle of the night. I wonder if anyone has ever studied the effect they have on sleep. I know they use more electrical power than we think. Many studies have shown that standby devices consume significant amounts of electricity. Same studies say we should have everything on power strips so we can turn them off at night. I would, but they have clocks on them. I might have to figure out a way to power the clocks separately from the other devices. Funny thing though, my power strips also have bright lights on them.
We live in a world of light these days. So much so that many people have never seen the Milky Way. Or rarely do. Even in my small town, there's enough light to obscure many of the stars. One of my friends is an amateur astronomer, and he drives out into the country and uses special filters on his telescope to attempt to compensate for the artificial light flooding the sky. I know professional astronomers have attempted to get cities to use special lights and shields so that the light is aimed at the ground instead of the sky. They have only had limited success. It would be great if every town and city did so, but that takes money and municipalities have plenty of other issues that need money and attention.
Well, my time is up. I will be using Pomodoro more, if only to give it a proper evaluation. For tonight, I'm ending this here.
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
Magic
My hairstylist has decided that she now wants to be known as my magician. And I must say that she dyes my scalp better than anyone else.
Monday, July 17, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Fitness Coach,
With complete sincerity in your voice, you just told me that someday I would enjoy these punishing workouts. Listen, a man who can lie like that should go into politics. You're a natural for Congress!
Me
With complete sincerity in your voice, you just told me that someday I would enjoy these punishing workouts. Listen, a man who can lie like that should go into politics. You're a natural for Congress!
Me
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Fitness Coach,
I read your health plan for me: "Exercise daily. Eat right. Get enough sleep." Humph. I didn't know I would be doing all the work.
Disgustedly,
Me
I read your health plan for me: "Exercise daily. Eat right. Get enough sleep." Humph. I didn't know I would be doing all the work.
Disgustedly,
Me
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Limit of Logic
My therapist: Any problem can be solved if you apply logic to it.
Me: There's this woman that...
My therapist: Oh, no, I didn't mean you can apply logic to women.
Me: Hm. Ooookay.
Me: There's this woman that...
My therapist: Oh, no, I didn't mean you can apply logic to women.
Me: Hm. Ooookay.
Friday, July 14, 2017
Awkward
So I went to dinner with a couple who had just returned from their honeymoon (his second marriage and her third) and they went to an island, which sounded wonderful...white beaches, palm trees, great service, the emerald ocean.
And I said, "Show me your pictures."
The wife glanced at her husband and said, "You wouldn't be interested."
"No, I love vacation photos," I said, which is true. I am a great armchair traveler.
The husband shrugged, messed with his phone, and then handed it to me.
I put on my glasses and looked at the first photo. Then I took my glasses off and handed the phone back as my face and ears began to glow Rudolph red while they laughed.
It turns out that my friends are closet nudists.
I've had some awkward moments in my life, but I do think that is a particularly notable one.
And I said, "Show me your pictures."
The wife glanced at her husband and said, "You wouldn't be interested."
"No, I love vacation photos," I said, which is true. I am a great armchair traveler.
The husband shrugged, messed with his phone, and then handed it to me.
I put on my glasses and looked at the first photo. Then I took my glasses off and handed the phone back as my face and ears began to glow Rudolph red while they laughed.
It turns out that my friends are closet nudists.
I've had some awkward moments in my life, but I do think that is a particularly notable one.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Revulsion
I'm reading this news story, and I come to last word of this sentence: "His admission about his New Zealand citizenship opened the possibility that the Commonwealth could pursue him to pay back years in salary and allowances, but Mr Ludlam said he was confident that would not eventuate." Eventuate? EVENTUATE? What in the name of Strunk and White is that?
Oh, I know it's a word. A word which I will never use and which arouses in me a true sense of revulsion.... Imagine, by the way, Hannibal Lector saying what I just said. That's the voice I used in my head.
Oh, I know it's a word. A word which I will never use and which arouses in me a true sense of revulsion.... Imagine, by the way, Hannibal Lector saying what I just said. That's the voice I used in my head.
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Insomnia,
I always try to be a gracious host. I figure if someone makes to my house through the warning signs over the moat past the dogs under the razor wire, then they should be welcomed if only to lull them into a false sense of security before I send their sorry hides packing. However, you are here and should leave. Remember what Ben Franklin supposedly said about house guests: "Fish and visitors smell after three days." You're reeking like a Congressman's promise now.
