Adelaide Literary Magazine No. 45, February 2021

Revista Literária Adelaide

Orbit

by Aracelly P. Campo (a.k.a. Bones)

Only in the souls of human beings
Can we see the displacement of sanity

Through its basic level of insanity
From this perspective
Which presents itself

Like an odd shaped sphere
Almost perfect

But not quite right
In its travel along a plane

Like the planets
With their enormous voids between them

So is the human mind
Disconnected and distorted

In its loneliness

Sanctuary

by Aracelly P. Campo (a.k.a. Bones)

Drown your creative powers in ancient gowns of gold
And enter the trip with a grip on reality

Find sanctuary in the hallucinations of artificial stimulation
And explore the barriers of your subconscious

To obtain the tangible presence that hides within the senses of logic and rules
Pools of water wash the essence of authority, but only a minority
Partake in the feast of the lyrical beast that is never unleashed

Siege, by dictators, our minds they imprison in a jail that has no reason to exist

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Crucifix of a serpent’s curse
Hearse of death comes only when your soul is lonely
Do not hide your pain shower yourself with drops of cool rain
Remember life is not a game to be lost for it is the host of this masquerade

Waltzes of hypocrisy play on
Ballrooms of marble opulent and kind
Never lie about the emotions we need to seek
Walking sticks among the soil we resemble
Yet we never assemble to cure the sickness we conjure
Luring the night that is coming to walk with you
Through the groove of a funky mood
That only absence of purity can provide a place to hide
Depravity of creation a strange function
That only the spiritual world can devise

About the Author

Aracelly P. Campo, a.k.a Bones grew up in Miami Florida.
An avid reader, she started writing poetry at the age
of nine. She writes in all types of poetic forms, but has
a special preference for dark verse. She enjoys nurturing
and collaborating with other poets and writers. She holds
degrees in communication and business from Florida
International University. As she would describe it, She’s an
explorer of darkness, the kind that lurks in our hearts and
seeps through the crack of our numbness.

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THEORY OF
RELATIVITY

by Abena Ntoso

Greetings to Hannah S. Jones

Dear lovely daughter, tongues and maimed lips.

Let us always expect full respect, nothing less. When advised to disregard
People will offer us much less at times, verbal traumas,
even hurl disrespect at us colorless bruises,
like fire and ice. bloodless scratches,

We have inherited tears. Ask: Who has the right to take aim at me?
A hunted peacock, or perhaps
If you are able to remain composed, a blindfolded trapper?
know that this is less Ay! how antiquated answers
a matter of choice issue from the moldy minds of
than one of habit. visionless victims.

When required to prove We do not gargle elixirs,
whether or not numb our grief,
it is wrong for someone to pattern our minds
dismantle your dignity, black and blue.

Ask: What have you been drinking? We do not sit afraid beside our bodies.
The lies of idols,
draped in oppression? You and I are heirs to a universally
Oh! how rationalization flows human inheritance.
ecstatically from contorted It is our habit to

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seek beauty in nature, Theory of Relativity
share joy in a moment,
sow dreams in abundance. I was waiting in line with you
and you
Do not for a moment think that this world and you
is a carefully tended garden and you are
a weed. and everyone else who wanted
something from God
May you sew grace within that day.
the folds of your robes
and spread them Some people wanted groceries
across the universe. and could afford them

When you keep company tickling giggle-faced baby boy
may it be in mutual humility leaning on the cart
and noble care. checking optimistic texts
unloading bursting red cherries
Dare to wear magnolia onto the conveyor belt.
flowers in your hair.
Or, at a place downtown
May you maintain 6:30am
the habit of knowing leaning
who you are crouching
at all times. hungry
against the wall with the door
that will open soon.

Some people wanted to fly
from countless airports

criss-crossing America
grasping wiggly kids
neck pillows
an assortment of 4oz bottles
along with various lives
that mattered.

Or, at various checkpoints and embassies
perspiring
sighing
clutching papers
pulling everything they own
into an alternate life.

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I shifted from one foot to the other

unwrapped another gum
ruminated luxuriously.
And it occurred to me,
if God peered into our eyes
and Peter smirked
and asked each of us what we were doing
just before we reached his pearly gates,
that our understandings of the word “waiting”
are not the same.

About the Author
Abena Ntoso is a full-time high school English teacher and
mother of two, originally from New York City, and currently
based in Houston, Texas. She returned to writing after a
20-year hiatus, during which she worked as an educational
technologist at Columbia University and later served as a
dentist in the U.S. Army.

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SPIRALS OF SOUND

by Lisa Molina

I

If One of us must die
I hope it is I.
When I thought my son with leukemia was dead, I screamed at God,
“Take me instead!”
The wish still stands inside my head.
The signs and clues around abound.
Reunions, forgivings,
Spirals of Sound.
Auspicious occurrings
Feel flashed and hot.
The soul, it knows
It is taught,
(It is taut.)

II

Reflecting that Leukemia
has horribly harmed so many is key;
Like my choir teacher’s son at 23, (the age of my son presently) she stoically tells me,
over French onion soup, quiche, and tea.
Asking me
about my son,
“But you can see him? And hear him? And talk to him?”
‘Yes.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Yes.’
I say gratefully--and guilty.
She’s now makes music out of her grief.
Holy Alchemy.

