ADVICE TO AUTHORS: WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW, AND... By Michael Rigg

No doubt you’ve heard advice for authors to “write what you know.” I also follow this related suggestion: “write what you want to know.” For me, that means that I write stories set where I live, i.e., Virginia Beach and its environs. And, it also means that I write stories set in New Orleans, which I visit as often as I can, strictly for “research,” of course.

Despite recent events, New Orleans is probably best known for Mardi Gras. Well, it’s that time of year again. But Mardi Gras is not just a date. Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday in French. In addition to referring to a specific date (March 4th, this year), "Fat Tuesday" represents an entire season of Carnival celebration. Every year, Mardi Gras season begins on Twelfth Night, which is January 6. Twelfth Night represents the Christian holy day of the Epiphany. The season, which represents a time of celebration before Christian Lent, lasts until Fat Tuesday. Fat Tuesday, or Mardi Gras Day, is March 4, 2025.

On January 6th, the merriment begins with the Krewe of Joan of Arc, a walking parade through the French Quarter, and three "parades" along various streetcar lines—Phunny Phorty Phellows,  Funky Uptown Krewe, and the Societe Des Champs Elysees (French accents omitted). For more about parade routes and schedules, check out this website:

https://www.mardigrasneworleans.com/.../www.../parades/ 

In the meantime, Laissez le Bon Temps Rouler—Let the Good Times Roll!

 

MY PRODUCTIVITY HACKS, PART THREE: WAKE UP TO SOMETHING YOU LOVE by Max Jason Peterson

Snow Kitty by Max Jason Peterson

Earlier works in this series:

Part One: Multiple WIPs

Part Two: These Are Our Tools 

Wake Up to Something You Love

If the thought of getting out of bed is a chore, the rest of the day often drags, too. Everything you have to do feels harder when you're thwarted by not having enough time to do something you love. 

I'm speaking, for my part, of creative work, but this could apply to many different activities.

I’ve recently returned to something I tried years before: getting up before I have to go to work. This is a true challenge, since I’m a night owl with a morning lark's work schedule. When I’ve tried to do it in the past, my resolution didn't last long, since it was hard to motivate myself to crawl out of bed early just to do some really hard work writing and editing on my computer with an aim to churn out as many words or pages as I could. 

Yet there have been two times when this strategy did work for me, and I honestly enjoyed it. The first occurred a few years ago, while I was drafting a fantasy novel. I'd wake up but still lie comfortably in bed, writing with colorful pens in a rainbow-edged journal (my favorite way to write being by hand, especially with fun materials). 

The other time is now: pure joy, to get up before work just to draw, because I love it.

I’ve really missed my art; I'd been away from it for too long, and it's thrilling to watch my skills return. But these mornings aren’t about making up for lost time. And yes, I do have paying art assignments, but these are just pieces I'm making for the love of it. 

Having gotten out of bed because I want to, I find my mind clear, my heart relaxed as I pick up the pencil. It's fun, not a chore. Not something I'm making myself do. Every morning I give myself the choice: sleep in? Draw? I try to sleep in. I end up drawing.

And it brightens my whole day.

Try it! Get up just a little bit early to do something creative that you love, in a way that is all about you and your enjoyment of the process. It may contribute to an overall goal (my drawings will be published online eventually), but the point isn’t the progress, it’s the process. It’s a way to say yes to a deeply held dream. To get in touch with your soul while you’re still so close to your unconscious, and not yet bowed down by the pressures of the day.

Often by the end of a long day at work, I’m too tired to create—because making things from the heart requires so much mental and emotional energy. Even if I had the will to do it, I might knuckle under the stress that accumulates with all I have yet to do, with not enough time to do it. I may feel I don’t have time to play. If I engage with my creative life, it has to be solely for professional work. And in order to justify taking time to do it, I need to work hard and make it count.

This is no fun. It's a quick way to burn out. Believe me, I've been there.

When I wake up and choose to climb out of bed, I feel joy as I rise to meet my art. Obviously that pleasure, doing something I love, is both the benefit and the motivation. But I think it runs deeper than that. I'm making time for my dream first. And that’s important. 

