As mentioned in Re-Do, Redux, Re-Do , I’d temporarily sidelined all but the three writing projects nearest to completion. Admittedly, 10 WIPs (works in process) is a lot more than my usual number even as a multi-WIP writer. Some leapt into the queue due to the closings of book and journal publishers, leaving 3 of my published books as well as several short works in that peculiar limbo known as Out-of-Print. Decisions. Decisions. Hmmm. Combining & reorganizing might make the number more manageable.
So, first & closest to publication is Over Edges, Under Stars. Ranging from the eerie & uncanny to the wholly fantastic, this collection of previously published works plus some new short works is divided into the following three parts: Part 1: nonfiction & creative nonfiction essays. Part 2: short stories & flash fiction ranging further into realms of imagination. Part 3: fantasy poetry (mostly selections from my out-of-print poetry book).
Next, a second collection of creative (& sometimes humorous) fiction & nonfiction musings about skills & work has all of the writing done, but not all of the photography for it is done. Since those, too, are entirely my own work—nothing from online sources & nothing AI—I still need to set up for the remaining illustrations.
Last of this topmost trio is a return to my fantasy world of harp-ships & silken cities of giant spiders. The last short stories closing this cycle are in final editing stage (published ones are listed in Bibliography).
But dang! Best intentions go awry. The sequel WIP for Suntosun Circus keeps opening all by itself. Demanding—demanding!—to be fed. (Sheesh! Pushier than my dog tap-dancing & nose-bumping me when she wants more treats!) At least that WIP quiets a bit when seeing its pedigree (below). And I toss it a few paragraphs to close its voracious maw for a little while.
Although posting a bit sooner than I’d planned, I had the amazing opportunity to interview author Chila Woychik. Her impressive writing résumé embodies the outstanding attention to quality she’s accorded the works she produced as a small press publisher & then as a literary journal publisher.
GF: Chila, what drew you to the mystery genre in general & to cozy mystery in particular?
CW: My mom loved mysteries. She learned much of what she learned of the English language through the Perry Mason series of books. She had pretty much the entire collection of dozens of books and she was always reading one. So maybe I come by the love of a good mystery naturally. “Cozy mysteries” have always been part of my DNA because, as a reviewer said on Amazon about The Query, “I’m a ‘fraidy cat at heart and don’t often read mysteries because I can’t take the suspense.” Ditto. So I’ve read over the years, not “cozy” mysteries per se, but mysteries without all the stuff that tends to bother me or my conscience: violence, incessant bad language, immorality. After I discovered what a cozy mystery really was, I figured Maddie Hill would definitely be comfortable in that genre as none of those elements really appear to any degree in her books.
GF: How did you come up with the idea of Maddie Hill?
CW: “Write what you know” as an adage for writers has always stuck with me, so that’s what I try to do as much as possible. I was a micro press publisher for five years before delving into the literary journal world, both as publisher and writer. And although the queries in The Query are entirely fictional, Maddie’s rural life and the way she felt about publishing was mostly true. As far as her name, she lives on a hill (as do I) and “Maddie” is close to “Maggie,” my nickname when someone can’t seem to pronounce and remember “Chila” as being pronounced “Sheila.” Or just when I order a coffee and they would never spell my birthname right when writing it on the cup. Besides, we had a ewe named Maddie, and she was a sweetheart.
GF: As an author best known for nonfiction & lyric essays, what are your thoughts about differences you’ve encountered in writing fiction?
CW: Lyric essays can seem very heavy-handed to the reader not familiar with the genre. I’ve had to be careful not to over-lyricise my descriptions, and it’s been a balancing act. I’m not sure I’ve always succeeded, but I’m still learning. The thing with a novella is you can move quickly, have to move quickly, and that helps.
GF: With “The Query” as your first Maddie Hill mystery, “The Trail” as your newly released sequel, & additional Maddie Hill stories in the works, what challenges (if any) have you noticed about writing a series?
CW: Keeping the facts straight! I’ve had to look back numerous times and ask myself if so-and-so really said or did this or that in the previous book or books, or if a timeline is in keeping with the previous ones. I keep notes of most of these things now so I don’t have to reread so often. Other than that, I’ve really and truly loved working on this series. It is my heart.
GF: Why did you choose a historical airplane disaster as a main part of the plot for The Query?
CW: I’m not really sure, but I think I figured that if we were including a spy or defector in the story, the mystery surrounding that character (Jessica Lin) must be somewhat believable. How would she get to the states, if indeed she was even in the states? Why would she leave her home country? Could she leave her home country?