Disregards,
Me
I always try to be a gracious host. I figure if someone makes to my house through the warning signs over the moat past the dogs under the razor wire, then they should be welcomed if only to lull them into a false sense of security before I send their sorry hides packing. However, you are here and should leave. Remember what Ben Franklin supposedly said about house guests: "Fish and visitors smell after three days." You're reeking like a Congressman's promise now.
Disregards,
Me
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Unsent Letter
Dear Naps,
I need to apologize to you. As a child, I fought you terribly. You were my sworn enemy, and I vowed I would utterly defeat you when I was older. Well, I'm older now. As it turns out, you're awesome. I was wrong and welcome you now. Just thought you should know. Hope you will forgive me.
Regards,
Me
I need to apologize to you. As a child, I fought you terribly. You were my sworn enemy, and I vowed I would utterly defeat you when I was older. Well, I'm older now. As it turns out, you're awesome. I was wrong and welcome you now. Just thought you should know. Hope you will forgive me.
Regards,
Me
Monday, July 10, 2017
A good thing
I did a good thing. I stepped outside briefly, and three mosquitoes landed on me. I did the noble thing and helped them back into the karmic circle of life so that they can be reborn as a higher life-form on their journey to Nirvana...or I squashed them. Take your pick.
Sunday, July 09, 2017
Of course
Of course, there are lot of people with anxiety disorders these days. It just makes sense. Have you watched the news lately? Just the morning report is enough to give the Pope the shudders.
Saturday, July 08, 2017
Truth
A friend was telling me how good her five mile run made her feel, and so I asked if it was as good as hot peach cobbler topped with vanilla bean ice cream.
There was a long pause, and then she said, "No. And I hate you."
There was a long pause, and then she said, "No. And I hate you."
Friday, July 07, 2017
Child proof
I had to open a new bottle of meds tonight, and it had one of those child proof lids.... Apparently, I'm a child. But I'm a child with a hammer. I think Houdini himself couldn't have got into it.
Thursday, July 06, 2017
Bon chance mon ami!
My therapist is actually leaving the therapy field. It's so sad. His other patients must have been really tough on him. Why, sometimes he would weep during our sessions after a hard day of talking to them. Poor guy, I hope he's happy as a long haul trucker.
Wednesday, July 05, 2017
Roly-poly
Have you heard of the elephants graveyard? Where the elephants all supposedly went to die? Apparently my entry way is the roly-poly graveyard. Where are they coming from and why are they coming here to die? I give them a respectful burial as long as you define "respectful" as being being sucked up by a vacuum, which I think most of us do.
Tuesday, July 04, 2017
Happy July 4th!
Yes, we have problems as a nation -- and what nation since the dawn of time has not? -- but I'm proud to be an American, blessed to live in this diverse and amazing nation, humbled by the sacrifices of those who have given their lives to keep us free, and excited when looking forward to our future. The naysayers and political pundits like to highlight our shortcomings, conveniently ignoring our past and continuing accomplishments. We truly have changed the face of the world, and although we have made grievous mistakes, we have also been an unrelenting force for freedom and liberty. God has blessed us immensely, and may He continue to do so! Happy Fourth of July!
Monday, July 03, 2017
Future needs
I think a robot car would be nice. I could nap or watch movies. People get upset when I do those things now while driving.
Sunday, July 02, 2017
Pastoral visits
I have always found a great way to see my pastor is to be in some totally innocent, but seemingly compromising situation that I can never adequately explain. Although I really think he's used to me now. At least he doesn't toss holy water on me anymore. Which was quite refreshing at times.
Saturday, July 01, 2017
Scene from the End of One Story
"Scene from the End of One Story"
By Stephen B. Bagley
...This is how one story ended...
Eve walked into Milligan's with her friend Bette, and as always, her eyes searched the restaurant for his shoulders and that ratty leather jacket and his soft worn hat that felt like velvet when she touched it. For seven weeks, she had searched all their places. The coffee shop, the bookstore, the library, the pier, the Seafood Shack. But Jeremy had disappeared from her life.
She didn't know how to live without him, but she was trying to learn how. She took a gym class, went out to movies with Bette and her other friends, and focused on work, turning out reports with an efficiency that even her boss noticed. A couple of guys--Kevin from Sales and Joel from Receivables--asked her out, and she said yes. Nice enough dates, and she had enjoyed them. Kevin even made her laugh, and Joel was sweet. But she kissed them good night at the door.
Bette threaded her way through the crowd, looking for a table. Eve followed, wondering when she would stop feeling that pit in her stomach when she didn't see him. She stumbled and caught herself on the edge of a table. The men seated at it smiled at her. She apologized, backed away, turned toward Bette, and saw Jeremy.
