I am a member of the Women’s Fiction Writer Association (WFWA) since January 2021.
Current Story in Progress
Photography student Addison McDonel has lost heart. She gained entry into the master’s program at Rhode Island School of Design. Go her! But her coursework this first autumn? Substandard.
Hoping to rediscover her passion, she immerses herself where she first found her gift, in the wintry river bluffs of southeast Minnesota. Once again she jockeys with family—the usual squabbles with GenZ cousins, with Tante, and, sigh, the headache-inducing encounters with the ever-unimpeachable Aunt Heather.
Tante tells Addison to quit avoiding griefwork, quit hiding behind Daddy’s camera. But Heather knows Addison’s secret. Her culpability in Daddy’s death, which spurs Addison’s desire to leave home.
Then GenZ Keenan lands in the hospital unconscious, in serious condition. Addison can’t leave now.
Tante loves her family and the blufftop farm home.
Why speak of the past—hiding her East Prussian identity, the butchery of her family by the Soviet Red Army, the loss of her country. Her past cannot be undone.
But when Tante falls and hurts herself, a return to home is not assured. Not to mention those foolish GenZs have befriended a Russian. And why is Addison in such a hurry to leave?
But after the hate crime against Keenan, is there any such thing as a safe place.
Flash Fiction Contest, July 2022
Literary Agent Janet Reid offered a contest. I was included in the top 16 entries out of 29! But did not make the cut to the top 5. Awww. However, I love her comments, well, except for all the sentences about confusion. Good to know but not a good thing for a writer.
“The descriptions here are excellent. Where I foundered was "vanishing point." I had to look it up, but that's not the problem. I like looking up things. The problem was I didn't understand how becoming a vanishing point related to the story. Now, that may just be me. Ok, probably is.”
Flash fiction words: blonde bombshell, shadowy billionaire, perfect life. Can’t pair them like this!
She sneezed and sniffed.
“Like this?” He aimed the camera.
The viewfinder framed the shadowy grays of sky, river, and hills.
A breeze ruffled his blonde-tipped fake Frohawk with its perfect zig-zag design, wafted his musky pheromone cologne her way.
She sneezed again and wheezed. Shitty bombshell of a billionaire!
How do you tell this life-long boyo his taste stunk? The new camera, appropriated hairstyle, synthetic musk cologne—all for her sake.
Her eyes watered and itched.
“You have your stuff, darling?”
He was supposed to have been her next victim. Instead, he’d become her one and only vanishing point.
The Oak and The boomerang daughter, Fall 2018
WOW! Women on Writing Fall 2018 Short Story Contest. I placed in the top 10!
Non-Fiction: We Bring You Everything, and Tip it Out, Summer 2017
Compiled by Neil Paynter for Wild Goose Publications. I contributed to this anthology of new prayers from the Iona Community.
Flash Fiction Contest, May 2017
Again with Literary Agent, Janet Reid's blog, I entered her 100th Flash Fiction Contest and I was one of the finalists among 84 entries. Not a winner, but a finalist. Yay. Here's my 100-word story (words I needed to use in bold) and Janet's comment.
Breakfast
He asks about her date. Happily, she chatters. I place the milk pitcher. By him.
“Scapegallows,” he insults. Of course. “He wouldn’t know a fortissimo from a finocchio.” He eats his cornflakes.
Our daughter gazes, blankly.
Angered, I touch her shoulder, “Fatherly humor.”
He rolls his eyes.
Stiff-backed, I sit, “Finish your breakfast, dear. How was the band?”
She shrugs.
Her cannolo remains untouched. Damn him. Patient, I sip my Italian Roast. He stands—slender and handsome as ever—and scrams. I accept his tainted kiss, airbrush-style this morning. He leaves. Scapegoat.
And now? Anticipation! “How was your date?”
And Janet's comment? I love the perspective/s here. The dad is both the antagonist and still the mom’s true love (slender and handsome as ever.) And use of the word “scrams” gives us a sense that maybe dad understands what he’s done here. This is a lovely subtle piece of writing.
Sometimes it's the small things that make the story work.
Flash Fiction Contest, April 2015
I am one of the many and varied commenters on Literary Agent, Janet Reid's blog. Often, on Fridays, there's a Flash Fiction (100 words) contest. The caliber of entries is excellent. I squeaked with joy when I placed in the top 10 for the first time. Here's my entry, which needed to include the words: Dell, horse, long, ride, home.
The car tires hummed a strident refrain, ‘She’s seeing someone else, she’s seeing someone else.’ How ironic, now that gay marriage was legal. It felt like a knife to the heart.
In the backseat, the kids were zonked out after a frenetic day at the Wisconsin Dells Kalahari Waterpark. I focused on the freeway, steeling my nerves as I drove home.
That night, alone with her in the kitchen, my heart pattered like a mad hatter. “Sheila, let’s quit this horse—”
She knelt on her knees, tears of longing in her eyes, and a small box on her palm.
The Oak and The Boomerang Daughter, December 2014
I entered the Loft Winter Short Story (800 words) contest which needed to include a phrase overheard, found on a sign, in a book or seen in graffiti, etc. I used the phrase grief is the gray shape-shifter from Jodi Picoult's, The Storyteller.
Non-Fiction: Like leaves to the sun, May 2013
Compiled by Neil Paynter for Wild Goose Publications, I contributed to this anthology of Prayers for the 21st Century.
Non-Fiction: Faith Practices Resource, 2011, 2012
This was stipend work for the United Church of Christ’s Pilgrim Press. As part of a team, I worked with two Faith Practices: Honoring the Body and Encountering Scriptures. I created and wrote 54 activities for adult seekers and new church participants for each practice.
Non-Fiction: Making Sense of Lent, 2011
Reflections on mission using specific themes for the six Fridays before Easter Sunday for Wisconsin Conference United Church of Christ.
Non-Fiction: Iona Abbey, Scotland, 2009, 2010
Five articles for newspapers and newsletters about my experience of living and working in international community at the Abbey as the two-year programme worker from January 2007- December 2008.
Non-Fiction: Bringing Gospel and Gumbo Together, 2007
Two articles about people from four small churches who assisted in the continued rebuilding of New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.
Non-Fiction: Another World is Possible, 2005, 2006
I was one of eight pastors who studied at the Institute for Intercultural Studies and Research in San Cristobal de las casas in Chiapas, the southern-most state in Mexico. I wrote two articles and a short essay about our 10-day Pastoral Study Journey.
Family Saga, 1978, 1990’s-2003, 2012
About a widow and his four daughters, who marries a divorced woman with a daughter and a son.
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