Your One Wild & Precious Life

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean –
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down –
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

– Mary Oliver

School? At My Age?

Photo by Startup Stock Photos on Pexels.com

If you’ve been to this blog before, you likely know that I’m a writer. A fiction writer, to be specific. And no matter what anyone tells you, writers are never done learning. Some of us teach ourselves, others search out writing coaches, workshops and online courses. All in an effort to strengthen our writing chops and stay relevant. Not quite a year ago, I joined the Golden Crown Literary Society so that I might network and make some connections in LGBT+ writing circles. Shortly after that, I applied to the GCLS Writing Academy.

I’m not ashamed to admit I’m middle-aged, so why would I want to go back into a learning environment?

As a writer and curious human being, I never assume that I’m done learning. I’m constantly asking questions – I guess that part of me never grew up. The GCLS Writing Academy came highly recommended by a number of authors on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, many of whom have gone on to award-winning careers. They all advised that if I was willing to put in the work, that I would absolutely come out of the program a better writer. So I applied for one of the available scholarships, sent along my first ten pages of my mystery novel in progress and crossed my fingers. I was stunned and elated when I got word that I’d been accepted into the Writing Academy and had won the inaugural Erica Abbott Mystery Scholarship. Why? Because my writing, and my quest to improve it, and my dream of publication by a publisher (better than the first one) felt validated. Like someone else finally agreed that I had potential. 

Maybe there was hope for me and my dream yet.

I’ve been in waiting mode since I’ve been welcomed to the GCLSWA. Waiting for the book list, waiting for September when classes start. I have a manuscript picked out that I’ll be working on as we go through the 9 month program. I know, I’m being impatient and the folks that run the Writing Academy probably still have a hundred things to do, but I’m fairly beside myself with excitement. Over a writing program. Writing school. School.

At my age?

Hell, yeah!

Because I’m just a little bit closer to learning how to properly write the stories that have been rattling around in my head. A little bit closer to changing someone’s life with fiction, like stories changed my life all those years ago. And just a little bit closer to giving back to the LGBTQIA+ community.

How do you, as an adult, feel about school?

A River, A Soccer Ball And An Elderly Woman Walk Into A Bar…

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/carolyn-mcbride/

Adelaide put another stick of wood in the stove and closed the door, feeling every one of her 80 years. She filled the kettle and set it on the flat blacktop. Tomorrow, she would not have her evening cup of tea here. 

Hit the link to read the rest!

Or maybe this is more your style;

When she’d expressed an interest in retiring, Mack had laughed at first. At least until he realized she was serious. Then he’d peered at her through narrowed eyes and shook his head.

“People in our business don’t retire. You know that.”

“I don’t want to be someone else’s loose end, Mack,” she’d told him. “I want to live long enough to have silver hair and grandchildren.”

“Then you’re in the wrong business, Dante. You know that.” As if they’d not even had the conversation, he sent her out on another job….

Or maybe you prefer bodyguard tales;

Only an arm-length away from the first female president, a flash in the crowd caught my attention.

“Gun!” I screamed. “Down, down!” I dove for Alexis, felt she and Harper go down beneath me and wondered why Harper had punched me in the chest…

Three short, entertaining short stories that might surprise you. I’d love to hear what you think!

An Honour And Big Shoes

Once in a lifetime, some folks are lucky enough to be the recipient of a life-altering gift. As far as I know, I’ve never been able to count myself among them.

Until this week.

Back in late autumn of last year (2020), I joined the Golden Crown Literary Society, a leading literary organization for editors, publishers, readers, writers, and friends/supporters who celebrate books about women loving women. A couple of months later, I applied to their writing academy. I was tickled pink when I got an acceptance letter! Their writing academy has educated, bouyed, supported and kick-started the careers of many authors. But as with quality education in anything we’re passionate about, it wasn’t free. They offer payment plans, so I wasn’t worried. Too much.

Just a couple of days ago, I was thrilled beyond words (which is saying a lot!) to find out that I’d been chosen to receive the very first Erica Abbott Mystery Scholarship! Erica Abbott was beloved and cherished by the lesfic community and when she passed away, she left a void that can never be filled. She was a friend to many and an accomplished and gifted writer as well. It is an unfathomable honour to be the first recipient of a scholarship in her name.