GF: The timeline for The Query moves at a dizzying pace. It all happens within a few short days (unlike the following three books).How did you accomplish all that you accomplished in a mere 100+ pages?
CW: When I write fiction, I think of what makes a movie so appealing: fast action, believable dialog, honest heart feelings. And then there’s the multitude of scenes. I just tried to keep the storyline moving. In this day and age, I hope the movement of this series is just as interesting as a good movie. At least one person found the timeline a bit confusing at first, but then said once they “got it,” everything made sense.
GF: Tell me about the other three books in the series. I see that book two, The Trail, has been released, as I said above.
CW: The Trail is about Maddie and Sasha walking part of the Appalachian Trail in Maine, but also implies a few other “trails” that Maddie must follow to find the solutions to mysteries hounding her. Book three is The Return which ties up several loose ends from previous relationships and happenings. And the final, The Years, is book four. Maddie is aging, as we all do, and here we see a 70-year-old woman who has had an incredibly fulfilling life, an adventurous life, nurturing both her family and yet another mystery or two. She’s still going strong, yet she feels the need to find a balance between everything else and the peace and quiet she craves. Guess what? She finds it! She also finds a new avenue for her very mature creativity, and begins to pursue it.
GF: Why is Maine the locus of these books? Why not Iowa, where you’re currently located?
CW: Iowa seemed too close to home. We have relatives with a home in Maine and we’ve visited there several times over the years. Maine is lovely and I thought it would offer the perfect setting for Maddie Hill. Maddie thinks so too.
GF: Why did it take so long between The Query, published in 2020, and The Trail in 2025?
CW: Oh my, what a span of years! The pandemic, a derecho, a family member’s serious health issues and multiple hospitalizations, two moves, the death of two parents (and a third just a few months before). My brain was rather tied up. But the good news is that the second edition of The Query, published in 2025 as well, has been released with a new cover to match the other book covers in the series. Unfortunately, we lost our original book cover designer during the pandemic so felt the change was warranted. I think it was a good decision.
GF: Both Maddie Hill mysteries currently available show 12/13 y.o. to 18 y.o. as the age range for readers, yet the mysteries are about facing adult puzzles & challenges. Is there a reason for categorizing the books for younger readers?
CW: That was the only choice when given the options by Amazon. There was no 12 to adult option, I believe. Just the 12 to 18. Very strange indeed.
CW to GF: Thank you for the opportunity to share these thoughts with you! I love talking about Maddie Hill and hope others will find her stories soothing, intriguing, and rereadable!
GF to CW: And thank you for the chance to chat with you about Maddie Hill!
Here are the links & covers of the first two Maddie Hill books plus a sneak peek at covers for the next two sequels.
Re-do: to do something again, do it over. Redux: to bring back, revive, revisit. Re-do (additional meaning): to rework, to make it better than what was previously done.
How often in a lifetime does one or more of these meanings apply? How often do they become necessary? How often must life’s cards be reshuffled or dice re-rolled?
As I again resuscitate this too-frequently neglected spot in my writing life, I wonder how often other people deal with similar “Life gets in the way” issues. How often do they strike in cluster after cluster?
How many others surrender to gloom or despair in facing multiple problems? How many become even more resilient every time life challenges swarm over them like locusts or hornets? I strive for up-beat resilience even when swarms sting worst. I hope the same for others!
In the current lull between swarms, I’ve had a chance to reexamine my writing projects & redefine goals as well as come up with a plan to keep this blog alive.
Of my ten current projects (WIPs), I’ve temporarily sidelined all but the three nearest to completion. These three are collections of my unpublished & previously published short works (most now out-of-print due to publisher closings).
There’ll be more about each of them in upcoming posts, especially the one closest to publication.
But the lifeline I’m throwing for this blog is writing enough ahead to post monthly. When the next challenge cluster swarms over me, perhaps that’ll keep Clayfoot Journeys from tumbling (crashing!) into dormancy. Writing is one of my primary passions, but much in life seem entirely unrelated to it. Other projects & tasks. Little mysteries & random wonders. How could I not include glimpses of what eventually finds ways into my creations?
A long time neglected, this blog. As I’ve said before, LIFE gets in the way… so very much!
Aside from slow progress with my own writing, another book-related project involves ongoing efforts to streamline (well, reduce) (sort of) my personal library plus a sideline to it. Scattered in diaries, journals, & miscellaneous notebooks kept for over 50 yrs, I’ve been gathering the book lists of everything I’ve read.
