DREAMScene The Newsletter of DREAMWalker Group

Welcome from Dreamwalker

Namaste. Welcome to the third 2008 issue of DREAMScene — the electronic newsletter of DREAMWalker Group.

This month I've decided to begin with a few thoughts about my own personal vision for DREAMWalker Group. I'm calling this my soul purpose^*.

To wit, my soul purpose is to bring brilliant and creative people together. I define brilliant and creative as those connected by a spark of intention to make things on this planet work. Of course, this is not going to be an easy task and DREAMWalker Group is just one of many websites that have the same or similar goals.

I believe that everyone has brilliance within and I hope that I encourage people to let that brilliance shine. Such brilliance often manifests itself as creative ideas, ideas that are all too often pushed aside and forgotten. I believe that these ideas and creative impulses are the Universe's way of expressing its own desires. Ignoring those ideas — or forgetting them — does not make us bad and it doesn't annoy the Universe (aka God, Goddess, Great Spirit, Muse, Spirit) one bit. S/he's pretty tenacious, the Universe is, and will always offer second chances. And third and fourth, ad infinitum. DREAMWalker Group wants to see those ideas expressed once and for all so that your own brilliance can shine through.

Please join our community today. Actively participate by having a profile and helping us keep it up to date (in other words, keep creating and let us know as you do). Express yourself by writing for this newsletter. Help us to prosper by buying all your Amazon.com books through the search box on our homepage or on the left side of this newsletter. Send us your comments and ideas. Let us know about retreats and other creativity-based events. Oh, and finally, do mention us on Oprah!

Our world and our society are at a turning point. The choices we make today can and will determine where we as a society — and life form — go from here. Do we want to live out of fear and obstruct our creative impulses, or do we want to live out of love and breathe life back into our world, our friends, our selves?

Help DREAMWalker Group — help me — achieve my soul purpose.

Let DREAMWalker Group help you achieve yours.

Together, we can do it.

^*I say soul purpose — as opposed to sole purpose — because what DREAMWalker Group strives for will take the efforts and participation of the brilliant souls of the entire global community.

Michael Walker

Proprietor

dreamwalkergroup@me.com

Missed an issue of this newsletter? Click here to view old issues online

***

This month we're excited to announce a brand new creative project of author Robin Reardon. Using her Blog, Robin is producing a series of installments using logic and facts, in the form of an open letter to humanity, to prove that the only thing wrong with being gay is how some people treat you when they find out. The Case for Acceptance presents the thinking behind Reardon’s second novel, Thinking Straight, about a gay teen who is sent to a Christian de-programming center to straighten him out.

The first installment introduces the series and talks about the invectives in a faggot-bag — an item everyone has someplace in their possession if they grew up in a society where homosexuality is not fully accepted. Future installments, to be announced here as they are released, will present a rational process for deconstructing and demolishing those invectives, including the one that says “Damned.” Begin reading her Blog today!

This month's issue includes:
- Another article (Each a Different Kind) from the archives of the Christian*New Age Quarterly (C*NAQ, Catherine Groves, ed.)
- An article on Writing the Right Way by Tamara Wilhite as well as a charming look into her real world called, Live Show.
- Lynda Exley's introduction to Kids Can Publish University.
- An article (Journey in Time — Writing an Epic) by Angelica Harris.
- Amie M. Evans's look at the upcoming Sixth Annual Saints and Sinners Literary Festival.
- Another installment of Gail Fonda's column, Just Ask Gail.
- A short story, Queens Take Longer, I Suppose, by Royston Tester.
- Some untraditional financial advice (Dreams for Stock Market Investing) from Walt Stover.
New features include Sources Tell Us — where we share some things about the creative world we've hear around & about and Classified: Help Wanted / Help Offered, the title which pretty much speaks for itself.

We hope you'll enjoy this issue and anticipate more frequent updates in the future!

Michael Walker

Proprietor

dreamwalkergroup@me.com

Missed an issue of this newsletter? Click here to view old issues online

GO TO INDEX

Noteworthy at DWG

Remember that DREAMWalker Group is broken into numerous creative "communities" -- which more jaundiced folks might like to think of as "market segments." Each community, in turn, is broken into topics of interest.

For a list of all general topics of interest, go to the General Community. For a similar list of topics related to other communities, go to that specific community*.

To date, the communities include Arts, Disability, General, GayLesBi, Literary, Recovery, Seniors, Spirit-Guided, and Transgender.

Feel free to email us and offer suggestions for new topics or topics related to your own avocation or genre.)

*Note that a topic may be under construction.

GO TO INDEX

Sources Tell Us

Christian de la Huerta (author, Co-founder/President of Revolutionary Wisdom, and President of Mastery of Breath School) is contemplating ideas for two new books. DREAMWalker Group hopes this is true since Christian's last book, Coming Out Spiritually: The Next Step, has played such an important role in the lives of so many GLBT people (Dreamwalker included). We'll keep you informed on this once we know more. In the meantime, God speed, Christian!
In the November 2007 issue of DREAMScene, we announced Elle Newmark's 24-hour virtual party; and in the January 2008 issue we told you that her book, Bones of the Dead had hit Number 22 in historical fiction and Number 43 in mystery thrillers at Amazon.com. Now we can tell you that Elle has inked a two-book deal with Simon & Schuster.
Says Elle:

This book was rejected many, many times by many, many people. It's all about not giving up. After all the rejections and close calls with publishers, I got disgusted and took things into my own hands. I self-published Bones of the Dead and then promoted the hell out of it. I invited hundreds of agents to my virtual book launch and that resulted in representation by William Morris two days later. I've been told that, these days, agents and editors are very keen on authors who show entrepreneurial spirit.

Elle's book, retitled The Book of Unholy Mischief, is set for a December 30, 2008 release. Her second book (in progress) is due December 1, 2009.

Way to go, Elle!!

We're been hearing more and more about one steamed M. Christian who's apparently quite miffed about a new book that has been released by Alyson Books. Supposedly it's by someone who claims to be him — but isn't. M.C. claims it's a matter of stolen identity — that he would never write such a book. "Through devious means this shadowy impostor is attempting to supplant my career and even my existence," says M. Christian, continuing, "Rest assured that even though he at first appears to be my equal or even — I must grudgingly admit — my superior with regard to writing ability, I will not rest until he is exposed for the impostor he is. I want my life returned to me." We're still trying to decide whether someone's leg is being pulled — particularly ours. So we'll let you decide. ME2: A Novel of Horror, by M. Christian or not????"

GO TO INDEX

Writing the Right Way

By Tamara Wilhite

Tamara Wilhite is the author of Humanity's Edge, Geronimo Redux (PDF Edition), Natural Talent (PDF Edition)” and Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell. She is also an engineer and the “IE in IT” blogger for the Institute of Industrial Engineers.

As a technical writer, the topic of writing — and its associated costs – are constantly on my mind. Yet the tricks and tips I’ve garnered can help everyone save.