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III

My son, locked in a chamber two hours a day.
A chamber of oxygen with a tv he can play.
Thirty days of this;
Just so his jaw joint won’t break,
When the oral surgeon decides his wisdom teeth to take.
A chamber of memories also trapped in his mind:
The IV machines pumping constantly with might;
“Chuka-chuka-whoosh!”
“Chuka-chuka-whoosh!”
A life-giving mechanical heart.
Until a kink in the artery tube cries,
“Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!”
Startling, awakening us in the night.
Tubes, needles, blood, mouth sores, radiation, chemo, vomit, pain. Fear, fight to survive.
Then, the Aftermath..
Diseases of bones, hormones, heart.-
The poison that saved him will forever leave its mark..And
Bittersweet memories of a loyal dog’s “Bark!”
I pray, in his mind, body, soul, and heart
A spark.
Please, I beg
A searing, strong, survival spark.

IV

The graveyard.
The church.
My Swedish immigrant ancestors
Whose photos grace the church’s entrance wall.
My son with me.
Our family tree looking straight at me.
How much taller will it grow to be?
Reaching for the light it yearns see?

V

I slide. I slip. I fall. I yelp.
“Swish!” “Bang!” “Crunch!” “Help!”

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My bones are crushed.
My daughter sobs.
My mind is hushed.
No blood is gushed.

I’m stricken by pain, the ice, the shock;
The shock of
The love.
The need
For me, from she.
For me, from he.
For
Me?
Can it be?
And the doctor wonders aloud, “Where are your agonizing cries?” How do I tell her
I now feel free?

VI

Jackson, Sexton, Plath, and Woolf -
Witches, all, of Darkness and Light. Whispering always to me in the night:
“Live.”
“Live.”
“Give”.
“Give.”
VII
Patiently, passionately, purely,
Have I loved and been loved.
So. Therefore.
I, too, will refuse to leave.
I, in fact,
will Breathe....
Watching;
Waiting;
Never;
Abating.
Now my heart
Solemnly, soulfully, singing the rhythmic song of life-

“Chuka-chuka-whoosh!”
“Chuka-chuka-whoosh!”

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Prognosis Percentage

The boy, age 13 And that boy,
battling leukemia 3 times since he was 3, fighter of unrelenting hope,
asks the transplant doctor, is given 10 percent more,
so that he may cope.
“What are my chances of surviving, Dr. Lee?”
And he,
Dr. Lee locks eyes with boy, intentionally, in time,
and says, survived,
“40%.” the odds.

Furiously, insistently, Prognosis percentage?
boy pounds fist on table. It’s just a number to hear.
“I’ll take nothing less than 50!”
Negotiating for his life, desperately. For no quantification can suffice,
The value of my boy’s saved life.
There is a whiff of silence.
Air is hot.
The agonizing wait.

Doctor Lee’s eyes crinkle as he laughs,
offering out his hand, the boy’s to grasp.

“You’ve got it!” he says.

The deal is done.
The bidding won.
All parties agree.
Heartily.

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Septic Shock

Sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, It’s Death or Life.
your trembling hand in mine.
Your pounding heart is quickening. Blood pressure 60 over 30.
Blood pressure dropping. Heart racing bpm over 150.

Septic shock. I am struck silent
Again. gazing on your lips
And now-lashless closed eyes.
I gently stroke your 13 years-old cheek, No audible cries.
that nestled in my breast
before becoming sick. Suffering incessantly since you were 3.
Body weak. Now bald and moon-faced again,
Your spirit clings to me.
The chemo that destroyed the cancer
in your blood, We’re silently breathing in tandem
Has also, petulantly, poisoned any protection On the slippery life-ledge.
Of bacteria flood.
IV pumps whirring fast and louder-
Blood pressure still dropping.
More people entering. Jackhammers jumping.
Nurse clogs tapping. Accelerate and Scream.
Runaway train descending,
Units of blood hung from a second pole. Dark tunnel, terrifying dream.
Swaying, dripping, feeding.
“Chuka Chuka
The doctor arrives, CHUka CHUKA
orders the staff, CHUKA! CHUKAA!!”
“Speed the infusions to…”
(What? I don’t hear.) Then
although I sense the urgency. a calm.

Not quite able to look at me, I’m seeing coal black hair
she in the white coat says softly, blow wildly in the wind,
Not bare-headed in a cold, dark tomb.
“This is the critical point.” Hair, full and thick
As when you emerged from my womb.
Tensions rife;
Twists the knife: Spirits exhaling their baby breaths grace,
I know this doctor-speak; Whispering to me -

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“Memorize his pale, placid face. Turning to the doctor and nurses;
And be thankful he can’t hear Signs of belief?
the raging pumps’ pace.” In them, I see
visible relief.
My vision still upon you, The IV pumps slowing,
my mouth opens slightly gradually.
and feel my lips smile,
send my breath quietly. Shoulders and jaws
begin to let down;
Blood pressure beginning to arise. I gaze back on you
70 over 40 thinking, strangely,
BPM slowing to 140… “You need a new gown.”

Watching your chest rising, falling- Because you will, indeed,
Flashbacks. survive again this time.
Tiptoeing in your room Breath waves rolling onto the shore
as the sun would begin rising,
to see your belly breath- as the sun begins to rise.
Waves undulating; And shine.
Reaching the shore. Shine.

Wet.
Warm.
Saltwater.
Drops.

Are you really mine?

Desperately watching the monitors, I see,
blood pressure now 80 over 50.
BPM 130.

Waiting for the next numbers
to flash on the screen…
90 over 60
BPM 120.

Thank you,
thank you
numbers of rebirth!
I begin again to feel
The solid, living Earth.