Not only is the mind clearer, the energy fresher before you begin your daily routines, but you'll also be showing yourself that you do take your dreams seriously—that you value yourself enough to make this thing you love a priority.

Maybe the amount of time you have is small—fifteen or twenty minutes. Maybe it’s closer to an hour. Either way, just putting in the time reinforces the sense of commitment. 

Meanwhile, you'll also improve your skills and your connection to your art. Even if you find that you have to keep erasing your subject’s face (or crossing out lines of a poem), the longer you spend looking at the picture you’re drawing, the more deeply you’ll see it, and the closer you’ll be to getting it to look the way you want. 

Incremental progress only looks slow on the surface. Turn off the part of your brain that counts up what you've done and searches for an end in sight. Focus on the process, the fact that this is what you want to be doing day by day. Slowly but surely, you’re getting there. One morning you’ll find you’ve completed a striking drawing or a sonnet full of insight. And it doesn’t feel like an insurmountable effort. You were just having fun, giving yourself a moment of joy by spending time doing something you love.

Life's Vinyl Playlist by Judy Fowler

 

It’s out with the old and in with the new in January, and I’ve spent the past week purging “stuff” from my home. I also needed a topic for this blog post, so when I stumbled upon eight coverless records for which I have no record player, I thought staring at them might act as a writing prompt. Let's see what I come up with.    
“New World Symphony.” It’s 1964. I’m eleven and bored waiting in line with Mom at the dry cleaners. She permits me to wander downstairs, where they sell records. This album’s cover appeals to me—an orange sky over a black Russian spire. The 99-cent price tag persuades Mom to fork over a dollar. On our hifi, the barely audible opening music builds to a sudden crescendo and initiates me into a new world of emotions. 
    Verve Folkways’ “Mixed Bag.” I’m sixteen. Richie Havens moans that he’s “got the blues for my baby down by the San Francisco Bay” as Clint, Denny, and I (two learners' permits and one license strong) sit at a metal table in an East Village club. We memorized all the songs on this album before we went. We order ice cream sodas because we're underage but no less intoxicated about how amazing adult life is going to be, if sometimes painful.   
     “Joni Mitchell” on the Reprise label, produced by David Crosby. Songs like “Sisotowbell Lane” and “I Had a King,” plus Joni’s guitar and vocal style, sounded whimsical and daring.  I wished I could emulate her sense of adventure, but I only had Mondays off from my summer au pair job.
    "Songs by Debussy," with the elegant Connoisseur Society label. The label made me buy it. Dad was footing the bill for college so I could become a schoolteacher—"that," he said, "or a nurse." I wished for a part in the spring musical by senior year. One evening, an undergrad standing near my dorm room heard Debussy and decided I was the girl for him—at least until graduation when he kissed me off with a two-album set of Gershwin’s songs. Sitting in that crummy dorm room across the hall from my floor’s shower room, the two of us tearing up over tracks like “The Sunken Cathedral” had always been innocent in my memory. Just now, though, I’m wondering why my boyfriend-to-be was in that location in the first place.