Email darn near free. If you like to correspond with friends and family, get their email addresses and save on stamps.
Homemade cards can mean more than store bought. If store bought, a bigger price tag does not equal a bigger heart.
Your food scale works just as well as a postal scale when you need to weigh letters. This helps you get the weight right for when you aren’t sure how much postage you’ll need.
If your letter is more than one ounce or an odd shape, refer to www.usps.gov and click on “calculate postage” to see how much postage it actually requires. You don’t want to spend more on postage than necessary.
When sending in a complaint letter to get something fixed, I recommend using a written letter. It is more likely to get resolved than an email that may be filtered or deleted.
When you find an absolutely wonderful product, do write the company about it on paper. They often send free samples or tons of coupons to thrilled customers.
If you do submit articles or stories like I do, search for those places that accept electronic submissions. Inconvenienced electrons are better than wasted stamps and dead trees.
If that perfect present is available in the store and online, do a comparison of shipping costs. It may be cheaper to order and send online than to buy in the store and ship it yourself.

© 2008 Tamara Wilhite. All rights reserved.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Creativity Literary Community Technical Writing Writers & Writing

GO TO INDEX

Sixth Annual Saints and Sinners Literary Festival May 8-11, 2008

By Amie M. Evans

Amie M. Evans is a widely published creative nonfiction and literary erotica writer, experienced workshop provider, and a retired burlesque and high-femme drag performer. She also writes gay male erotica under a pen name. Evans is on the board of directors for Saints and Sinners Literary Festival. She graduated Magna cum Laude from the University of Pittsburgh with a BA in Literature and is currently working on her MLA at Harvard.

Literature has long nurtured hope and inspiration for GLBT people, and has provided an avenue of understanding. Every year in May for the last six years GLBT authors have gathered in New Orleans to talk about craft issues, debate the state of queer publishing, network with each other and publishers, and learn from each other while celebrating Queer literature and the role it plays in building GLBT community. This year is no different, May 8 to 11 a dynamic array of GLBT literary talent will come together in the French Quarter for a fun-filled and informative conference on GLBTQI Literature. Saints and Sinners is the only national event of its kind.

The first annual Saints and Sinners Literary Festival took place in May 2003 and has since evolved into a collaborative effort between the Tennessee Williams/New Orleans Literary Festival and the NO/AIDS Task Force. The Festival, formed to bring the GLBT literary community together to celebrate the literary arts, presents panel discussions and master classes on literary topics in accordance with its project goals which are to create an environment for productive networking and ensure increased knowledge and dissemination of GLBT literature; to provide an atmosphere for discussion, brainstorming, and the emergence of new ideas; to recognize and honor writers and publishers who broke new ground and made it possible for GLBT books to reach an audience; and to provide a forum for authors and editors to talk about their work for the benefit of emerging writers and the enjoyment of fans of GLBT literature.

Saints and Sinners was also designed as an innovative way to reach the community with information about HIV/AIDS, particularly disseminating prevention messages via the writers, thinkers and spokespeople of the GLBT community. The short-term effects of the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival revolve around the tremendous creative energy generated by the event. As one participant put it: “It does more for my writing and my motivation in one weekend than anything I do all year.”

A Weekend Literary pass ($100) grants access to the Welcome Party on Friday evening and all panel discussions and readings on Saturday, May 10 and Sunday, May 11; as well as the Closing Reception/Hall of Fame Awards Ceremony. Master Class on Friday are $25 each. Saints and Sinners is known for its high-quality programming as one first-time participant said: “My expectations were pretty high, but the experience was even better! Thank you!”

A play writing contest is held in conjunction with the festival and each year two folks and a publisher are inducted into the Saints and Sinners Hall of Fame to honor their contributions to the GLBT literary community. In addition, the James Duggins Mid-Career Awards, which recognize and promote LGBT mid-career novelists of extraordinary talent and service to the LGBT community, provide two annual cash awards of $5,000 each to one man and one woman. Nomination form and complete details are available at www.sasfest.org.

There are also five special fundraising events associated with the festival weekend:

“Read Me Something, Mister” where festival participants read from their favorite New Orleans Authors on Thursday night May 8; the premiere production of the winning full-length play from the contest on May 9 at the Marigny Theatre; and A Day Without Sunshine is a new solo performance by Elizabeth Whitney; and Tim Miller’s new show “Us” both at the Marigny Theatre on MAY 10.

Confirmed speakers for this year include: Aaron Hamburger, Alistair McCartney, Amie M. Evans, Anita Fore, Anne Laughlin, Anthony Bidulka, Arin Black, Becky Cochrane, Bett Norris, Brian Antoni, Carol Rosenfeld, Charles Flowers, Collin Kelley, Cynn Chadwick, Dale Chase, Dan Boyle, David-Matthew Barnes, David Rosen, Diane Anderson-Minshall, Dorothy Allison, Elizabeth Whitney, Emanuel Xavier, Fay Jacobs, Gene Kahn, Gillian Rodger, Greg Herren, Greg Wharton, Gregg Shapiro, Ian Philips, JM Redmann, James Nolan, Jay Laird, Jay Lygon, Jeff Mann, Jenny Lowery, Jeremy Halinen, Jerry Wheeler, Jewelle Gomez, Jill Malone, Jim Gladstone, Jim Grimsley, Joan Larkin, Joe Formichella, Jolie du Pré, Joseph Pittman, Karissa Kary, Kathie Bergquist, Katie (K.J. Kelsch, Kay Murphy, Kelly McQuain, Kelly Smith, Ken Anderson, Laura Lane Miller, Leo Cabranes-Grant, Linda Daniel, Lewis Frederick Schloemer (Fred), Marianne K. Martin, Mark Doty, Maureen Brady, Megan A. Volpert, Michael Walker, Michelle Tea, Nathan James, Patricia Nell Warren, Paul Lisicky, Paul J. Willis, Peter Dubé, Raphael Kadushin, Rich Merritt, Robb Pearlman, Robert Klein Engler, Robert Leleux, Robert McDonald, Robert Taylor, Robert Walker, Sandi Strehlau, Shawn Clements, Stephen McCauley, Steve Berman, Suzanne Hudson, Sven Davisson, Theresa Davis, Thomas Keith, Tim Miller, Timothy J. Lambert, Timothy State, Tom W. Kelly, Trebor Healey, Val McDermid, Vincent Diamond, Vittoria Repetto, William Holden, and William J. Mann. They will be joined by a host of want-to-be authors, emerging authors, publishers, agents, and fans.

© 2008 Amie M. Evans. All rights reserved.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Creativity Gay Biography/Memoirs Gay Fiction Gay Horror Gay Humor Gay Mystery/Thrillers Gay Poetry Gay Science Fiction & Fantasy GayLesBi Community GayLesBi Studies Lesbian Biography/Memoirs Lesbian Fiction Lesbian Horror Lesbian Humor Lesbian Mystery/Thrillers Lesbian Poetry Lesbian Science Fiction and Fantasy Literary Community Literary Criticism Publishing Small Press Technical Writing Transgender Community Transgender Fiction Writers & Writing

Note from the editor: DREAMWalker Group has been a proud corporate sponsor of the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival since 2005.

GO TO INDEX

Each a Different Kind

By Catherine Groves

Catherine Groves is the Editor of Christian*New Age Quarterly: A Bridge Supporting Dialog, a journal of interfaith dialog, ministering to — and celebrating — the spirituality of both traditional Christians and New Agers, in an atmosphere of mutual respect and goodwill. To learn more about Christian*New Age Quarterly, write to C*NAQ at PO Box 276, Clifton, NJ 07015-0276 or visit christiannewage.com.