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Garden of the Asylum

After swirling in the starry night Spiraling, spiraling, spiraling
I stand gazing at the garden Spinning, spinning, spinning
Created of paint Out of control
And madness. Whirling dervishes dancing
Finally permitted to exit the walls Inside my head?
Of the room in which he was
Forcefully kept, His final primal scream.
Shut in with his own
Mind, thoughts, nightmares, I can only stand silently
He is offered paints, a brush, a canvas, Steadying my feet
A voice. On the museum floor
Seeing what I alone can see
My mind’s eye begins to focus in Hearing the garden monsters’
On faces forming Death hums echoing.
In the plants, trees, paths. And close my eyes,
Faces contorted in agony My mind searching for the
Begging to be released. Room of Walls
I comment with astonishment. In which to safely be.
Yet- The humming gradually
No one else around me can Quiets, quiets, quiets
See these demon gargoyles protecting And I hear my husband’s voice,
Vincent’s Cathedral Visions. “Let’s head to the gift shop.”
Am I mad?
How do they not comprehend Yes.
This secret language Goodbye to Vincent’s
He speaks to me? Menacing garden faces.
Or is it Their hauntingly horrid humming
I also yearn to Calls to me still.
Escape the rooms, walls,
Relentless voices,
That cry out to me
In shrieking silence
Causing painful pounding beats,
Wailing winds of

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Lioness

The lioness leaps through the pen. Tear and rip through the
No longer caged. Organs, bone, tissue, heart,
No longer habitually fed by strangers. And skin-
The hide-
She hungers more each day, That covers everything.
hour, minute, second
To mine the depths of her own electric, An open, bloody wound
pulsating, constant spinning den of Healed only by
Ecstacies, burials, secrets, ghosts, Ink stains
Sins, births, deaths. Stitching the letters
Into single, salient, subservient,
The pen scratches,claws, digs, strong sentences.
and growls. The pangs of hunger
Then Roars. She so desperately endured
Finally-

Only then, can the lioness Satiated.

About the Author

Lisa Molina holds a BFA from the University of Texas. She
has taught high school English and theatre, served as
Associate Publisher of Austin Family Magazine, and now
works with students with special needs. Her poetry was
recently published in Indolent Books Journal and is soon
to be featured in “Eris and Eros Journal.” She finds joy in
talking books with her children and friends, writing, hiking,
and being near any body of water.

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ALL NIGHT

by John Raffetto

Visitation All Night

Time becomes a pixilated memory All I want is sleep,
of bliss and blood but a thousand nails
as the clock winds down. have hammered my eyelids open.
We pause to visit for a brief daze
as the foundation weakens I need sleep that keeps
while wonders compress wandering away for a drink
into petrified shadows a labyrinth at a 4am bar
of murky intrigue looking for action
forgotten in repetition near a quiet street
as the night strides where a windowless car
and blur into all others. ambles to an all-night drive-in
as a movie presents
a show time of reels
that have been running for decades,
the cries and laughter-
until a reel is replaced
with familiar scenes
I try to ignore
easing into
a carnival evening-
the only game in town.

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Vertical steel lace Last Rites
curving over streets
and alleys, I took time off from work.
a horizontal
Eiffel Tower The grave was dug by strangers
on elevated veins who buried a loved one below
of late 19th century, life’s cold memory,
cross braced all have grown away
above shadows and a wheezing fate
angular bits of sunlight. of a thousand early morning deaths
time meanders in capricious confusion
Rivets huddled by the erratic guillotine
intersect and thread which has the final laugh into
slow motion rails the vaporous night,
around wooden platforms as fragrant jasmine alert the gathering
as metal tokens to the great and glorious clouds of desire.
and windblown transfers
of phantom riders
whom settle into their stops.

Dappled city of light,
points backward
rattles forward
along rust washed
Lake Street
ghost factories.

Staccato rhythm
every five minutes-
El tower miles long
props itself up
from moist prairie asphalt.

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River Run

riverun past James
believe me it does
boats beyond timepiece curtains
there is no wake on the river.
riverun
turrified run
until the endless dry headstones
dam the cloudyphiz river.

an enigmatic trap door
opens
to a timeless dreamdeath
riverun at times
without an intricate Druidia
twist into fragments
of enlightened himhim
saintly laughter and punman
a shuttered riddle
sinagainsfake
for the final
riverun.

About the Author

John Raffetto: Some of his poetry has been published in
print and various online magazine such as Gloom Cupboard,
Wilderness House, BlazeVox, Literary Orphans, Arial
Chart, Olentangy Review & Exact Change. Nominated for
Pushcart Prize 2017. His book Human Botany was recently
released in 2020. Holds degrees from the University of
Illinois and Northeastern Illinois University. Worked as a
horticulturalist and landscape designer for many years at
the Chicago Park District which was a rich environment for
drawing inspiration for poems concerning nature, people
and the city. Formally an adjunct professor.

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IN DEFENSE OF
ISRAEL

by Regina Saad

Struggle of the Jewish People In Defense of Israel-

The crack of the afikomen: How might one have peace with a world
The broken cracker symbolizing struggle. which doesn’t want to have peace with you.
The struggle of the Seder finally ending.
From the ashes we rose
The rule to not ask dad any questions, In the name of Zion.
For it will cause the anguished
meal to run long; Ashes from gas which tried to replace our fire.
Our light almost went out
Yet, my brother’s curiosity always wins.
So the responsibility of kindling we took.
Hungry eyes stare at the seder plate, We disregarded the inhabitants prior--
Bitter herbs somehow become appetizing,
The smell of mom’s brisket wafting, teasing. In Haifa deceit lingers on the street
Like a fog,
Feet tap as my sister dissects the Hebrew,
Everyone’s pinkies dip in the wine, In the name of blue and white
Kachol V’lavan with might.
And hands anxiously flip the prayer book pages.
God taught us to act with an olive branch
I peek at the Manischewitz, But someone to accept we couldn’t find
Awaiting dad’s departure to steal a few gulps.
Since Maccabis in the early days
Mom smirks and pretends not to see. The days of let my people go...