"Bonnie Raitt." Her red hair on the green cover promised sultry tracks like “Since I Fell for You.” It's senior year, and I'm learning to tap dance to “You Got to Know How” after many long days of putting in my student teaching hours. Dormmates who live one floor below me see me in the spring musical and ask that I don’t forget the people who put up with tap dancing overhead while trying to sleep. I wonder where those women are now? My Debussy-loving boyfriend entered the Navy and married a redhead who resembled Bonnie. 
"L’essential Edith Piaf." I promised my father I'd teach school right after I spent a year in Paris. A job as a receptionist and sleeping in a fifth-floor garret left me a few francs to buy records like this one, and the dazzling performance of a French actor in a Moliere play got me thinking about directing theater. I had a job back home teaching tenth graders but worked as a summer intern in a stock company, so I knew how to help direct school plays. I didn't read the books I had to teach when school started.  By the end of the year, when the school didn't invite me back, I knew how Piaf felt. The summer stock company took me back with a $30-a-week job directing adult actors performing theater for children, where I met and directed my husband-to-be.
“Francesca Da Rimini.” After a series of jobs as a low-paid theater grunt I'd taken to ensure that my out-of-work actor husband and I had health insurance, this opera spoke to my mood: romantic, desperate, and overwhelmed. My grandmother left me her Steinway, and I turned to voice lessons, coaches, and sheet music. Obsessed with opera, I wrote a libretto and shared it with a young composer from my choir job. He came to our apartment a month later with a beautiful, heart-wrenching overture. A few months later, he died from AIDS. I don't know who has his music.
Lastly, I'm looking at Elly Ameling’s “Souvenirs.” I learned songs from this record to sing at recitals, but was close to the cut-off point for singers to enter contests when my parents first heard my trained voice. They said they’d never realized I had a passion for music. Maybe I’d never told them in so many words. I  began to think I ought to try writing. 
I'm putting these records back in the closet. I didn't know they'd evoke so many memories, and I’m surprised how often France came into my mind. I was fifty before I did some genealogy research and learned that Dad’s American roots came from Huguenot transplants from Normandy.  Normandy, where French friends showed me Bebussy's “sunken cathedral.” Normandy, where my father won a Purple Heart and lost many of his band of brothers in World War Two. I don't think Dad had a clue about his connection.
    Now, there’s a writing prompt! How about a story where a character like my dad fights on land his ancestors once owned, but he doesn’t know that? What genre would I use? Family Saga? Supernatural? Historical Romance? This idea has real potential. Right now, I only have time for a blog post. 

RINGING IN THE NEW YEAR by Sheryl Jordan

 

New Year’s Day has a long history of traditions and celebrations worldwide. It is the day of closure of the prior year and the ringing in of the upcoming year. The earliest recorded New Year’s Day observances began over 4,000 years ago, although they were not always observed on the first of January. In about 2,000 BC, New Year’s Day was first observed in late March during the spring equinox in Ancient Mesopotamia. It was called Akitu, which marked the rebirth of nature and renewed agriculture. Akitu festivals lasted 12 days in honor of the gods through parades, feasts, and reenactments of mythological stories.

Fast-forward to 46 BC (well, maybe not so fast) when Julius Caesar created the Julian calendar. In this calendar, the year was more in sync with the solar year, making January 1 the first day of the new year to honor Janus, the Roman god of beginnings, transitions, and doorways. It was believed Janus was a deity with two faces who could see the past and the future, was the master of time, and was an intermediary between life and death. Romans celebrated with sacrifices to Janus, exchanging gifts, and feasts.

During the Middle Ages, Christianity spread through Medieval Europe, and the church opposed many pagan practices, so the church changed the traditions to Christian celebrations. For a long time, New Year’s Day was celebrated on March 25 and was repurposed as the Day of Annunciation, the day Angel Gabriel told Mary she would have the Son of God. Some regions of Europe celebrated New Year’s on Christmas Day or Easter, so the holiday was observed on significant Christian events.

In 1582, Pope Gregory XIII adopted the Gregorian calendar, reinstating January 1 as New Year’s Day. Catholic nations widely accepted this change, but Protestant and Orthodox nations did not, resulting in New Year’s Day being observed on various days for centuries.

A Time of Reflections and Resolutions

New Year’s Day is a time of reflection, renewal, and hope for many. Momentous events have occurred throughout 2024, some of which may have brought hurt, pain, sadness, joy, enlightenment, stress, laughter, or other emotions. There are “Year in Reviews” of noteworthy events that occurred over television stations and other media outlets worldwide. Reflection is also done on a personal level. I like to review what happened during the year and remember how I felt then and whether it was a good or unpleasant experience. While reflecting, I feel renewed, knowing I made it through the difficult and fun times and am here for another day. I ask myself how I can improve this year for myself, my loved ones, family, friends, acquaintances, or strangers. What can I do to be a positive light in the world in which I live?

It is also when people set goals for themselves or declare resolutions they intend to achieve. They may be goals of health and fitness, attitude changes, different outlooks on love, finances, or anything you want it to be. I have goals set for all areas of my life. We all wear different hats and have many roles, all essential aspects of our being. I find it uplifting to set goals and see how I move to achieve those goals throughout the year. Even if I do not fully accomplish a goal, it's okay.