"So where are the Christians in C*NAQ?" "Lots of Christian talk — so where are the New Agers?" Those were hot, recurring complaints in the early years of Christian*New Age Quarterly. And perhaps that type of debate surrounding the fledgling journal was inevitable. Christians saw the periodical as "too New Agey" and questioned if any genuine reflection of Christian beliefs appeared in our pages. Equally, those with alternative tastes accused the publication of falling short on the New Age side and catering far too much to Christianity. With no solution to the deadlock, I eventually realized that if the pitch of clamor was equal from both sides, C*NAQ just might be doing something right. Balance, after all, would not be found by accentuating either the Christian stance or the New Age voice. No, the evidence of having already achieved a healthy equilibrium could be heard in the passion of criticism C*NAQ drew from each side.

It’s been some years since C*NAQ was itself a target for New Age/Christian debate. And I often breathe a sigh, relieved that those questions spun themselves out. Still, every once in a while a reader will pry open again that can of worms. And, of late, the nature of the question has prompted me to rethink: what constitutes calling oneself a Christian or a New Ager? All in all, I suspect each is a very different kind of thing.

Unless one has actively decided for another path, most people, when asked their religion, tend to reply with whatever the persuasion of their upbringing. In the Western world, that usually makes the answer, "Christian." But that type of self-identification doesn’t necessarily mean one holds to Christian tenets at all. Far more often, it indicates what Nemour Landaiche called "culturally Christian" in his piece, "Proposing A Bridge When The Other Sees No Divide."¹

On the flip side of the coin, few call themselves "New Agers," even when the beliefs they hold would identify them, to others, as immersed in the New Age milieu. Part of this stems from a New Age aversion to labels. But the larger and more significant part roots in the nature of the movement itself.

Absent from the New Age movement is the element of organized structure so characteristic of Christian churches. In the main, New Age ideology spreads through a casual web of personal tastes and affiliations, without dependence upon progressive levels of instruction or formal social settings. In but rare instances, one’s experience in New Age circles is catch-as-catch-can, stay-till-you-leave: an individual’s sense of loyalty to any single New Age group floats on the leading of a very fluid spirit.

And seldom do these groups host a comprehensive New Age agenda. Rather each loose circle focuses upon a certain teaching, cause or guide. Hence, participants are unlikely to view their own involvement as New Age; instead, one person may embrace an esoteric healing technique and see that as strictly a health matter, while another may study astrology, considering that pursuit more metaphysical than New Age. In the long run, the term "New Age" tends to be more useful as a sociological umbrella, for a wide range of practices and beliefs that often predate and exceed the movement, than as a means of identifying one’s own beliefs.

So, then, if individuals are likely to identify themselves as Christians whether or not Christ-centered observances and faith are important in their lives, yet are unlikely to identify themselves as New Agers even when they espouse New Age practices and beliefs, what are we to make of such self-descriptive tags? No doubt, remarks such as "I am a Christian" or "I am a New Ager" can be revealing, but more so when taken with a grain of salt. As often as such comments tell of one’s beliefs so are they subject to misinterpretation, simply because the terms "Christian" and "New Age" are rarely used in commensurable ways.

Picking this apart still further, how descriptive is the term "Christian" in understanding what a practicing, faithful individual believes? Even conscientious, well-churched Christians don’t always accept, and often aren’t familiar with, the doctrines of their denomination. And if the degrees of personal adherence to the teachings of one’s church can wildly vary, far greater is the gamut of teachings that span the myriad denominations. The notion of a single Christianity, marked by a single set of beliefs, washes up empty in the face of the reality. What does a Christian believe? Well, find a Christian and ask him! (And then ask the guy next to him to get yet another answer.)

Granted, certain beliefs are typical of Christians in an ideal sense: that Jesus Christ existed historically; that Jesus Christ is the Son of God; that some sort of standard for moral conduct is worth emulating; and so on. But the key beliefs, which might comprise whatever our list, are, as I see it, quite few. Furthermore, if an individual does not accept a typical belief, that doesn’t mean he or she isn’t Christian. Specific beliefs are normative for, not the criteria of, a Christian.

If Christians are widely varied in what each believes and if a person can easily profess New Age beliefs without even recognizing them as New Age, can one hold Christian and New Age views at the same time? Not only is a composite of Christian and New Age concepts possible to a single individual, such is likely, even inevitable, as exposure to New Age ideas increases. And exposure is commonplace today, both through the media and in social circles, a trend in the direction of our cultural thought that shows no signs of diminishing.

Indeed, as I see it, New Age concepts and styles are proliferating within our society. Increasingly, people agree with New Age thought, simply because these ideas take on heightened credibility the more they are repeated. It is a natural, human process of absorbing prevalent cultural undertones. Unless a dramatic shift occurs in the drift of our society, I think it likely that, within the next few decades, New Age ideology will thoroughly permeate our culture, albeit in very pragmatic, mundane ways.

Hardly do I expect we’ll all become channelers donning crowns of crystals — but whoever, anyway, would presume that some outward flash or garb or ritual is chiefly what the New Age is about? Rather, what we hold to be generally true will be shaped by an emphasis on planetary unity, the importance of discovering truth within, the downplay or even demise of the concept of sin, and so on.

That New Age ideas seem to be gaining ever greater ground in our social perspective need not mean Christianity will decline. In fact, I would expect the reverse. Once seen as ideological rivals, Christianity will likely assume a measure of New Age flavor. Concepts, earlier rejected outright, will begin to take on an appearance of plausibility, albeit when set into a distinctively Christian framework. Some ideas, of course, will not find acceptance in Christian circles; reincarnation, a view of the afterlife radically other than the kingdom of heaven, is, I suspect, one such unlikely candidate for assimilation into any mainstream Christian church. However, the notion that all religions share the same spiritual impetus and the idea that one’s connection to God must be inwardly discovered are just two elements of New Age thought which already seem to be accepted by many Christians privately. In short, I suggest that Christianity, itself a bastion of our cultural disposition, will absorb New Age ideas no less than any other aspect of our society. Again, that is a natural process of adjusting to new waves of thought through simple, repeated exposure.

Fairly much of a no-brainer is it to say that our social order is undergoing great challenge, great stress. In these times of flux, fresh ideas soak into the larger culture at a lightning-fast pace. Were I to project ahead, based on what I have seen within my own lifespan, I would have to add that while New Age ideas will indeed change the texture of our society, this might not occur in ways New Agers would expect — or applaud.

As one who came of age in the sixties, I know that many of the concepts my children take for granted would not be much of a thought in anyone’s mind were it not for those courageous, outrageous thinkers of the sixties. From views on sexuality to pacifism, from civil rights to women’s rights, from ecology to globalism, the sixties movement transformed our worldview. Ideas scattered across a vast range of topics became focalized issues, given voice, power and momentum by a generation that took them up as its cause. Still, as influential as the sixties movement was, I am saddened to see its values now so watered down by decades of social digestion. As the culture assimilated our ideas, it stripped them of the sixties’ spirit and relevance, often with insipid, even perverse, results. Sexual freedom, for example, takes a wholly other bent in the hardened, sterile head of the nineties than it had in the richly exuberant sixties’ atmosphere.