He didn't see her. He stood by a table talking to two other men. The crowd closed between them, and she lost sight of him. For a moment, she paused, feeling her heart beating hard. Then she pushed forward, leaving Bette behind, weaving her way forcefully toward her last chance.
"Jeremy," she said.
He turned and saw her. He started to smile, but it faded away.
"Eve," he said. "How are you?"
"Fine," she said. But that wasn't what she meant to say. She meant to say she was falling to pieces, her heart broke, her life in shambles, but the words wouldn't come.
"Where's Ben?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said. "Back with his wife, I guess. We're not together."
Jeremy nodded. "Sorry to hear that."
"I broke up with him," Eve said, wanting him to understand. "I sent him away. I remembered what you said. 'If he cheats on his wife, why wouldn't he cheat on you?' I should have listened."
"He cheated on you," Jeremy asked with a flash of anger in his voice.
Surely that meant something, she thought. "No, but I realized he would. I realized the love of his life was him." She laughed.
Jeremy took a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry to hear things didn't work out. It's good to see you. I've got to go. I'm leaving New York in a couple of days. I have a lot of packing still to do. Got a job in Boston."
"Oh," she said. "Boston. Good. Good. Is it one you wanted?"
"It's a job," he said. "I've always liked Boston." He grinned. "Great clam chowder."
She laughed to keep from crying out. He's moved on, she thought. He's moving away.
"It's good to see you," he said. "You look...beautiful." He smiled. "Well, take care. Tell your parents I said hi."
"I will," she said. "You take care. Enjoy that chowder."
And he walked away while she stood in a crowd of strangers and she realized that would be her life--to always be alone in a crowd.
"No!" she said. She took three quick steps and grabbed his arm. "Jeremy, wait."
He turned back, his face surprised. "What?"
She couldn't find the words.
"What, Eve?" he asked again. "I need to go."
"Okay," she said. "Can we talk outside? Just for a minute."
He looked down at the floor. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Don't you think we've hurt each other enough? I can't take any more."
She swallowed. "Just for a minute. I need to tell you a few things. It won't take long."
He took a deep breath. "For a minute."
They found a bench in the tiny park across the street.
"Well," Jeremy said. "What do you want from me, Eve?"
"Nothing," she said, but her heart called her a liar. "I needed to apologize."
"No," he said. "No. I don't want to do this."
"Please," she said. "I just wanted to know how sorry I was. How I would give anything to go back and fix things."
"Eve, we're--"
"I know you're not in love with me anymore," she said. "I know we can't go back. And that you don't want to. You've moved on. Good. I'm glad. I want you to be happy." She could feel the tears behind her eyes threatening to overflow. "I wanted you to know I will always want the best for you."
He looked away.
She wiped her eyes. Time to go. Time to walk away. Time to let him walk away. Time to face the bleakness ahead. She needed a few moments to gather her strength.
He stood and took a couple steps away. She wanted to weep, but she didn't. This was the result of her decisions. She had made them, and she would live with them. She had enough courage to do that.
She rose. "I'd better let you go. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
He turned, his face shadowed. "I'm at a place in my life--"
"You don't have to explain," she said. "I understand." She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "We had something lovely, and I broke it. I didn't mean to. But I guess that doesn't mean a thing. I wanted you to know I miss you. Oh how I do."
"Let me finish," he said. "I'm at a place in my life where there are more good-byes than hellos. More people lost than found."
She watched him, almost afraid to breathe.
"Comes with getting older," he said with a short laugh. "You can't imagine how...lost I've felt without you. How empty. But then I saw you with him, and I was angry. It was better to be angry than empty. But now...."
He was silent for longer than she could bear, but she bore it anyway. Please God please, she prayed. Another chance and I won't blow it. Please oh please.
"Too many goodbyes," he said finally. "Not enough hellos. I don't want that for my life. I don't want to tell you goodbye." He looked at her. "Hello. How are you? I missed you. I missed you."
She sobbed and launched herself into his eager arms.
...This is how one story ended and a new one began...
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Thanks for reading.)
By Stephen B. Bagley
...This is how one story ended...
Eve walked into Milligan's with her friend Bette, and as always, her eyes searched the restaurant for his shoulders and that ratty leather jacket and his soft worn hat that felt like velvet when she touched it. For seven weeks, she had searched all their places. The coffee shop, the bookstore, the library, the pier, the Seafood Shack. But Jeremy had disappeared from her life.