Celebrations and Traditions

New Year's is celebrated in many ways around the world. People may bring the new year home with an intimate gathering of family and close friends. I have enjoyed this in past years, staying home watching the New Year's Eve events on television, hoping to stay awake for the countdown to midnight.

The Times Square Ball Drop in New York has been a tradition since 1907. While the orb sliding down a pole has changed with technological development, it is still one of the world's most significant New Year’s Eve events. Entertainers perform throughout the evening leading up to the countdown; then, as the ball drops, everyone counts down until the clock strikes midnight. Fireworks blast into the sky, and everyone sings the traditional New Year’s song, “Auld Lang Synge”! I have never been in person, but I would love to experience the celebration there one year.

There are also New Year’s Eve parties everywhere. Some restaurants offer late-night dinners, including champagne and party favors. Nightclubs offer party packages that include hors d'oeuvres, DJs, and more. Hotels have parties in their ballrooms, and you can purchase packages that include dinner and an overnight stay. You can also do dinner cruises on riverboats. Parades are also popular around the world.

There are traditions and superstitions surrounding the holiday. Some include eating certain foods or performing rituals for good luck, prosperity, and peace in the new year. For example, eating black-eyed peas as part of the New Year's meal is thought to bring good luck. Some cultures eat twelve grapes at midnight, believing that eating one grape per chime will bring twelve months of good luck. Cultures have unique ways of marking the transition to a new year. Every tradition carries a special meaning, from fireworks displays in Australia to lantern lighting in Thailand. Plate smashing is a tradition in Denmark. Instead of throwing away unused dishes and plates, Danes save them until the end of the year when they affectionately shatter them against the doors of all their friends and family members. This symbolizes leaving the past year and entering the new. It is a joyful and loving ritual of good luck and hope. The more broken plates in front of your doorway, the more luck and joy you will have in the new year.

This year, we will attend a community New Year’s party in my neighborhood. It’s a pleasant way to connect with friends and meet new neighbors. On New Year’s Day, we plan to prepare our meal of roasted Cornish hens, black-eyed peas with smoked ham hocks, Au Gratin potatoes, and cornbread, ending with apple pie and vanilla cake with chocolate icing. Hopefully, everything will be delicious, but the best part will be making more memories with my family.

Happy New Year to all! May you have a year filled with love, hope, prosperity, and well-being!

I would love to hear your favorite New Year’s traditions in the comments.

ROYAL INTRIGUE-PART 1 - BY: KIMBERLY R. THORN

As he stood on the foyer looking down at her entering the great hall and proceeding up the steps his anger only grew more.  How could someone do this?  And in his territory?  It was unthinkable.  No, it was treason!  But the more he thought about it, the angrier he got.  What must she think?  Her first time in his territory…soon to be hers too, and this happens.  He continued to think as he watched her proceed to her bedroom.  She was poised to try to maintain her dignity and self-control.  He could see it.  To look at her with her current demeaner the only thing giving away what she had been through was her physical appearance.  She didn’t look upset.  Her head was still held high.  It’s all about proper breeding, his mother would say.  Sounding like she was born and lived hundreds of centuries ago!  He shook his head to clear his mind of his mother.  Back to her.  The once beautiful dress she had on was all torn in many places with green grass stains on it.  It also had small sticks and leaves stuck to it in various places.  Her once beautiful long blonde hair that was pinned up is now peeking out in many different places.  It also has twigs and leaves stuck in it.  He could see her bare milky white shoulder because of a huge gash in the dress.  His mind went to something else entirely!  

“Excuse me your Majesty” interrupted his Grand Admiral Johan.

Again he snapped himself back to reality as he growled “yes, what else have you found out?”

“Well sire, I have spoken to her Army’s Grand Admiral, that was with them when it happened, but they did not get a good look at the culprit.  He said that he tried speaking to the Princess but she was too badly shaken to respond right after the attack happened.  Apparently when the assailant dropped her it knocked the wind out of her.  But that of course, she saw him up close and could describe him.  Although, she’s still understandably shaken.”