Through the impatience the brisket is served, So we fight,
The afikomen is finally found, We bleed,
We weep,
And time with family is well spent. In the name of Go(l)d.

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About the Author

Regina “Gigi” Saad is Jewish studies major at the University of Florida. Incorporating her
passion for Judaica within her poetry has become a hobby of hers, and she is hoping to share
it with others.

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BLOWN AWAY

by Joan McNerney

Blown Away Brightly burning star fish...

I’m gonna have lunch with Do you wonder where you swim?
the sky. It’s been way too Wandering sky and ocean flying
long since we got together. floating now near shore line.
Many arms extended tugging
I’ll run downstairs through celestial weeds Irish moss.
hallways into bursts of blue. Grasping glowing orange disc
Perhaps never return to work, climbing beds of coral coral.
words, paper clips, bookshelves. Do you wonder where you swim
brightly burning star fish?
Who needs cash when there’s
so much green grass to hoard?
Forget about food. I’ll drink up
sunshine, nibbling juicy clouds.

O sky, you are my solar mate.
We will be faithful always.
Come home now...I will
never look at another.

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Live oak boughs Adelaide Literary Magazine
Cat Quartet

Boughs build archways as tips Winter
of trees touch each other. What That tiger cat with
was shaded green becomes winking green eyes tossing
nocturnal shadow. A up balls of red yarn.
crescent moon hangs from
heaven. Light tracing Spring
foliage falls dropping Inquisitive...
dusty deep upon ground. the gingersnap cat stares as
I get undressed.
Secrets lie inside the
edged shadow. Animals Summer
hide under darkness Black and white kitten
resounding through night lying under clothesline in
as leaves rustle. soft circles of sleep.
All changing except
this pattern of what Fall
is now formed. Windy afternoon
my calico cat leans forward
Shimmering against the cold.

That summer I wanted to About the Author
take off all my clothes.
Be naked under the sun. Joan McNerney’s poetry is found in many
Tango all over warm grass, literary magazines such as Seven Circle
so warm, warm. Press, Dinner with the Muse, Poet Warriors,
Blueline, and Halcyon Days. Four Bright
Noontime perfumed berries Hills Press Anthologies, several Poppy Road
and lush grass. Beneath honey Journals, and numerous Poets’ Espresso
locust through hushed woods Reviews have accepted her work. She has
We found this spring, four Best of the Net nominations. Her latest
a secret susurrus disco. title is The Muse in Miniature available on
Amazon.com and Cyberwit.net
My feet began two-stepping
over slippery pebbles.
Threading soft water, the sun
dresses us in golden sequins.

Your hand reaches for me.

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INTERVIEWS



STAN DUNCAN

Author of
THE FIRE ON POTEAU MOUNTAIN

1. T ell us a bit about yourself – something that we will
not find in the official author’s bio?

I don’t totally recall what was in the official bio, so some of this will overlap.

I am originally from Oklahoma and lived for some years in the small town up in the
Kiamichi Mountains where these stories took place. I have an embarrassing number of
degrees, two in religion and two in economics and a fellowship at Harvard. And I have
worked and published in both fields all my life. I was a college professor for a while and a
church pastor for a while and a wide variety of other jobs, like van driver, restaurant owner,
club pianist, and business commentator for public radio’s “MarketPlace.” Perhaps my most
daring job was in El Salvador, in the late 1980s, where I work as an economic development
advisor for a consortium of nonprofits in Central America during the region’s many civil
wars. It was the most exciting and dangerous period of my life, and is the setting for my
current novel.

2.  Do you remember what was your first story
(article, essay, or poem) about and when did you write it?

The earliest completed story that I can remember writing was for a creative writing class in
my Freshman year of college. It was a series of letters from a young woman off on her own
trying to assure her worried parents that she was fine. Each letter creates an increasingly
large (and false) world of many friends and a wonderful boyfriend. But when the family
evidently (in an unseen letter) has offered to come see her, her notes begin to change. They
start encouraging them to not come, and when the family doesn’t seem convinced, they say
that one-by-one her friends and boyfriend have either moved away or died and she is now
very sad, and that now if they still want to come and visit, they can.

It was overly obvious and a bit “too clever,” but I was trying to build on a theme that a lie
can go awry and have consequences, and I was eighteen and it was the best I could come up
with. At eighteen, I thought everything I wrote was great.

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3. What is the title of your latest book and what inspired it?

It’s called The Fire on Poteau Mountain, which is from the title of the last story in the col-
lection. It was written like a memoir of memories and stories of an aging pastor who once
served a small church in a small town called Heavener, Oklahoma. Each story is more or less
a stand-alone piece, but the setting and many of the characters interlock. I initially started
writing it to put down some of my own memories of that beautiful little place, but the
setting and characters soon took on a life all their own, and a collection of short stories (all
fiction) began to emerge. Over many years, when I would occasionally run across a difficult
conflict or complicated person, or some interesting human interaction, I would wonder how
that person or event might be “spun out” into a longer story with new twists and turns, and
then eventually it became a book-length collection..

4.  How long did it take you to write your latest work and how
fast do you write (how many words daily)?

I don’t write fast at all. The Fire on Poteau Mountain was collected over about ten years. A few
years ago I published a book on economic globalization, about the ways that problems and
issues of trade and finance harm poor people around the world, and that also took about ten
years. I hope that’s not the pattern for the rest of my writing life; I’m hopeful that this next
one will break that pattern.