But as I copy those lists into one location, I made 3 discoveries.
(1) The blank book I selected is too small to go beyond 1200 titles. Continuing in a second blank book, I’ve already passed 1500 titles. I initially estimated the remainder of those listed books at 2K to 3K, but I’m finding a lot of duplication entries. I’ve reread some books more than 2 or 3 times just for the enjoyment, & some are books I review &/or use info from often. Due to storm, flood, or simply left behind during moves, some lists were lost, but my revised estimate of those I still have is closer to but won’t exceed another 2000.
(2) A much bigger surprise is *what* I’ve read. When starting this project, I was pretty sure my top favorite genre—speculative fiction titles (fantasy & science fiction, but not much horror)—would hold a huge lead over all other genres. Thus far, obviously not. By genre, it’s scarcely holding between 3rd & 4th place in the number of titles.
(3) As I record the titles in their new home(s), I realize I remember at least something—storyline, style, character, some takeaway value, etc.—about each book. Oddly, too, I remember a lot of cover designs & art, especially those predating AI or even digital artwork.
So now, at the very bottom of a different project & task list (which will likely take multiple lifetimes to complete), I’ve added this: another journal for a paragraph or precis of what I’ve learned, gleaned, enjoyed, remember about each book I’ve ever read.
Ambitious, maybe. But in the ranks of my own writing—10 current WIPs, among them 2 sequels for Suntosun Circus—as well as my book wish & TBR piles, that added project is low priority!
Once Upon a Time… In an ancient Japan, Michiri undertakes a dangerous task: righting a long-ago wrong to bring peace to the warring kingdoms of the Laughing Rains and the Iron Mountains.
As a blurb, it sounds so simple, yet since buying Tears of the Dragon ~one year ago, I’ve re-read it four times & felt moved to review it. From among my favorite genres, it blends two of them: fantasy & Asian literature. In length, it’s a work near the shifting border between novel & novella, short enough to read in an evening. The writing is lovely, at times even lyrical, & Carol nailed that sweet spot between description lush enough to bring the characters/world to vivid life and moving the story forward at a brisk pace with a skilled sprinkling of romance as well.
Though the daughter of the Laughing Rains Emperor, Michiri is no passive & fragile princess dreaming of rescue. Despite restrictions common for her era, culture, and Imperial position, she makes decisions and takes action, risking all, even her life, to transform lives for others as well as for herself.
Asian lit—yes. Fantasy—yes. Beautiful writing—yes. But each of those qualities alone or in combination is rarely enough for me to justify more than a second reading of any work.
What else keeps bringing me back to it?
To borrow a German term for this Japanese tale, Tears of the Dragon is a märchen. It’s an artistic, literary folk/fairy tale, a tale of adventure and wonder exploring the light and dark of external and internal truths rather than the often-bowdlerized tales meant for children. Carol draws bits of history, culture, epics, myths, symbols, etc. to create a fresh tale of an ancient Japan that never was (but should’ve been!).
Carol’s work deserves a place alongside those of such time-honored authors as Thomas Mallory (Le Morte d’Arthur), Hans Christian Anderson (“The Nightingale”, “The Snow Queen”, “The Tinderbox”, “The Little Mermaid” among others), Charles Perrault (“Blue Beard”, The Master Cat or Puss-in-Boots”, “Donkey-skin”, “The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood”, etc.), collected works of the Brothers Grimm and Lafcadio Hearn’s Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things, more modern authors as J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Terri Windling, Charles De Lint, Jane Yolen, and more.
Suddenly, my best & most thorough plans for tending the new book’s release crashed. An avalanche of major & minor challenges at work, at home. Deaths of family members, friends, & pets. Storm damage. Job complications. Health issues.
One after another, often overlapping.
Life.
The avalanche of challenges hasn’t stopped or slackened.
But in the seventeen months after publication of Suntosun Circus, I keep moving forward—oh, so slowly!—with the sequels. Two sequels, because the circus split into 2 troupes to perform & hunt on separate continents: Africa & Europe.
Squeezing story (or poetry or essay) writing between real life’s little gaps is snail-pace work. Writer’s block has never been a problem for me. However, I’m certain that every time I hit the too frequent fatigue wall & fall asleep at the keyboard, I can’t call 2 paragraphs followed by 100+ pages of xxxxxxxxxxxjjjjjjjjjjj “experimental writing” even if I add punctuation.