I have very large shoes to fill.

The Golden Crown Literary Society has apparently seen merit and potential in my writing, and it’s a mind-blowing opportunity to be accepted into the writing academy. I have a responsibility not to waste this moment…this gift. At the same time, I am reminded of the power the written word can have. Empires have been crumbled, or fortified with words. Swaths of wilderness and the animals that live in them have been saved or brought to ruin with a written word. The environment, and we ourselves can be saved with a series of words.

The pen is indeed mightier than the sword.

Tell me about a gift you recieved that changed your life, or the way you viewed something.

HIstory Meets Modern Day

There’s a lot to be said for experimentation in writing. Especially if it’s a genre a writer hasn’t tried before. The writer can try new points of view, new tropes or maybe new settings. Sometimes, writing in a genre they’ve not written in before can reveal new aspects of the person behind the keyboard.

Once upon a time (I promise this isn’t a fairy tale) I would have said I avoided romance books like the plague. Except, over time, I haven’t been. I read and review quite a few #wlw (women-loving-women) romance novels, mysteries and literary fiction books. I’ve also been reading a number of “straight” Western romances, particularly those set in the late 1800s. I seem to have developed a fondness for them, actually. There’s something intriguing about a woman setting off to make a life for herself, and marry a man she’s only ever written to and yet never seen. Talk about an adventure with a big helping of risk! What if the gent had misrepresented himself, or the woman had and her new man no longer wanted her? Or if they hit it off, what if she was woefully unprepared for the amount of work involved in homesteading? Anything could happen…wildfire, flood, a failed crop could lead to famine, their stock could die…

Life on the frontier was tough!

But all the while I’ve been reading these tales of risk, bravery and eventual love, an idea had been growing in the back of my mind. I could write one of these but put it in a place I know.

Northern Ontario.

There aren’t as many historical records that tell us about matrimonial situations in the bush as there are for life on the prairie, but that’s where imagination comes in.

I know how winters are up here. I know how fierce hungry, wild animals can be. I know how a wolf howl can send shivers down a spine.

So, to that end, one of the pieces of fiction I’ll be working on over the next few months is a historical romance novel. The story of how Clara Livingston and Josiah Hunter make a life for themselves in the Canadian woods in 1860.

I’ll share behind-the-scenes glimpses and excerpts if you like, as well as tidbits of research. Let me know if this sounds like something you’d be interested in.

I do hope you’ll come along for the ride!

Living History ~ The Continuation

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I’ve recently written a new short story that I shared part 1 with you yesterday, and it’s all thanks to Reedsy. You see, every Friday morning, they put out a shortlist of prompts in a contest. The whole idea is that a writer has to take one of five prompts, write a story between 1000-3000 words and submit it before the next Friday. There’s a cash prize involved to sweeten the pot. 

(Sound interesting? Check it out here)

So a couple of weeks ago, that’s what I did. Here’s the prompt,

Write about someone who never planned to make history but is now about to deliver a speech in front of millions.  

Here’s part 2, and the conclusion of that story.

****

When I regained my senses, I was lying in a hospital bed. Alexis was on one side of my bed, and Harper the other.

“You saved my life,” she said. “You really did take a bullet for me. Thank you isn’t sufficient,” Her whiskey-brown eyes were damp.

“Just doing my job, Madame President.” 

I turned my attention to Harper. “You know, for a second, I thought you really had punched me the way you used to threaten me when we were younger.”

Harper shook her head. “I wouldn’t have…”

“I know,” I smiled a little. We’d grown up three houses apart, and no matter how often she’d threaten to kick the stuffing out of me, we were best friends.

“I owe you a great deal.” Our newest President said. “Not just introducing Harper to me all those years ago, but today…” Emotion overwhelmed her and she couldn’t finish.

“No Ma’am, you don’t owe me a thing. Just promise me you won’t give away my job while I recover.” I replied.

“Your job is yours as long as you want it, no matter what condition you’re in!”

Thank you, Ma’am, I’ll be out of here faster than a speeding bullet.”

They both groaned.

“Too soon?” I asked.

The End

Living History

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com

I’ve recently written a new short story that I’d like to share with you, and it’s all thanks to Reedsy. You see, every Friday morning, they put out a shortlist of prompts in a contest. The whole idea is that a writer has to take one of five prompts, write a story between 1000-3000 words and submit it before the next Friday. There’s a cash prize involved to sweeten the pot. 