I don’t have a real sense of how many words per day that I can put out. It’s been several
months since I wrote on a daily basis. Since then life has been filled with retirement, a major
move, COVID-19, and chasing love. Some things demand priority even when I don’t want them to.

5. Do you have any unusual writing habits?

Probably not. For many years my most consistent time of writing was in the early evening
after work, when I would settle into the couch, turn on some music, pour a glass of wine, and
then write. I’m retired now, so I’m hopeful that after the dust of the new life settles, I can
recreate that habit (but with much more time for sitting and writing).

6. I s writing the only form of artistic expression that you utilize, or
is there more to your creativity than just writing?

No. My biggest creative expression today is playing and composing music for the piano. I
have boxes and boxes of my (largely unpublished) sheet music for bands or choirs or solo
piano. I also do pen and ink drawings that have sometimes turned out well. In the past I did
some nice wood carving and clay molding and wire sculpting, but it’s been a long time.

I also think I’m pretty good at playing the spoons, but so far I haven’t seemed to have
been able to develop much of a fan base for that particular gift. (Maybe someday…)

7. Authors and books that have influenced your writings?

There are so many that it is hard to choose, but here are a few great writers who have fed
and inspired me. John Steinbook, Norman Maclean, Pat Conroy, Andre Dubus II, Margaret

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Atwood, Toni Morrison, Gabriel García Márquez, Ralph Ellison, Ian McEwan, Annie Dillard,
Anthony Doerr, Eudora Welty, Walker Percy, and several others I can’t think of right now.

8.  What are you working on right now?
Anything new cooking in the wordsmith’s kitchen?

The book I am working on now is set during the eighties in El Salvador, where I once lived
and worked and loved and nearly died. And it is inspired by those experiences. The tentative
title right now is Zacamil, the name of a neighborhood in the capital city, San Salvador, which
was a center of political organizing during the war. My protagonist is an economics professor
from the US who moves there after his wife died to do research on economic development
projects. While there, in addition to encountering the politics and violence of the war, he
also meets and has a relationship with a widow and her two children, who live in the Zacamil
neighborhood. That area was bombed and strafed and nearly leveled by the government for
over a week in November, 1989, resulting in over eight hundred people being killed. And it
is the setting for the final conflict and climax of the novel.

9.  Did you ever think about the profile of your readers?
What do you think – who reads and who should read your books?

This is very hard to say, but it is something I’ve tried to understand many times. Most of my
writing before now has been in religion, economics, and human rights, so my reading audience
will probably be at least slightly different. I am hopeful that they will be people who are versed
in, or appreciative of, southern literary (slightly Gothic) fiction. That is a genre that I appreciate
and live in, and hopefully have written in. My stories are filled with wife-beaters and addicts
and molesters, and heroes. Even the good are flawed and some of the villains want to be free
of their demons. I think people who have been wounded and discredited, and loved and for-
given will find a voice in these stories. I know that I have, and I’m one of those people.

10. Do you have any advice for new writers/authors?

Don’t ever give up. And don’t put it off (we all are going to die, and your best seller may die
with you, if you don’t watch out).

Don’t pronounce or preach or proclaim on social or political issues. If you want/need to
express them, let it come out of the depths of the story line or the passions and experiences
of the character.

Don’t try to sound overly grand or poetic. Let the dialog sound human and engaged and
real. False-sounding dialog kills a good scene.

Avoid cliches or common expressions. They are fine in your own conversation, but they
can mortally wound dialog in a work of fiction. If you must use one, put it in quotes, or have
your character say, “well, as the saying goes” or “as they used to say….”

Strive for authentic renderings of humanity. A weak storyline can still be a successful
book if the reader identifies with and falls in love with, the heart and hurts of the protagonist.

There are many more, but I’m a retired pastor, economist and van driver, so what do I know?

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11. What is the best advice (about writing) you have ever heard?

Ann Lamott wrote a book some years ago called Bird by Bird, on how to write. I never read
it, but I heard her give a talk on it one time and she told the story of its title. When she was
young and couldn’t get her mind around how to write a term paper about birds because
there were too many of them and she didn’t know how to start. So she went to her father
for some advice, and he said to simply take it “Bird by bird.” Perfect. My best advice. Step
by step. Move forward. Much of what you will write will be bad. But you’ll never get to the
good stuff unless you plow along, putting one bird in front of the other.

12.  How many books do you read annually and what are you reading now?
What is your favorite literary genre?

A few years ago, when I was on a more regular reading schedule (which is to say, when I was
married), I would probably read about fifteen to twenty books a year. But when life hit a
hefty bump in the road (which is to say, when I was divorced), it dropped considerably. May-
be two or three books a year. I still read a lot for work, because I had to, but pleasure reading
took a dive. Today my reading has gone up, but a lot of it is histories and journals and novels
about El Salvador during their civil war, because that is what I am also writing about. Some of
that is still quite pleasurable. For example, right now I’m reading Sandra Benitez’ The Weight
of All Things, which is a beautifully written story of a young boy traveling across the country
trying to find his mother after they became separated in a brutal shooting and panic in the
capital city. I commend it to anyone.

13.  What do you deem the most relevant about your writing?
What is the most important to be remembered by readers?

What I hope is the case is that my characters are real and that they speak to our common hu-
manity. They struggle to make sense out of a life that is in chaos and mystery and sometimes
make it and sometimes don’t. I strive for their voice to be real and not affected. I want their
lives to describe and explain, and hopefully heal, the rifts and tears in our shared aspirations
and realities. That’s a little loose and vague, but it’s as close as I can come to touching the
deep philosophical, theological heart of my stories. Even my new book, that has the struc-
ture of an adventure novel, has a lead character who moves to a developing country to find
himself. He has been broken in despair because his wife died suddenly and he blames him-
self and he hopes that this over-the-top “mid-life crisis” will help heal him and give him the
sense of something close to forgiveness. That is the real heart of the story, not whether or
not he solves the mysterious crimes of assassinations.