In similar manner, while the impetus for what we may take for granted a couple-three decades down the road might rest today in the hearts of New Agers, once the larger culture begins to own New Age ideas, their direction and character will mutate in ways we cannot foresee, and may not much like. Moreover, the amorphousness of the New Age movement — even if the epitome of the culture at large, the very mirror of a disoriented historical moment — does not bode well for effecting a predictable change in the social order.

My own experience of the history that occurred within my lifetime shapes, yet colors my thoughts on what may eventuate from today’s New Age movement. Still, that kind of inductive reasoning fails to allow for the possibility that what is happening today — and what will happen tomorrow — could be totally unprecedented, wholly new. While I look to the past as instructive for understanding what may come of the present, it is imaginable that this may be different. And that chance is one we must hold widely open, lest we become so inured to a normative pattern of social evolution that we blind ourselves to the newness and surprise of a totally other that stands straight in our face.

¹Christian*New Age Quarterly 8:1 (January-March 1996).

© 2008 Christian*New Age Quarterly. All rights reserved.

Reprinted with permission, “Each a Different Kind” was originally published by Christian*New Age Quarterly 10:4 (October-December 1998). For more information on Christian*New Age Quarterly, write to Catherine Groves, Editor at PO Box 276, Clifton, NJ 07015-0276 or visit christiannewage.com.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Christianity Christian Fundamentalism Meditation Metaphysics Occultism New Age
Self-Help/Self-Improvement Spirit-Guided Community

GO TO INDEX

Live Show

By Tamara Wilhite

Tamara Wilhite is the author of Humanity's Edge, Geronimo Redux (PDF Edition), Natural Talent (PDF Edition)” and Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell. She is also an engineer and the “IE in IT” blogger for the Institute of Industrial Engineers.

“Humanity’s Edge”, my first full anthology, had come out. I was thrilled when we were able to arrange an interview on a national radio program, the Rollye James show. Since my children were two years and two months old at the time, we set up the interview at 10 PM. My husband would take care of the kids, but it should have been easy, because they should have been asleep.

Ten PM rolled around. Everyone in the house except me was asleep. Ten minutes into the interview, my two-month-old son decided he was hungry. And my husband was sound asleep. I snuck into his room with a pacifier and tried to quiet my son while still discussing my book with the radio host. Murphy’s Law would have it that we were live, and I was trying to juggle a phone and a crying baby while a bottle warmed up in the microwave. I hoped it wouldn’t get worse.

Too late! My newborn son's crying had woken up my 2-year-old daughter. She promptly joined in the hungry wailing. "Mommy? Mommy, I want a snack."

"Not right now. Go back to bed," I tried to whisper.

"Mommy! Get off the phone RIGHT NOW! I want a SNACK!" Of course she said it loud enough that all 2 million radio listeners heard it loud and clear. I found a juice box and gave it to her. “If the baby gets food, I DO TOO!”

I asked for a commercial break and received one. During that window, my daughter’s yelling woke up my husband, who until then had been obliviously asleep. He asked if the interview was over.

“No, but it is about to be.”

My time slot was over after the commercial break. Rollye James and I conversed several days later. She was willing to schedule a five-minute follow-up, since my childrens’ ruckus had wiped out that much of the interview. “I’ll have to admit, it’s been one of my most memorable interviews.”

© 2008 Tamara Wilhite. All rights reserved.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

General Community Humor Parenting/Family Relationships

GO TO INDEX

Kids Can Publish University

By Lynda Exley

Lynda Exley is a Five Star Publications ambassador, award-winning journalist, SanTan Sun News editor, former editor of Houston Parent and Arizona Parenting magazines, nonfiction ghostwriter and cofounder with Five Star Publications owner Linda Radke of Kids Can Publish University. Information on Exley's Kids Can Publish workshops, which she presents to second through ninth-grade students, is also available on the website. Just click on "Schools" and scroll down to workshops. Together, Radke and Exley are co-authoring a book for children in grades 3-9 designed to inspire children to write and tell them how they can get published. Exley can be contacted at exlent@aol.com (no attachments, please).

Kids Experience Publishing Thrill Through Free Contest

Kids stay on the “write” track with Kids Can Publish University, a new organization that promotes literacy and a love for writing and illustrating through free monthly contests that reward winners with published bylines.

“Children like to write more than many adults realize,” says Linda Radke, owner of Five Star Publications who co-founded Kids Can Publish University with Lynda Exley, an award-winning editor and writer. “It’s just a matter of giving them incentives to motivate them to stay interested in writing and develop a desire for continuous improvement. Because nothing is more exciting for a child than to see his or her “winning” byline in print, we developed a monthly Kids Can Publish contest for first- through ninth-graders.”

Children can enter writing or drawing assignments they've already done for their classrooms or create something new for the contest, and they can enter as often as they wish. Entries are broken down into age categories and genre, including editorials, nonfiction articles, fictional stories, poems, cartoons, photos, etc. Each month, Kids Can Publish selects pieces in each age divisions to publish online. Only the very best entries are posted, making it an honor to be chosen. Winners also receive a Kids Can Publish: Write on! wristband. In addition, KPCU offers grant-writing information to teachers, school workshops and a bookstore.

“The teachers in my building are always looking for places to showcase their student's work. Your contest highlights the importance of creativity in writing and art,” says Libby Kahn, library media specialist at Nesaquake Middle School in St. James N.Y. “In this age of technology, it will be very exciting to be published online.”

Radke and Exley aren’t stopping there, however. They recently began offering school workshops to jazz children up about writing and drawing, are in the process of obtaining celebrity endorsements and eventually would like to have an annual contest whereby winners actually get a book published.

“We are actively seeking sponsors for better prizes, as well as book sponsors for a yearly contest we would like to offer children, whereby the winner gets his or her book physically published,” adds Radke, a publisher for more than 21 years. “Because I have published books by several authors who wrote their books at ages 13 and younger, I know there are kids out there with talent enough to write wonderful books, and I would like to help them get their manuscripts out into the world.”

To enter the monthly Kids Can Publish Contest, children must send their entries in with an official submission form that requires a parent’s permission to submit. The submission form and entry instructions can be downloaded from www.KidsCanPublish.com. Kids Can Publish University.

© 2008 Lynda Exley. All rights reserved.

Five Star Publications can be reached at info@FiveStarPublications.com, www.FiveStarPublications.com, or 480-940-8182.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Children's Books Creativity Education General Community Parenting/Family

GO TO INDEX

Dreams for Stock Market Investing

By Walt Stover, M.A.
Walt Stover has studied dreams for almost thirty years and has over 15,000 dreams in his own journals. Approximately 7% of these dreams deal with various aspects of investing. He has a Masters Degree in Transpersonal Studies and wrote a thesis on dreams. Walt has been successfully using dreams for stock market investing since the mid 1990s.