Meanwhile, a different completed novel waits its turn for publication. In stages ranging from partial draft to nearly finished, four shorter works sit on the sidelines. Two previously published works slated as second editions joined the queue for re-edits.
Life + writer’s life.
I stare at the computer screen. Consider rolling dice to decide which project stands the best chance of gaining more than 2 paragraphs before I nod off.
And wonder how many monkey wrenches the universe could possibly have.
I’m thrilled with the cover artwork for Suntosun Circus! Once again, Merel Pierce Designs has done amazing work!
I’m equally delighted that AdeCiro Publications has made this steampunk/historical fantasy so dear to my heart now available for preorder. Release date is set for February 4, 2022.
“As demon doubles of global leaders begin breaching reality’s borders, Sophie Asher and her family join a paranormal circus of covert hunters. Their goal: destroy the doppelgängers before the demons unleash worldwide terror & destruction.
But even as Sophie struggles with her growing love for the aleksei Kazimir, her passion for the circus, and her own identity, turmoil is raging within the troupe.
Can they overcome the challenges mounted against them, or will darkness obliterate everything they know and love?”
Excuse me while I decide whether to happy-dance or swoon!
Additional artwork for Tools of the Trade by Merel Pierce Designs for AdeCiro Publications came through just ahead of the first surgery, but it wasn’t until both eyes were done that I saw—really saw with clarity—how amazing the work actually was. The characters may not look exactly the way they live in my imagination, but the artist’s interpretation is pretty darn close. The clothing, the background—spot-on. The overall effect—solidly in the story and the era.
The first thing I noticed after surgery #1: the clear sky was blue. Stunned is an understatement. My brain told me the sky was blue, only blue, always blue.
By comparison, the eye not yet done saw pre-storm teal.
For two weeks until surgery #2, I winked a lot. Close one eye, then the other. Compare. Repeat. Compare.
Blue is blue instead of teal. My kitchen tile is white, not buttery off-white. The concrete driveway is grey rather than pale raw sienna. Oncoming headlights no longer look like approaching sunbursts. Porch lights don’t have haloes (except in fog), & stars don’t have long spikes of light extending from them.
When a vision change happens subtly, you don’t realize what you’ve become used to seeing. The brain adapts to the slow transition without conscious thought. Perception is redefined.
Whether literal or figurative, cataracts are sneaky.
Sophie and Kazimir stand back to back, alert to danger. Sophie carries the flamethrower she designed. Though less apparent in the image, Kazimir has one of his favorite weapons: a bearing scraper, a workman’s tool.
I’m a messy writer. I don’t think it’s evident in published works. I juggle multiple stories/ essays, and my handwritten first drafts include scribbles, side-notes. Sketched illustrations in margins, between paragraphs, and sometimes in the middle of sentences. But the messiness really shows up in my personal time machines (yes, plural): diaries, journals.
As I tackle a nonfiction project, I’ve been digging through my time machines. There are gaps. A couple of journals succumbed to fire; floods turned a few nonsequential diaries turned into papier mache blocks. Sporadic rather than regular entries in those remaining, they chronicle trials & triumphs, questions & revelations, the state of my psyche or my hangnail. True to what I knew & thought at the times.
No clue what triggered afew entries or what they were about. (She did it again! Now in the top 10 stupidest things to come out of a grown-up’s mouth! Who was “She”? What did she say?) Others prompt vivid recalls of things left behind, forgotten. Some show what a double-life I had at times.
In a few entries, I must’ve dodged rants or interrogations from a grandparent, aunt, or uncle about why I didn’t date in high school. My reply—“They like football and cars; I like books and animals. What are we supposed to talk about?”—apparently satisfied them enough to shut up or change the subject.
Although publicly true, the double-life reason was this: I had no idea who I was or wasn’t related to in my parents’ hometown. When my folks moved back there, I’d pieced together partial genealogies, local gossip, & enough surname connections to realize that by blood or marriage I was related to at least a fifth (possibly a fourth) of that small farming community. There were already plenty of odd trials with my folks and mystifying tensions with the closest relatives. Challenging. Confounding.
Because some relatives got along like slightly civilized Hatfields & McCoys sans shotguns, and because some were considered longtime pillars of the community, the façade of everything being glitch-free was absolutely required. Cheerfully peachy amid their hostilities & meltdowns. Without a doubt, I knew I’d draw the combined wrath of known & unknown relatives down on me if I even accidentally stepped a toe out of line. I had more than enough to handle without adding to it.