14.  What is your opinion about the publishing industry today and
about the ways authors can best fit into the new trends?

I’m sure I’m not the first person who has looked at a question like that and something along
the lines of, “If I knew the answer to that, I would be a wealthy person.”

The publishing industry is on the ropes right now, just like journalism, churches and brick
and mortar stores. The internal fracturing of our society and norms and minds has been go-

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ing on for decades and there is nothing in the foreseeable future that appears to be an anti-
dote for that. What we might be able to say (perhaps based more on faith than evidence) is
that Something will eventually emerge as a new way for writers and life to go on, and a new
generation will probably evolve someday that will think of it as the “new normal,” and they
will find joy and fulfillment in it. But between our time and that one there will be a great wall
of immense pain and loss and dislocation, and there is nothing we can do about it but grieve
and breathe and go forward.

My sense is that the best way that authors can be a part of the new “trends” is to chron-
icle the explosive emotional turmoil ahead of us in a way that readers will be drawn into it
and reconciled by it. When readers see themselves and their emotional feelings in literary
writing, they learn more about who they are inside and feel (slightly) stronger and more
self-aware. The new writing doesn’t have to be straight journalism or history or political
punditry, but it does have to have a heartbeat, it has to embody human hurts and aches, and
resiliency and resurrections. Writers at their best can help us learn what our insides mean
and how to maintain hope and sanity in the midst of a world that has lost its grasp on both.

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JAMES WHITE

Author of BORDERS IN PARADISE
and RANSOMS ARE FOR AMATEURS

1. Tell us a bit about yourself – something that we will not find in the official author’s bio?

I’m happily married 41 years to a prize-winning published poet, Becky, a patient English ma-
jor who winnows out my bonehead mistakes before my stories go to an editor. Becky and I
ran a public relations business for five years, Decent Exposure, Public Relations. We had an
eclectic lineup of clients including home builders, university authors, art galleries and new
age philosophers. Currently I serve as president of our town’s literary nonprofit, Benicia Lit-
erary Arts. We recently published an anthology of short stories, Carquinez Review, available
on Amazon and local bookstores. It was an education being on the other side of the publish-
ing desk (figuratively) working with submissions and contributing writers. I’m pleased to say
we published on time and even produced a small profit, not bad for a team of volunteers.

2. D o you remember what was your first story
(article, essay, or poem) about and when did you write it?

My first publication was a non-fiction annotated transcription of letters written in the 1850s
by a member of the DuPont family, a prominent East Coast family known in its early days
for gunpowder manufacturing. I was working as a research librarian at the Eleutherian Mills
Historical Library in New Castle County, Delaware and discovered the letters in the Library’s
archives. The letters are from San Francisco during the gold rush era. I liked the story behind
the letters because it describes the downside of those bustling times. The main character,
Robert Lammot, married into the DuPont family and hoped to get support from his in-laws
to foster a successful gunpowder supply business in San Francisco.

Below is an excerpt from the article’s introduction, published by the California Historical
Quarterly.

The business letters of Robert Lammot and his associate, Rodmond Gibbons, span the years
from 1852 to 1854 and describe in rich and sometimes painful detail the fortunes of a young
businessman, Robert Lammot, who traveled West intent on securing some of the fast money
to be made in the California gold rush. In purpose, Robert and his San Francisco-based asso-
ciate, Rodmond Gibbons’, letters were reports to an eastern supplier on the status of their

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goods and finances and appraisals of future prospects. But for latter-day readers they rec-
reate with humor, optimism, and, finally, resignation the anticipations and disappointments
that characterized business life in the boom and bust economy of the remote new market.

3. What is the title of your latest book and what inspired it?
My latest publication is a novella, Ransoms Are For Amateurs, a dark, crime-suspense page
turner. The initial idea began in 1985 while working as a technical writer in Santa Clara, CA.
During a lunch break I was musing about what would be the best possible ransom scheme. I
decided the most successful ransom would be not to employ a ransom at all. Once I had a sce-
nario I was satisfied with, the characters, plot and narrative grew around the ransom scene.

4. H ow long did it take you to write your latest work and how
fast do you write (how many words daily)?

The initial drafts of Ransoms developed quickly but was sidetracked by family and job-relat-
ed priorities for years. Sometime in the late 90s I unearthed the manuscript and rewrote it
with the help of an online collaborative authoring and review website called Critique Circle.
My colleagues at CC were a big help putting new life into the manuscript.

I write drafts faster than the final product. The drafts are sketchy with a lot of holes left
to fill in, but the important achievement is coming up with a conclusion. Once I have the end
figured out everything leading up to the end moves along. On a good day I probably get in a
thousand words of draft material and less than half that for finished copy.

5. Do you have any unusual writing habits?
A lot of my ideas come while sitting with a notepad nearby and staring at nothing. Watching
the paint dry, as my wife says. It’s kind of a meditative approach. I’ll run through scenarios in
my head then jot down profiles of characters, word and descriptive options and setting ideas.

6. I s writing the only form of artistic expression that you utilize, or
is there more to your creativity than just writing?

I enjoy working with my hands, especially rock, or dry-stack wall building. I’m a failed garden-
er, but I also like to play in the dirt.