DREAMING FOR PROSPERITY

Do you have fascinating dreams? Do they include messages leading to prosperity and abundance? Join me now as I awaken you to the quest for such tantalizing and elusive information. My overall belief about dreams is that they are given for transformation, spiritual growth, and healing. My precognitive dreams started on a small scale in 1978 and have continued to evolve. The dreams about financial matters began in 1983 and clearly involved the stock market. I did not seek or ask for this information. It just spontaneously arose from by subconscious. At first I was extremely hesitant about trusting investment decisions to a dream. In September, 1987, I had two ominous warning dreams about the market and immediately sold all of my stocks. A month later, the market plunged over 500 points in one day and I suddenly became a believer. This fascinating activity has continued, and I now have these dreams 5-6 times per month. In 1998, I formed the Precognitive Stock Market Dream group which now includes twenty one members scattered around the world. This group exchanges approximately fifteen dream messages per month about investing.

DREAMS OF GENERAL MARKET CONDITIONS

Dreams about general financial conditions are extremely important during market corrections such as the sharp sell off in July-September, 1998. As this gut wrenching decline continued, I had a dream on 8/15/98 about the stock market acting like an old time sailing vessel in a raging storm that threatened to capsize the vessel. Suddenly we received a weather report telling us that the storm was abating and there was smoother water ahead. The market hit its low point two weeks later and continued to recover. Another dreamer in Aug., 1998 was concerned about the market down turn. Then he had a dream in which he saw two very obese people walking down the street from the rear. When he saw their extremely large bottoms, he realized that the market was at a bottom level and his investments were safe.

DREAMS ABOUT SPECIFIC COMPANIES

One group member dreamed about being in a large casino and playing a slot machine. He immediately hit the jackpot and coins and a product like cardboard came flowing out. He knew immediately that the product was extremely valuable. A few days later, he read an article about a company named Lifecell that made an identical product and immediately bought that stock. Other group members have also had dreams about Lifecell and this stock has soared dramatically in vale starting in 2003.

DREAMS WITH STRONG SYMBOLIC CONTENT

Dreams do not always mention specific company names but provide strong symbolic connections. One man living in Atlanta was dreaming about the stock market in mid 1994. He saw a long group of bright, orange buildings that were all connected together. These buildings extended as far as the eye could see and wound up a series of high hills. He immediately connected this dream to the bright, orange Home Depot stores located all over Atlanta . His stock in this company has increased six fold since he bought it in 1994. In another dream in late 1996, a man walked into a brokerage office and looked out the window. He saw a building where they manufactured jam and jelly sitting at the bottom of a deep hole. Upon checking with his actual broker, he found that Smucker's was the only listed company making jam and jellies. He purchased the stock at $16 and was delighted a few months later when it rose to $28.

MAJOR SUCCESS STORIES

Having a major success with market dreams is rare but it does happen. One group member in California kept having repeating dreams about a biotech company named Icos. In early 1995, he invested his life savings in that stock at $4.50/share and found it to be a very peaceful decision. In 1998, he sold most of his stock at $15 0 20/share and pocketed a high six figure profit. Such events do not represent the average result but are feasible. I have personally had major success with ten specific stocks with overall gains of over one million dollars in the past 8 - 10 years. My biggest gain was with Boyd Gaming where my stock went from $4 to $52 in just four years and I made a mid six figure profit.

GROUP CLUSTER DREAMS

Great success can be achieved when a group of people have similar dreams about the stock market. In late 2002, The PSMD members reported twelve dreams about general market conditions. Ten of these dreams were highly bullish and I became 100% invested at that time. Later in 2003 and early 2004 my investments soared dramatically. A similar series of dreams occurred to PSMD group members in July — October of 2006 that is currently pointing to higher stock market levels in 2007. Our group members were also alerted by several dreams in April — May about the mid year sells off in gold and silver commodities which were devastating to owners of precious metals.

DREAM RECALL AND INCUBATION

If you are an active dreamer now, you may want to explore the subject of dream incubation to create dreams on specific subjects such as investing. If you are not an active dreamer now, there are many possible paths to awaken and improve you abilities in this area. Both of these subjects are explored in detail in my book Dreams — My Lamp Unto The Darkness. This book is based on my personal expediencies over the past twenty eight years with 15,000 of my own dreams, and also includes numerous dreams from PSMD members about investing.

© 2008 Walt Stover. All rights reserved.

Walt Stover can be reached at his website at www.stockdreams.org.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Business Dreams & Dreaming Finances General Community Investing Marketing Meditation Money Motivational Psychology & Mental Health Religion & Spirituality Spirit-Guided Community Transpersonal Psychology

(Companies mentioned in this article: Body Gaming (http://www.boydgaming.com), Home Depot (http://www.homedepot.com), and Lifecell (http://www.lifecell.com).

GO TO INDEX

Journey in Time — Writing an Epic

By Angelica Harris
Mythical Fantasy author Angelica Harris, www.angelicaharris.com, lives in NY with her family. She is the author of books The Quest For Excalibur and Excalibur and the Holy Grail. Harris is a member of the S.C. A. and loves Fencing. At present she is writing her third book, Excalibur Reclaims Her King, with Corey Blake due out in December 2008.

To sign up for THE ANGELICA HARRIS NEWSLETTER, contact her at angelica@angelicaharris.com today.

I cannot believe that is has been four years since I began writing my book Excalibur Reclaims Her King. In total, it has been twelve years since I started my book series, with book titles The Quest For Excalibur and Excalibur and the Holy Grail. It has been an adventure and a wild ride with so many twists and turns, some good and some not so good. The hard times were trying to write while taking care of a son with neurological and learning problems, along with a husband who suffers greatly with Bipolar disorder and an Immune deficiency that almost took his life. Believe me, keeping your head clear at the keyboard is not easy with all he medical jargon on your mind. What I found was that writing was my escape, like an escape from Alcatraz, only reality. The more I wrote the more I found clarity to take care of them and take care of my passion — telling stories.

The best part was forming an incredible partnership with Corey Blake Chairman of Writers of the Round Table and Writers of the Round Table Press. We met six years ago online. I sent him my first book for review and he loved it, though he saw such potential for more depth in my work. My first two books had been edited, but not developed, like the third one, we are currently engaged in.

Corey was itchy to get his hands on the third book, as he does love Fantasy, with Medieval History Elements. I remember I tested him and asked him to describe an evil in the world. The description he sent to me blew my mind, which was when I started sending to him some samples of my work. He read the first few chapters and saw an epic, but the epic needed much work, and a hook to get the reader pulled into the storyline.

Corey gave me a small push using a magical prop for my protagonist Arianna Lawrence. I ran with it and before we knew it, the story took on a life of its own. It was amazing. But it did not stop there. Corey gave to me assignments towards building my characters: their names, where they came from, and what made each man and woman tick. It was an exercise in forming a three dimensional human being, from conception to birth to literally forming a soul, seeing the humanity, and finding the voice of my characters as they grew and unfolded on the page.

Still, it was not enough. To put characters’ on a page you need a setting, a place in time, and here is where the homework of an author must be done. Since my books are period pieces—my character Arianna Lawrence is a powerful High Priestess who can open time gates to other worlds throughout different periods in history—I had my work cut out for me! Arianna takes readers to her home world in twenty-first Century America back to Sixth Century England where King Arthur and Merlin rule in books one and two. In book three, Arianna goes further back to third Century Rome where she meets Constantine the Great and his mother Empress Helena. From there, they travel on to Third Century Jerusalem where they must find the Titulus of Christ.

