We, a compact group of twelve, gathered at the firehouse. All appeared in good spirits and seemed ready to discuss writing. Ernie Ovitz started us off on a discussion as he handed out an article he’d printed. How important is it to take a break from intense study? Educators have determined that regular intervals are essential to learning for students, especially younger ones. Admittedly, most of our group are not youngsters, but we are students. We research to make our stories, poems, essays, and such accurate, believable, and enjoyable. Also, the act of writing can be exhausting, even stressful. Learn to take a break before you start making silly mistakes. Lord knows I make enough errors without adding stress or exhaustion.
We should look at our stories as well. Do we drone on and on about a subject; how about long, action-packed scenes with little rest between conflicts. Have you ever read a story that made you tired of trying to follow the action? Stories, as well as writers, have to take a break sometimes. Don’t exhaust your reader; they might decide to take a break and not return.
Our discussion on this subject was fascinating. I think everyone present voiced an opinion or suggestion.
A few weeks back, I received an email from a journalist in Australia. He wanted to know if I knew a writer named Bruce Haedrich and if I would share Bruce’s contact information. Well–we all know Bruce and respect his skills. But, I do not share contact information unless approved by the writer. I contacted Bruce, and he said, “Sure, why not.”
An essay Bruce shared with us has touched off an international discussion about environmental concerns. A Senator in Australia quoted some parts of Bruce’s story in a public forum. Bruce entitled his story, The Shocking Naked Truth. Look it up on the internet. Reaction to the piece elicited comments from many parts of the world. Good going, Bruce. I’m not sure if you’re famous or notorious, what do you think?
We did move on from there to the reading portion of the meeting and heard six remarkable pieces.
John Hearon started the evening with the first half of an essay as Why I Became A Teacher. He had me with the opening statement, “Teaching is like fishing; you have to use the right bait.” A former plumber, John’s encounter with two teachers from New Jersey made an impression on him. I can hardly wait for the second installment to learn more about our John.
Do you know an Empath? We do. Our own Tish McAuley writes about the ups and downs of being an Empath. Is it a gift or a curse? Working in a store, meeting, and interacting with hundreds of people each day was almost too much for Tish. Her solution was to seek employment with less interaction. We wish you the best in your new endeavor, Tish. Here is my impression of what she must face. Imagine standing in the middle of the NYSE trading floor at the peak of trading and trying to hold a calm conversation with a soft-spoken person. How could any sane person block out all that noise, shouting voices, and blurred activity? Now, imagine having the thoughts of everyone around you creeping into your mind. Nuff Said!
Hello Joe, by Don Westerfield brought a lump to my throat as a foxhole on Normandy’s Omaha Beach is the setting for an unearthly meeting between a doughboy and a GI during the Second World War. Some gave all!
Are you old enough to remember the golden days of radio? Bruce Haedrich is, and he’s written a story about an old radio. Entitled Atwater Kent, Bruce read us the first half of his story set in the backwaters of a summer retreat in Maine. An old-timer who runs an electronics repair shop in the village dusts off the old vacuum tube tester and checks out the old radio. He hands out some wisdom, along with his expertise, “That old radio may just change your life.” I can’t wait to hear the conclusion of this story.
True Crime is a problematic genre with which to work. Jim Aube brings us an untitled piece looking into corruption in a small police force in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick. A local sex worker is murdered in a seedy neighborhood on a frigid night. Nobody but the killer knows it yet. A bartender at the local watering hole closes up for the night and takes a shortcut through an alley on her way home. The nearly nude body lies in the snow next to a dumpster. Responding officers rush through the investigation because it’s cold. Did they discount the importance of the dead girl due to her employment and lifestyle?
Life in the west was hard in the late eighteen-hundreds. Hard for the settlers, hard for the soldiers, hard for the natives. As more people move in, the Native Americans are forced off their lands and out of their hunting grounds. James Kelly brought us a chapter from his newest work, These Sacred Lands. Mahan Bend station is a trading post and way station for wagon trains bound to new territories. Men, women, and children of all nationalities stop to resupply or rest for a few days. The sutler recognizes unusual movement from a marauding band of Sioux or maybe Pawnee. He warns the small band of settlers resting at the post. The women hide a group of children in a ravine about a mile from the outpost. Three days later, an Army patrol comes across the children wandering in the wasteland. Why are they there?
All too quickly, the evening came to an end. Our next meeting is on May 18th, and we will be looking for you there. We ran a little short of time with the readings and discussion. Richard Cope and Susan Haley will get the early opportunities to read and share their work with us at the upcoming meeting.
Until then – KEEP ON WRITING!
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