7. Authors and books that have influenced your writings?
I call my favorite writers the four Johns; Updike, Cheever, McFee, and Irving. I also enjoy Anne
Proulx, Saul Bellow, Wallace Stegner, Michael Chabon, David Eggers and too many others to
mention.

8. W hat are you working on right now?
Anything new cooking in the wordsmith’s kitchen?

I’m working on two novels.

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A prequal to my first Adelaide book, Borders in Paradise. The novel starts at the beginning,
when BIP’s principal characters were children in Central Texas. It covers their upbringing and
ultimately their resettlement in Hollywood, California during the 1930s. The story includes
a true-life adventure of two boys riding the rails from Texas to California. I learned about
‘catchin’ out’ from stories told by my father and uncle.

Giants is the story if an ill-fated scientific expedition to Patagonia in the 18th century.
Five scientists in search of the mysterious giants that were reported by Ferdinand Magellan
during his circumnavigation in 1519. The story is inspired by Magellan’s report, written by
his supernumerary, Antonio Pigafetta. Pigafetta describes: “When the giant was in the cap-
tain-general’s and our presence he marveled greatly, and made signs with one finger raised
upward, believing that we had come from the sky. He was so tall that we reached only to his
waist and he was well proportioned.”

9. D id you ever think about the profile of your readers?
What do you think – who reads and who should read your books?

My writing is eclectic, so I expect I attract a variety of readers. They are primarily adults in-
terested in science fiction, romance, historical fiction and literary fiction.

10. Do you have any advice for new writers/authors?

My only advice is to be resourceful and don’t ever think you’re done. Writing, like many pro-
fessions, is a progression of plateaus. You get a story written? That’s a nice plateau, but it’s
only the beginning of your professional growth as a writer.

11. What is the best advice (about writing) you have ever heard?

Nobody Wants To Read Your Sh*t. That’s the title of a great primer on writing written by a
talented author and screenwriter, Steven Pressfield.

“When you understand that nobody wants to read your shit, you develop empathy. You
acquire the skill that is indispensable to all artists and entrepreneurs—the ability to switch
back and forth in your imagination from your own point of view as writer/painter/seller to
the point of view of your reader/gallery-goer/customer. You learn to ask yourself with every
sentence and every phrase: Is this interesting? Is it fun or challenging or inventive? Am I giv-
ing the reader enough? Is she bored? Is she following where I want to lead her?”

12.  How many books you read annually and what are you reading now?
What is your favorite literary genre?

I like historical fiction. I was a history major and the academic discipline still runs through my
literary veins. I’m also fond of science fiction for the sheer fantasy and I’m always looking for
ways to insert humor into my stories. I can’t tell you how many books I read. Not enough is a
good answer. Among many titles, I’m reading Station Eleven, by Emily St, John Mandel, and
Coffee Killed My Mother, by Adelaide writer, Donna Koros Stramella.

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13. W hat do you deem the most relevant about your writing?

What is the most important to be remembered by readers?
I’m character and setting driven. One publisher told me she loved my heroes and I consider
that to be a significant observation. I like to develop strong female roles and other characters
that are helpless in the throes of life and pathos.

My settings are important not only as backdrop but as indicators about how and where
the plot is going.
14. W hat is your opinion about the publishing industry today and

about the ways authors can best fit into the new trends?
Today’s publishing industry is mysterious. I belong to numerous author groups and none of us
really know what’s going on. My wife used to be publicity director for The University of Cali-
fornia Press and her descriptions about publishing in the 70s has no relation with what’s going
on today. Authors need to be self-reliant and adaptable. I find it’s best to stick with familiar
social media outlets and tools and forget about trying to keep up with everything that’s new.

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JEFFREY KASS

Author of THE RONA DIARIES:
ONE WORLD – TWO PANDEMICS

1. T ell us a bit about yourself – something that we will not find in the official author’s bio?
I love to cook gourmet feasts from all over the world. Exotic places. Places off the beaten
path. Places that don’t make it to U.S. classrooms. Places like Cameroon. Azerbaijan. Sri Lan-
ka. I prepare these feasts for my kids, then I teach them about the countries from which each
meal comes. My kids love this and devour the information just as much as the delicious food.

2.  Do you remember what was your first story
(article, essay, or poem) about and when did you write it?

I started writing op-ed pieces and essays in college, but the first published essay opinion
piece was right after I finished law school, in 1996. I submitted a piece on the Middle East
and The St. Louis Post Dispatch accepted it for publication and featured it as the main op-ed
guest column on its opinion page. They even added artwork for the article.

3. What is the title of your latest book and what inspired it?
The Rona Diaries. One World. Two Pandemics. I was inspired to journal through these COVID
and racism challenges by the events unfolding before our eyes. Society was deteriorating
right before eyes with the biggest health crisis in our lifetime and racism rearing its ugly
head after George Floyd. These simultaneous dark events inspired me to write book to cause
reflection and maybe even to laugh sometimes along the way.

4.  How long did it take you to write your latest work and how
fast do you write (how many words daily)?

Because this book is a journal of daily musings of COVID and racism, I wrote the book real
time beginning at the end of March when everyone realized COVID really was a serious thing,
and continuing for 100 days. I try to write for at least an hour each day minimum. Depending
on what I am writing, I can generate about 1,500 words of unedited material during that
time.

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5. Do you have any unusual writing habits?
I love to write at coffee shops. There’s something about observing people—complete strang-
ers—that provides me with ideas and humor to integrate into my writing and stories.

6. I s writing the only form of artistic expression that you utilize, or
is there more to your creativity than just writing?