For me, this research became an incredible task, as I have never been to Europe or Jerusalem in my lifetime. So with pleasure, I spent many countless hours in the library, turning the pages of history and geography books, surfing on the net and searching Barnes and Noble, and A and E, the Discovery Channel, the History Channels and online for DVDs on documentaries to round out my research. To be honest, after awhile I was eating, sleeping and drinking my work as it became my life’s blood. You know, this is funny: one night my husband went to kiss me goodnight—as I was up late knee-deep in research—and I kissed him back and called him “Arthur”. His name is John! That’s how intense this has become for me. Wow, what a wonderful journey, an adventure. I will tell you this, doing research is like being a Pirate; you are constantly on your ship, standing on the crows’ nest, with spyglass in hand searching for buried treasure. It is like looking for that diamond in the rough, you know the one you want to polish and look at all shiny and new? When you find what you are looking for, what a find it is. It is like bathing in the river Jordan and then watching the sunrise from the edge of the water where the horizon is eternal.

This is what my stories have become for me: watching the sunrise from the horizon and keeping my eye on the polished diamond as the story continues to unfold. Now, Corey and I turn the page on the editing table where we will draw swords again.

© 2008 Angelica Harris. All rights reserved.

For more information visit www.angelicaharris.com or www.writersoftheroundtable.com.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Literature & Fiction Fiction Anthologies Historical Fiction History Mystery/Thrillers
Science Fiction & Fantasy Literary Community Literary Criticism Myths & Mythology Publishing Writers & Writing

GO TO INDEX

Just Ask Gail — A Column by Gail Fonda

By Gail Fonda
Gail Fonda is an online freelance writer. She graduated from Kent State University's School of Journalism, and has been writing on a variety of subjects over the past 30 years. When she discovered the world of the Internet, she found she could be more selective in her writing choices, as opposed to being "assigned" stories to write about. Keep reading her column at DREAMWalker Group to find out what's ahead!

Exercise: Do it Daily!

I used to be sick all of the time. By that I mean that I had lots of colds, flu, fever, strep throats, tonsillitis, bronchitis, urinary tract infections, diarrhea and infections of various kinds for 30 years! Exercise changed that.

In addition, I’ve been shy, introverted, anxiety-prone, nervous, depressed and high strung, also for 30 years! I also have migraines, acid reflux disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and low self-esteem stemming from a dysfunctional family background. Exercise didn’t eliminate that, but it sure made a huge positive impact!

I tried taking vitamins. That just upset my stomach. I changed my diet to exclude red meat. I try to eat as many vegetables, whole grains, fish and poultry as possible. I know poultry still contains some potential carcinogens, as do some other products. But I do try to be has health-conscious as possible.

I love chocolate. I love coffee. Those are my two biggest sins, but I still indulge in moderation. And that goes for everything. Not one human being on this earth can be totally perfect. It’s simply not possible. But I am constantly working on it.

I started exercising at the age of 30 and have continued to do so to the age of 55, which is where I am right now. There have been various exercise fads over the years and I think I’ve tried most of them. It doesn’t matter, I just keep moving, and I love it!

I think I need to tell all of America how exhilarating exercise is, even when you’ve had a horrible day and you just want to curl up and do nothing!

Exercise helps get rid of the water retention from high blood pressure medication. Exercise helps calm the nervous anxiety I have on a daily basis. Exercise helps motivate me when I am depressed. Exercise gives me that ‘exercise high’ from the endorphins, a chemical in the brain that causes happiness and calmness, both together.

Exercise helps relieve aches and pains from all the signs of aging. None of us can stop the aging process. I have lines on my face, my teeth are cracking from age, my hair is thinner and greyer. Some of my skin is sagging on my thighs, but exercise helps get rid of some cellulite, as well. Exercise slows down the aging process.

I feel pretty crummy, mentally and physically, when I miss just two days of exercise. I feel bloated and anxious and don’t sleep as well when I skip. I try to exercise even when I’m not feeling well, which happens a lot. I work full time and am really tired. I have two dogs to walk, daily. I have many chores at home to do. I have dinner to prepare. I have as many excuses NOT to exercise as anyone else.

There are no excuses worth paying attention to or giving in to; it’s an absolute necessity! I have changed my exercise routine many times over the years and it’s probably a good thing to do that. There are different methods and programs to take, and there are different instructors, all with different routines.

I take spinning classes (stationery bicycle), high impact aerobics, one-hour weight classes, hip-hop dance, boot camp, step classes (with a bench) and I also use an elliptical machine and other machines, on my own. It’s harder to motivate yourself when you’re alone on a machine than it is in a class of 50 or more people, but I do it. And you can do it, too!

© 2008 Gail Fonda. All rights reserved.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Aging Alternative Health Alternative Medicine Fitness/Exercise General Community Health
Hip Hop Inspirational Immortality Pets Psychology & Mental Health Self-Improvement Yoga

GO TO INDEX

Queens Take Longer , I Suppose -- a short story

Fiction

By Royston Tester
Royston Tester is a British-born writer currently living in Beijing. His short fiction has appeared in various U.S. and Canadian journals — and in 2004 he published Summat Else (Porcupine's Quill). The story that follows, 'Queens Take Longer, I Suppose' explores the effect of a trip to Buchenwald on Emil Toc, a Romanian woodworker struggling with immigrant life — a Chinese lover and voyeuristic friends — in modern-day Toronto. It is one of several linked stories in a forthcoming collection, You Turn Your Back (Biblioasis, Canada).

The January visit to Weimar, Germany — last year.

It had shaken Emil up.

Along Clinton Street in December drizzle, he scooped a leaf from the sidewalk. Doesn’t it just have to be beech? Warm to the touch, like skin.

Emil turned its tiny stalk.

The story of the Rileys does not really begin or end with a beech leaf — but he had to grab onto something.

There was precious else.

Emil relied on finds to steer him — and the voices in his head were no use. Cavorting to and fro. Not a tale to tell, no tale. You are a coward. And dilly-dallying.

He wished it otherwise.

A wound his place of exile — or worse.

He walked past the Diplomatico restaurant, sliding his thumb over the leaf’s glossy, bronze cheek, and felt ridiculous. Humiliated at behaving so harshly towards his friends.

On College Street, he looked back at the Rileys’ car reversing into the one-way street. He recalled Barry’s amused expression through the half-open tinted window, scoffing at his wife’s driving. Linda’s bloodshot eyes, the tattooed arm struggling to turn the wheel.

She was not in tears about maneuvering their obstinate Renault from the Clinton School parking lot. Emil knew it was their fruitless afternoon. Nothing regained in friendship, or promised.

“Too high maintenance” was Barry’s take on Emil Toc. This lunch no exception. “Are you wasting time eating with us?”

Linda was speechless with rage.

Wave, man — at least. Do more than craft wood Emil, you freak of a journeyman. The three of you have been close for a decade.

Emil stood at the corner. You’re savoring the cruelty — and you must stop.