Off & on entries puzzle over training a 13 y.o. terrier the Sit & Heel command. Along with feisty stubbornness hardwired in her breed’s brain, she was also, of course, too old for such adolescent nonsense. Ultimately, it was an exercise in frustration. Not until my family moved from the small town was I around anyone who could show me what to do. By then that terrier had died, but my parents got a young dog. I had a fresh chance at learning something I’d so much wanted to do.
And since my concept of journals meant everything should be written on their pages, my first short story— an attempt at a Western—was there. A Western fan in general & a Louis L’Amour fan in particular, I was sure I could work that Old West magic. Every possible cliché appeared in the story, & every one of them rode off into the sunset to die of embarrassment.
Music was another facet of double-life. Secretly, I thought most popular bubble-gum rock of the day sucked. With somewhat guilty glee, the first LPs I bought myself were Irish ballads by The Clancy Brothers & the flamenco guitar of Carlos Montoya. Played over & over, they swept me away, elated. My singing voice has always constituted audio assault, but I could brogue along with “Jug of Punch” & “O’Donnell Abou” just fine. I tried but never could master more than the opening notes of Montoya’s “Malaguena”.
Around the same time, I was discovering science fiction. I knew nothing about amputations, prosthetics, or phantom pain. Precious little about space travel beyond what I’d seen on Star Trek, The Outer Limits, & late-late night B-movie reruns (when I was supposed to be asleep). Yet another entry records a dream so haunting that, some 20+ years later, it grew into the world of my cybernetic navigators. Hindsight may be 20/20 but it can be nonetheless mystifying.
Versions of a frequent social media question appear in my newsfeed. “What advice would you give your childhood/teenage/younger you?”
Navigating a double-life, the teen me could’ve used a bit of reality check: you’ll never solve or understand all the family mysteries.
A bit of hope for a smidgen of resolution: a major puzzle piece hidden from you will come to light in 40-some years.
A bit of patience counsel: you’ll learn to train your dogs, you’ll find your genre(s), hit your stride—it just takes time.
A bit of encouragement: it’ll be okay—chin up, kiddo.
On the other hand, the last wouldn’t have been necessary. According to my time-machines, I did it anyway.
Tools of the Trade is live, introducing some of The Suntosun Chronicles cast members. The sequel novel, Suntosun Circus, is slated for release this fall. As I roll forward with writing the next book (tentatively titled Suntosun Seasons), I dig again into inner territories. Discover anew links between my fictional stories and the masks worn in autobiographies of the psyche.
Literal and figurative puzzles recur in my stories. But it’s amazing how some children’s toys teach us how to deal with adult challenges and tasks. The sliding tiles puzzles I enjoyed when I was young proved especially useful.
With the assistance of my beloved cat, here’s how a fiction/real-life connection works for a quest story.
Because she loves climbing, I learned the domestic housecat can find every possible route into a basement’s drop ceiling.
So, I (protagonist) move one ceiling tile (obstacle, setting), and cat (goal) backs across tiles to another section. Central plot. Also approaching badlands/cave/et cetera where setting complicates goal.
Pull down two more tiles hoping to intercept cat. Simple plan: achieve the goal without venturing into badlands/etc.
Cat skirts the gap to a different part of the basement. Simple plan failed.
Move more tiles and take down others to widen the gap, possibly cornering the cat. Plan #2 is better, right?
At this point, not too many tiles are removed. I’m already encountering dust, cobwebs, and dead bugs. The badlands become more dangerous, the goal even farther & further from sight.
Cat displays unsuspected athletic prowess as she leaps the overhead chasm. More desperate pressure for achieving the goal.
Cat pauses to sniff a decomposing mouse. Lull before the final conflict or confrontation.
Move another tile. Oh, so close! Cat is now intensely interested in a ductwork section where a former homeowner cut a vent hole. Plot twist.
Our eyes meet. Oh, no! Don’t you dare! Cat scurries just out of reach and kicks a petrified skink into my hair. How’d that get up there‽ Cat dives for the hole! Focus on goal. Gross out later.
I break a tile and knock down part of the tile frame as I lunge for cat. Cat wriggles head and shoulders into the vent hole, but I grab cat’s back legs. Cat is captured. Success! Victory! Resolution!
I wipe cobwebs from her face and remember a sliding tiles puzzle I enjoyed as a kid. Eyeing the mess above and on the floor, I consider taking down the entire drop ceiling. Epilog. Satisfied with her adventure, cat snuggles against me and purrs.
Journeys of the Clayfoot 