I also like to express art through food. I have been gourmet cooking for my entire adult life
and love to create dishes that not only taste great, but look dazzling. I also performed stand-
up comedy from age 18 to about 40, and I’ve dabbled with a few instruments and singing
along the way as well.

7. Authors and books that have influenced your writings?
David Sedaris has been the biggest influence. He also likes to combine trauma with comedy. I
once chatted with him after the concert and when I used the word “traumedy” with him, he
told me he had never heard the clever word and loved it. Augusten Burroughs also has been
a big influence. His ability to create raw honest stories of his challenges and still manage to
make you laugh has been an inspiration to my own writing.

8.  What are you working on right now?
Anything new cooking in the wordsmith’s kitchen?

I have two books I just finished and I am working on a third, but I’m gonna have to keep them
under wraps for now. Stay tuned for some exciting projects. Some fun. Some serious.

9. D id you ever think about the profile of your readers?
What do you think – who reads and who should read your books?

My books resonate with pretty much anyone who cares about moving society forward in
a positive direction, and they resonate with people who have experienced trauma in life,
which is most of us. My stories make people think and reflect, oftentimes with familiarity,
and almost always with humor so soften the blow.

10. Do you have any advice for new writers/authors?
I think setting aside a certain time and place to write and sticking to it like an appointment is
the only sure way to finish a book. Even if you get writer’s block or one day write 100 words
and another day write 1,500, stick to the time and place plan like religion and you’ll complete
your masterpiece.

11. What is the best advice (about writing) you have ever heard?
Use your own voice. Some writers are trying so hard to emulate or create using someone
else’s voice. I was once told, and it’s turned out to be true, that the best writing is when you
express your authentic raw self.

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12.  How many books you read annually and what are you reading now?

What is your favorite literary genre?
I read about one to two books a month, although it varies depending on how much writing I
am doing. I mix in some memoir type books, some history, historical fiction and race related
books. My favorite genre is something I call traumedy. True trauma stories with humor thrown
in. I currently am reading The Best of Me by David Sedaris.
13.  What do you deem the most relevant about your writing?

What is the most important to be remembered by readers?
My writing is intended to cause reflection and personal and societal change. My stories typ-
ically involve social issues of the day. I want my books to be remembered as one of several
catalysts for reflection and change.

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LOLITA DITZLER

Author of THE VIEW FROM A
MIDWEST FERRIS WHEEL

1. T ell us a bit about yourself – something that we will not find in the official author’s bio?
Writing is important to me, but my family comes first. I am the matriarch of a police family—
my husband, our daughter and our son are retired officers. Our grandson joined the force two
years ago.

2. D o you remember what was your first story
(article, essay, or poem) about and when did you write it?

In 1969, I became a freelance journalist covering Durand community news for the Rockford
Morning Star, our daily newspaper. My first article would have been a report of a local school
board meeting.

3. What is the title of your latest book and what inspired it?
My latest book is a memoir, “The View from a Midwest Ferris Wheel.” I wrote it to show what
life was like on a family dairy farm during the 1950s and how a frivolous decision as a teenag-
er set the course of my life.

4. H ow long did it take you to write your latest work and how
fast do you write (how many words daily)?

It took about ten years to write my memoir, my first attempt at writing a book. I learned
how to write creative nonfiction, a genre that uses literary styles and techniques to create
factually accurate narratives, by attending classes and workshops conducted by The Division
of Continuing Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I joined a writers’ group to get
feedback on my work in progress. I spend mornings writing. I don’t measure my accomplish-
ment by number of words written because I do a lot of rewriting.

5. Do you have any unusual writing habits?
I have always worked at home. I find taking breaks from writing to do a household chore such
as putting a load of dirty clothes into the washer brings me back to the computer refreshed.

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6.  Is writing the only form of artistic expression that you utilize, or
is there more to your creativity than just writing?

Writing is my only form of creativity.

7. Authors and books that have influenced your writings?
I was captivated by the first adult book I read while I was in high school, “Gone with the
Wind.” Margaret Mitchell published the novel in 1936 and it’s still a best seller today. I think
all of my reading influences my writing in some way.

8. W hat are you working on right now?
Anything new cooking in the wordsmith’s kitchen?

Two years ago, I started a blog, lolita-s-bigtoe.com, aimed at older women. Every Wednesday,
I post about 300 words on whatever subject grabs my attention.

9.  Did you ever think about the profile of your readers?
What do you think – who reads and who should read your books?

Most of my readers are older people. I’d like to have young adults read my work and learn
about the past.

10. Do you have any advice for new writers/authors?
Save a copy of everything you write. You never know when something you’ve written in the
past, whether it was published or rejected, may be relevant to your current work.

11. What is the best advice (about writing) you have ever heard?
Ernest Hemingway’s quote, “Put the seat of your pants on the seat of the chair.” When I be-
came a community correspondent for the Rockford Morning Star, I visited their newsroom.
People were pounding out their stories on typewriters while the wire service clacked about
national happenings, the police scanner tracked their activities, and reporters shouted ques-
tions at one another. That was a lesson to me to write and not wait for the muse or an ideal
time.

12. H ow many books you read annually and what are you
reading now? What is your favorite literary genre?

I read about a hundred books a year. Now I am reading “Cane River” by Lalita Tademy. Mur-
der mysteries are my favorite.

13.  What do you deem the most relevant about your writing? What
is the most important to be remembered by readers?
I am a common person interested in daily activities.

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14. W hat is your opinion about the publishing industry today and

about the ways authors can best fit into the new trends?
With traditional publishing by the “Big 5” such as Penguin Random House and smaller, inde-
pendent publishers plus self-publishing, there are many opportunities for authors.

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