(Sound interesting? Check it out here)

So a couple of weeks ago, that’s what I did. Here’s the prompt,

Write about someone who never planned to make history but is now about to deliver a speech in front of millions.  

Here now, is part one of the short story that I submitted. Part two will be posted tomorrow.

****

She stood there, just inside the doors, going over her speech one more time, and I couldn’t help but think that I was gazing at history in the making.

Herstory, perhaps.

I was assigned as her bodyguard the day she decided to run for the White House. The first woman to make it this far, and an Independent at that, there was no way I was turning down this assignment. Rarely was I more than five steps away from her in public. Only her girlfriend got closer to her. Her life was in my hands – my responsibility. And now Alexis Kennedy was about to step out and accept the position she’d pursued since she left professional soccer.

The voice of the previous First Lady broke through my thoughts, “It is my great honor and pleasure to introduce President-Elect…Alexis Kennedy!”

“Soccer Ball is on the move,” I spoke quietly into my mic and followed Alexis and her girlfriend Harper through the double doors.

The applause was deafening, like a massive waterfall that never stopped. When she stepped up to the podium, I took my position twelve feet away and to her left. Too far away as far as I was concerned, but that was her rule at events like this. Never mind the shooting six months ago that had rattled all of us, the country included. Never mind that she was a target for all kinds of homophobes and haters alike.

No, Alexis had to prove to the world that she would not be beaten, not be intimidated and would never back down. 

The crowd was invitation-only, but I never let my guard down with this many people in attendance. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and had eyes only for her. I wasn’t surprised to see more women than men in the crowd, but still, I remained watchful. 

She wore a snow-white pantsuit that set off her dark hair, and a bright, engaging smile as she waited for the applause to die down. Nature had blessed her with excellent bone structure and I knew she worked hard to maintain her classic good looks. But what drew people in was her charm and intelligence. She could debate foreign policy as if she’d been born to it. She had a domestic plan too I knew, formed by long hours of listening to policy-makers, and people that had served before her.

I watched as she shifted her weight off her left leg. I knew the sign – her knee was bothering her. The doctors had predicted a full recovery, but a shattered knee joint will heal, or not, as it wants. Clearly today was not a good day.

I lifted my sleeve and spoke into my cufflink mic. “Bring Soccer Ball’s cane just inside the door, please. She’ll want it as soon as she’s inside.”

Alexis refused to use the cane one minute more than she had to in public, no matter how often anyone told her it did not make her look weak. That was just the way she was. Determined, stubborn and confident.

Finally, she held up both hands.

“My friends,” she began. “It is the greatest privilege of my life to be standing before you this afternoon. I am deeply touched by your trust in me, and in this wonderful country we call home. I would not be standing up here without the support of so many people. I’ve always called Harper my rock, and this journey would have been a thousand times more difficult without her love.”

The crowd went wild while Harper turned red.

“I have one of the greatest teams of supporters, volunteers that braved all kinds of weather to do their part to make history. And together, we’ve done just that. Together, we can each step up and pitch in and look after not only ourselves but our neighbors, too. The color of our skin or who we love doesn’t matter. We all bleed the same, grieve the same and want the same things. We live, breathe, rise or fall as one. Together we can put our friends and neighbors back to work, provide children with more opportunities than ever before, go further in space and be free to hope once more. A little over a hundred years ago, this moment would have been called a fantasy. Women had no say in political matters, women were told who they could love and spend their lives with, and they certainly would not have been allowed to run this great country!”

Many in the crowd verbally agreed with her and nodded.

“I will not betray your trust in me. Those of you who voted for me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Those of you who voted for someone else…thank you for taking part in such a historical moment. You helped strengthen the cornerstone of our democracy by simply exercising your right to vote. I will be your president too. The coming days will not always be easy, and we will not always agree. Our government will not be able to solve every roadblock we face but I will work with all of my colleagues to find solutions where we can. I serve at the pleasure of the people, and I believe that together we can restore this great nation. We can bring back hope, make prosperity an attainable dream for people of all economic backgrounds, and make our streets, schools and stadiums safe again. We can rise up, drawing our neighbors, friends and family with us. We can put aside our differences and focus on what makes us equals, and carve a better way forward for all. Join me in the days to come, work beside me to make our beloved country a land of peace and prosperity for everyone. And one day in the future, when historians look back to this, the first time a lesbian woman was voted into the highest office in the land, you will all be able to say that you stood shoulder to shoulder and took part in history!”