“Understandable…but I want to know who the hell did this, and fast.   We have no time to waste.  I need to KNOW something before her father or her brothers’ contact me.  I don’t know which would be worse actually.   I shudder to think what they will think of us now!  I can’t have it!  This will not suffice.  I’m counting on you!  I want to know who or what we are up against.  And I mean fast…before heads roll, or ONE in particular.” He said as he turned to look right at Johan.  Johan took a deep, hard gulp in of air but he didn’t get a chance to respond before the King continued more to himself admitting more to his own defeat, ‘I mean her dad and brothers’ entrusted her to me and I gave them my word that she would be safe here with me.’  He sighed and then spoke to Johan again, ‘I want everyone on high alert.  Two guards posted outside her door with the women guards by her side at all times.  I mean she doesn’t go to the bathroom without them.  Do I make myself clear?’”

As Johan stood at attention, “yes sire, Raoul has her army with him out scouring the woods where the tree went over and where she was taken from the Rolls Royce.  They are looking for anything that might tell us who did this vile attack on our future Queen!  The doctor is with her now and will report directly to you shortly.  Guards are with her as well.  The castle is secured.  No one will get in or out without being properly identified.”

“Good! I want them looking for anything they can find to lead us to this coward! And I demand to be updated continually on her condition and on the search for this vile person.  You are dismissed, for now, Johan.”

 

** TO BE CONTINUED**. Let me know what you think, please.

SANTA'S JOURNEY THROUGH TIME by Teresa Inge

Any kid can tell you where Santa Claus is from—the North Pole. But his historical journey is even longer and more fantastic than his annual, one-night circumnavigation of the globe.

Santa Claus, also known as Saint Nicholas, Kris Kringle, or simply Santa, is a legendary figure who embodies the spirit of Christmas. His story is a blend of history, folklore, and popular culture, making him one of the most beloved characters during the holiday season.

Origins and Evolution

The origins of Santa Claus can be traced back to Saint Nicholas, a fourth-century Greek bishop known for his generosity and kindness. Saint Nicholas was famous for his secret gift-giving, which laid the foundation for the modern image of Santa Claus. Over the centuries, his legend evolved, incorporating elements from various cultures and traditions.

In the 19th century, the modern image of Santa Claus began to take shape. The poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas," commonly known as "The Night Before Christmas," written by Clement Clarke Moore in 1823, played a significant role in shaping the contemporary depiction of Santa. The poem described Santa as a jolly, plump figure with a white beard, dressed in a red suit trimmed with white fur, and driving a sleigh pulled by reindeer.

Washington Irving's 1809 book Knickerbocker's History of New York first portrayed a pipe-smoking Nicholas soaring over the rooftops in a flying wagon, delivering presents to good girls and boys and switches to bad ones.

Cultural Impact

Santa Claus has become a central figure in Christmas celebrations around the world. He is often depicted as a cheerful, benevolent character who brings joy and gifts to children on Christmas Eve. The tradition of Santa Claus visiting homes and leaving presents under the Christmas tree has become a cherished part of holiday festivities.

Santa's image has been popularized through various forms of media, including literature, films, and advertisements. The Coca-Cola Company's 1930s advertising campaign featuring Santa Claus in a red suit helped solidify his modern appearance and further embedded him in popular culture.

A modern Santa

Today, Santa can be tracked on Google Tracker alternating between traveling and handing out presents in cities on Christmas Eve. Numerous movies and books have been made about Santa. And television ads portray a modern Santa in the Capital One commercial with John Travolta strutting his stuff in a Santa suit to the Bee Gees ‘Staying’ Alive.’  While Target features a hunky Santa Claus depicting the jolly man as Kris K, a team member at the popular department store.

"ALWAYS WINTER, NEVER CHRISTMAS?" by Yvonne Saxon

 

"Always winter, never Christmas" is one of my favorite lines from C.S. Lewis's book The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. The line speaks volumes in just four words. Winter is a season, and yes, a very necessary one in the physical world for rest and restoration.  I believe Christmas is also a very necessary season whether it's celebrated culturally or metaphorically. Is winter or Christmas a condition of your heart?

In Lewis's story the world is gray, and bleak and cold. Winter in our world can be bleak, harsh, cold and dreary. Bareness is everywhere: brown, stubby, empty fields, leafless trees, empty parks devoid of people. Shorter grayer days and longer darker nights send us inside to huddle and isolate. Christmas calls us out.