She didn't know how to live without him, but she was trying to learn how. She took a gym class, went out to movies with Bette and her other friends, and focused on work, turning out reports with an efficiency that even her boss noticed. A couple of guys--Kevin from Sales and Joel from Receivables--asked her out, and she said yes. Nice enough dates, and she had enjoyed them. Kevin even made her laugh, and Joel was sweet. But she kissed them good night at the door.
Bette threaded her way through the crowd, looking for a table. Eve followed, wondering when she would stop feeling that pit in her stomach when she didn't see him. She stumbled and caught herself on the edge of a table. The men seated at it smiled at her. She apologized, backed away, turned toward Bette, and saw Jeremy.
He didn't see her. He stood by a table talking to two other men. The crowd closed between them, and she lost sight of him. For a moment, she paused, feeling her heart beating hard. Then she pushed forward, leaving Bette behind, weaving her way forcefully toward her last chance.
"Jeremy," she said.
He turned and saw her. He started to smile, but it faded away.
"Eve," he said. "How are you?"
"Fine," she said. But that wasn't what she meant to say. She meant to say she was falling to pieces, her heart broke, her life in shambles, but the words wouldn't come.
"Where's Ben?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said. "Back with his wife, I guess. We're not together."
Jeremy nodded. "Sorry to hear that."
"I broke up with him," Eve said, wanting him to understand. "I sent him away. I remembered what you said. 'If he cheats on his wife, why wouldn't he cheat on you?' I should have listened."
"He cheated on you," Jeremy asked with a flash of anger in his voice.
Surely that meant something, she thought. "No, but I realized he would. I realized the love of his life was him." She laughed.
Jeremy took a deep breath. "Well, I'm sorry to hear things didn't work out. It's good to see you. I've got to go. I'm leaving New York in a couple of days. I have a lot of packing still to do. Got a job in Boston."
"Oh," she said. "Boston. Good. Good. Is it one you wanted?"
"It's a job," he said. "I've always liked Boston." He grinned. "Great clam chowder."
She laughed to keep from crying out. He's moved on, she thought. He's moving away.
"It's good to see you," he said. "You look...beautiful." He smiled. "Well, take care. Tell your parents I said hi."
"I will," she said. "You take care. Enjoy that chowder."
And he walked away while she stood in a crowd of strangers and she realized that would be her life--to always be alone in a crowd.
"No!" she said. She took three quick steps and grabbed his arm. "Jeremy, wait."
He turned back, his face surprised. "What?"
She couldn't find the words.
"What, Eve?" he asked again. "I need to go."
"Okay," she said. "Can we talk outside? Just for a minute."
He looked down at the floor. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Don't you think we've hurt each other enough? I can't take any more."
She swallowed. "Just for a minute. I need to tell you a few things. It won't take long."
He took a deep breath. "For a minute."
They found a bench in the tiny park across the street.
"Well," Jeremy said. "What do you want from me, Eve?"
"Nothing," she said, but her heart called her a liar. "I needed to apologize."
"No," he said. "No. I don't want to do this."
"Please," she said. "I just wanted to know how sorry I was. How I would give anything to go back and fix things."
"Eve, we're--"
"I know you're not in love with me anymore," she said. "I know we can't go back. And that you don't want to. You've moved on. Good. I'm glad. I want you to be happy." She could feel the tears behind her eyes threatening to overflow. "I wanted you to know I will always want the best for you."
He looked away.
She wiped her eyes. Time to go. Time to walk away. Time to let him walk away. Time to face the bleakness ahead. She needed a few moments to gather her strength.
He stood and took a couple steps away. She wanted to weep, but she didn't. This was the result of her decisions. She had made them, and she would live with them. She had enough courage to do that.
She rose. "I'd better let you go. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
He turned, his face shadowed. "I'm at a place in my life--"
"You don't have to explain," she said. "I understand." She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "We had something lovely, and I broke it. I didn't mean to. But I guess that doesn't mean a thing. I wanted you to know I miss you. Oh how I do."
"Let me finish," he said. "I'm at a place in my life where there are more good-byes than hellos. More people lost than found."
She watched him, almost afraid to breathe.
"Comes with getting older," he said with a short laugh. "You can't imagine how...lost I've felt without you. How empty. But then I saw you with him, and I was angry. It was better to be angry than empty. But now...."
He was silent for longer than she could bear, but she bore it anyway. Please God please, she prayed. Another chance and I won't blow it. Please oh please.
"Too many goodbyes," he said finally. "Not enough hellos. I don't want that for my life. I don't want to tell you goodbye." He looked at her. "Hello. How are you? I missed you. I missed you."
She sobbed and launched herself into his eager arms.
...This is how one story ended and a new one began...
(Copyright 2017 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. Thanks for reading.)
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