To say the crowd went wild would be an understatement. Women were crying, weeping openly, trembling at the emotional intensity. Men shouted, someone started chanting “Alexis, Alexis” and soon, every voice in that crowd carried the chant. Alexis gave up on the rest of her speech, which I knew was nearly done. She gestured to Harper, and they stood side by side, beaming. 

The crowd chanted for a long time, pouring their love over their newest President. The rest of the security detail and I inched closer, unable to hear each other even with the tech in our ears.

Finally, I saw Alexis turn her head and look for me. With a slow blink and an almost imperceptible nod, she and Harper began to make their way off the stage.

I raised my cufflink-mic to my mouth. “Soccer Ball is leaving the stage, tighten the net.”

My security team moved in and I stepped closer.

Only an arm-length away from the first female president, a flash in the crowd caught my attention.

“Gun!” I screamed. “Down, down!” I dove for Alexis, felt she and Harper go down beneath me and wondered why Harper had punched me in the chest.

To be continued tomorrow

There’s A New Voice In My Head

Bet that title up above grabbed your attention, did it? As attention-getting, as it is, it is also the truth.

I’ve put out a new issue of my newsletter, did you get it?

Yes? Good!

No? Do you want to be among the first to know about new fiction, occasional giveaways and subscriber-only freebies? You can either sign up for my newsletter here on my blog (look for the newsletter link under the logo) or by going here

Enquiring minds want to know…have you ever been called upon to solve a mystery? Let me know in the comments section below, no matter how small.

Infinite Worlds – An Excerpt

Today I wanted to share with you an exclusive sneak peek at a bit of ‘Infinite Worlds’.  In this bit, Coriander and Devi are having a conversation with the Chancellor of New Olympus. No sooner had they adjusted to finding an entire population and culture that they didn’t know existed, that planet’s ruler lays this on them…

“Among our Archives are documents that direct us to prepare our world for visitors from Earth,” Reatha said as she filled their cups with wine from her personal stock. “When I was declared Chancellor, I was shown these documents. Our ancestors have left instructions to encourage friendships with those from Earth, but also clear the way for people from your world to settle here on New Olympus if they choose to do so.” She settled on her lounge and regarded her guests seriously. “Dr. Baffin tells me that in your written history on Earth, there is a tradition of sharing a place with others through the written word?”
Coriander nodded. “Many years ago, when travel was more challenging, explorers would travel to different parts of the world and write about their adventures. The literature, what we call books, would describe far-off places and the people that lived there, as well as their culture. This encouraged others to travel and explore.”
“Exactly what our endeavor will require!” The Chancellor smiled.
“Which endeavor would that be, exactly?” Coriander asked with a furrow between her eyes.
“You will write such a book describing New Olympus and our customs for the people of Earth who might wish to know more about us. Then we will not be strangers to them, and when a way between our worlds is found, perhaps some of those Earthers will wish to come here.” Reatha said, matter-of-factly.
“Why do you want people from Earth to come here?” Devi asked.
“Dr. Baffin has told you that our Archive explains how New Olympus came to be populated, and named, correct?”
Devi and Coriander nodded silently.
“Then if our world was first inhabited by Earthers, it is reasonable to encourage such a thing once again. But consider this, when I was a child, I was taught that the beasts of New Olympus do not mate for life, but take many partners in order to increase the diversity of the species. I imagine this may be what the First Ones had in mind when they encouraged us to welcome Earthers to New Olympus.”
“So you want to increase the diversity of your people?” Coriander asked slowly.
“Indeed,” Reatha agreed, nodding. “I believe it would bring about growth, a widening of perspective and broaden our horizons in ways we cannot yet imagine! Think of the things we could all learn from one another, the possibilities are endless.”

 

Exciting stuff! Can you imagine the possibilities of finding another culture on a planet other than our own? How alien do you think they would be, or do you think they would be like us? Let me know in the comments section!