Earlier, at the meal, Linda Riley had been in jovial form, regaling Emil and Barry with Christmas.

“It was my sister’s turn to do the turkey,” Linda told them. “She might be a social worker, but our family winds her up. Too country, most of 'em, for Sandra’s liking.”

After the last mince pies were eaten, brandies chugged — “and without laying a finger on the dishes” — Linda’s sister marched to the new ‘King Kong’ film, near Brampton Mall.

“Sandra was the only one in the cinema!”

Barry laughed. “That’s your goofball sister.”

“She hadn’t realized how deep the plot was,” Linda said. “The movie’s set in the Great Depression, 1930’s.”

Barry was paying scant attention. Like a sparrow, he nibbled squares of bread, glancing at a streetcar.

Emil looked at him — frustrated that this man had become such a stranger. Remote. So perverse in betraying him last year when Emil was away in his Transylvania hometown: Viscri, Romania.

Barry, who tried unsuccessfully to put together Fernando and Ios — two of Emil’s longtime ex-lovers. What was he thinking? His breach of friendship was unforgivable; his taste for stirring trouble out of other people’s lives. Schadenfreude in the first degree.

“My sister got completely involved,” Linda went on. “How Anne Darrow, the unemployed vaudeville actress is picked up on the streets of Manhattan for an expedition to some uncharted Skull Island on Sumatra.”

“Uncharted?”

“You heard.”

“Read that, did you?” he asked. “I thought Sandra went to see Adrian Brody? Isn’t he in it?”

“That too,” Linda sniggered.

“How does Anne Darrow love a King Kong, then?” asked Emil.

“By dancing for him, and juggling and doing somersaults,” replied Linda. “Watching a sunset together.”

Barry hooted. “Wild time in the sack?”

He dropped his jaw for more bread. Linda slapped Barry’s arm.

At the end of ‘King Kong’ — after the ape falls to his death from the Empire State Building — Linda’s sister again found herself alone in the spacious auditorium. A teenaged usherette, in blue blazer, by the exit.

“That good?” said Barry. “Or was she petrified by rampaging T-Rexes and giant spiders?”

“It’s a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ knock-off, I heard,” added Emil.

The blue blazer came up to Linda’s sister and enquired, warily, if she was okay.

“I’m not a loser,’ Sandra told the girl as she struggled along the row. She was a mess, you wouldn’t believe. ‘Here all by myself.’”

The kid glared at Sandra “as though she was retarded.”

“All my company’s gone,’ Sandra carried on. ‘I needed to chill.’”

Barry shook his head.

“It’s the sisters’ greatest fear, Emil,” he explained. “To be solitary and have someone notice.”

“Sitting alone with King Kong is pretty tough,” remarked Emil.

“You guys,” said Linda. “My sister was embarrassed. Christmas Day like a leper? C’mon! It’s not Sandra one bit.”

Emil wanted to forgive Barry for his devious conduct while he was overseas. The crime was not so heinous. Yet Emil was swept up in revulsion — a tide that would not recede. He had not spoken to his work colleague for months — nor to Linda for over a year. He declined an invitation for Thanksgiving. It was like being stunned — until today’s get-together.

And now look!

Emil stood at the corner, beside Little Italy’s Diplomatico, and watched as the Rileys’ car made its way north to Harbord — brake lights flashing goodbye. He fancied.

You’re a pathetic Romanian immigrant, Emil Toc. Feeling exploited at every turn, a duck on display. You hold resentment and anger — like a flame — to your breast. Smarten up, as Linn would say. Cut the slack.

At Emil’s Parkdale apartment above the Laundromat, Linn was waiting.

“Survived?” he asked, pinching Emil’s arm.

He had let himself in — and was bouncing Seriously, their green and yellow speckled monkey (a teddy, to be frank), on his knee.

“What do you think?”

“You dumped the Rileys, I hope?” he answered, wiggling Seriously’s arms in a chorus line. “They use you for thrills enough.”

Emil lay against Linn’s thigh.

Affectionately, Linn began to twist his hair — plucking at the knotty peaks on Emil’s scalp.

“No.”

“You can’t?” He yanked a clump of thick, black mop. “Or won’t?”

“It’s not the answer,” Emil told him.

Linn pulled once, twice — and held. The roots tenting white like gooseflesh.

“What is the answer?”

“Got me there, Linn,” he replied, wrenching his head free, taking the tan leaf from his pocket.

Emil laid it in his palm.

“Indoors?” Linn recoiled.

“Toss it?”

“Leaves are full of germs, don’t you know that?”

Emil placed his find on a side table — beneath the mantelpiece holding lollipop-stick models of tables, chairs, and a Transylvania four-poster bed — determined it would mean something eventually.

“I’m hanging onto it,” he replied.

The leaf felt drier in the house. Its many veins prone, losing luster.

“I don’t want the Rileys as friends,” Emil repeated, incredulous. “So I keep my mouth shut.”

“Very telling, Emil.”

“That I’m fucked in the head?”

“Nope,” he shot back. “The solution’s not so easy.”

*

There was always skin, witness Bachalowsky reported at the Nuremberg trials. They skinned prisoners, then tanned the skin. Emil reads an exhibit board in Buchenwald camp, near Weimar.

It is January 3rd, 2006.

He has taken a break from the year’s leave to Viscri — and is seeing his childhood friend Christiane in Germany. They have traveled south from Berlin to stay with her husband Norbert’s parents — to enjoy the famous city of Goethe, Schiller and Bach.

Emil is chilled to the bone.

Two o’clock and they spent the morning on a long hike to the Etter Keep. The panorama of rolling hills took Emil’s breath away. A trail through the beech wood bid the travelers welcome. Hitler’s S.S., so the note explains, received orders for human flesh. It was also given, as gifts, to the Buchenwald guards and visitors. For book covers.

Emil gazes at the sentence — and wonders what to do next. He is standing where the pre-skinned stood. He’s walking their paths, admiring the same distant fields, and trees and sky.

‘Buchenwald’ means beech wood, the note adds. You wonder whether it matters.

“Everyone should visit the camp,” Christiane’s husband announced. “Observe how well we Germans chew our nails in guilt.”

“He doesn’t have to, Norbert.”

“Don’t I?” Emil replied. He was not convinced. “Let’s look in.”

They needed to move. Winds tore up the Ettersberg mountain. A pallid, winter sun gave no heat. It felt frigid, standing still.

You do not drop in on a concentration camp.

This much Emil learned.

As he, Norbert and Christiane neared the entrance — with its cynical, iron wrought dictum: Jedem Das Seine (‘To Each According to his Merits’) — Emil sensed their impulsive excursion, his curiosity, were in peril. Of irreversible harm. Not a reason to turn back, or to have stayed away. A question of approach.

Pilgrimage. Honoring those who died or survived. Their families, friends.

It takes time.

The trio rambled into hell — and there was nothing before them but a giant’s space on the hillside. Wind, silence. Beech trees, oak and birch far off. Evergreen. Barbed wire at their backs.

A parade ground? Devilish footprint?

And beyond it, on closer inspection, the foundations — some recognized with carefully placed stones, recently lain flowers — of buildings. Blocks where the prisoners were housed.

Human tattooed skin was piled in Block 2. Nazis were especially fascinated by tattoos with obscene images.

Emil lasts forty-five minutes. To each his own. At this evil precinct in a clearing outside Weimar en suite vistas of an Aryan idyll..

He is standing in front of a roped area. A pile of ordinary footwear within. Inmates were here for years, or hours — or forever. Two hundred and fifty thousand men, women. Children in Block 66.

Christiane and Norbert hurry with him up the slope towards the gate. No-one speaks, looking ahead. Jedem Das Seine. The three bent forward against the elements. A Thuringian gale has strengthened — whipping leaves and twigs across their shins.

Emil’s cheek is wet from cold, eyes stinging. It is New Year. Difficult to know if you’re weeping — in such pain to flee.

*

Linn brought his rice cooker and was in the kitchen preparing a dinner of eggplant and steamed vegetables. Emil had his dried beech leaf for company, and Seriously. The Riley rigmarole to disentangle.

Stay or go?

You’d think an immigrant would know.

Yet one single incident dominated this holiday and New Year. Emil didn’t forget that, either. Who could see the wood for the trees? Just before Christmas, he received news that Christiane had suffered a stab wound to the neck.

“An Opinel knife blade,” she noted. “Goes in like butter.”

The incident in Berlin — a city hall department party, a depressed co-worker — left the young woman partially paralyzed. In Emil’s many phone calls, he had been moved, though not surprised, by Christiane’s will to overcome that setback. By her concern for the assailant, Jörg Buhs.

From the Mitte Clinic, she fretted over the assassin’s mental state; the effect of his arrest and imprisonment on his wife Helga, whom Christiane knew, and their three young children.

“Feeling more toe and finger today,” she reported on the telephone.

Emil imagined the creeping back.

Her two daughters brush Christiane’s hair. Norbert massages the feet, puts brightly colored socks upon them. Runs his hands along her arms, around her fingertips.

“He’s very good,” she tells Emil. “You must find a devotee like him.”

Emil pictures the family around the bed — Gisela and Magdalena grooming their mother; Norbert’s hands upon her supple flesh, kindling.

“I think of spring, Emil,” she says. “Your return to Viscri. So many visits these days! Just imagine how often you can come to Berlin, tour my office at the Rotesrathaus. You’ll need vacations from the Prince of Wales’s contract.”

This is Emil’s picture of Christiane.

Through Christmas and New Year — with her — he is anticipating spring. Greenery, regeneration. A pair of new shoes on Christiane’s feet.

Surely she will stand in March?

He has told the Rileys about his friend’s ordeal and gradual, inspired recovery. She may never again walk properly — but will proceed on two legs. Return to her Rathaustrasse job, faculties intact.

Linda Riley was considerate enough to remark on Christiane’s suffering. Barry, not a flicker of concern for Emil’s childhood pal — or him.

Emil did not understand it. The Rileys lack of feeling for his tragic tale — other than keeping mention of it brief.

No discussion of near murder.

No talk, either — of Emil’s lucrative carpentry commission from the English prince who owned property in Viscri, and was renovating. Not even much remorse from Barry for playing matchmaker with Emil’s old partners.

Friendship with Barry and Linda, with Canada — how the monster gnawed.

Linn was unequivocal — too so, perhaps — about friends like these. He made rice after the direst pronouncements.

His name — Linn — bemused Emil. It meant ‘sensitive plant’. There he was advocating the severing of ties with Barry and Linda. Pale flowers without petals, only pistils, was a Linn. Thorns on its red-brown stems.

What Emil liked about ‘sensitive plant Linn’ was that in its native country, where rainfall was merciless, a drop of water — or any touch — would cause the fern-like leaves to close and so protect the tender fronds inside.

“Go to her,” Linn said immediately, at the news of Christiane’s demise.

“Cut them off!” he declared of the Rileys, learning about their tricks.

When Emil divined that Christiane would live — and that she needed respite — he arranged to see her on his return to Europe in a fortnight’s time. A visit he would parlay — with Mr. Diewick’s approval — into five months between Berlin and Viscri. To complete his princely beds. He would take Seriously with him.

“Yet another trip,” Christiane said.

Linn conceded to its length.

The Linn plant is poisonous but a herb to calm people down, and halt bleeding. Maybe that was the part of him currently in Emil’s kitchen. The man he loved, grappling with a rice cooker. More of a sleeping grass, hilahila as Hawaiians would say. Shy, healing. That was more like Linn. In China, used for lung conditions — to help breathing. Emil’s best medicine.

Just as he had not flown instantly to Berlin, so he would not eliminate the Rileys from his life. This was where Emil was headed, he now understood. Keeping company with them.

How King Kong the reversal.

*

Waiting for a bus at Buchenwald.

Emil mouths the line.

Or would you call a cab? We’re at Buchenwald. You can’t miss it. There’s a chimney. Ornamental gate work and so on. Summary executions. Medical experiments.

Goethe never stood here. Or Schiller, Bach. At the end of . . . . What’s the name of this street? Emil peers across the road. Sign as bold as day: Blut Strasse. Naturally. It couldn’t be anything else but blood.

Or did he?

Where would Goethe have strolled, before death camps? Might he have walked between these trees? He’d have sat beneath a beech on the Ettersberg mountain — praising heaven for his triumphant Sorrows of Young Werther. Muttering phrases that would become Faust.

Not the embarrassed hush of Emil, Christiane and Norbert. His was a pause between verses and imagining. Theirs was shame — likewise a quiet that was no goodnight.

What comes after the bus for Weimar?

Emil gazes at a beech nearby. In Viscri he is using this wood for the royal four-posters. He presses a hand against its smooth, silver-grey belly.

In summer, the dense twiggery and foliage would obscure any sun. No crowds beneath, no sensitive plants. Only nuts — for pigs — and prickly husks. In Romania, they call it the mosaic tree. With leaves lying alternately on a branch, the beech readily offers up patterns for someone beneath.

This afternoon, the tree’s a skeleton — jostling its way out of winter.

“Here’s our ride,” says Christiane, pointing down the hill.

“People knew,” said Norbert out of nowhere, heaving his packsack.

Emil glances at the tree. Its black ribs sparring.

“City burghers watched road gangs from the camp,” he went on, climbing aboard. “They worked next to starving prison folk at the munitions factory.”

Emil looks at Norbert’s back.

The people knew.

Like them, Emil says nothing. Buys his ticket, finds his bones a place.

Journey into Weimar — fifteen minutes.

*

Barry requested the lunchtime tab.

“My husband’s in the money really, aren’t you darlin’?”

Linda hugged him and smacked a kiss.

“You’ve seen his flyers, Emil?”

She reached into her handbag — and brought out a yellow leaflet. ‘Pile, pack or perch on it. Palette is a multi-purpose furniture module that serves as seat, shelf or table. $189.99.’

“We’ve got clients,” Linda told him.

“Can’t be journeymen forever, can we, Emil?”

“Congratulations,” he replied. “Going solo.”

Their employment at Diewick’s Furniture Systems was a dead end. Barry and Emil built mail-flow stations — vertical dividers with stop dado joints — for a living. Melamine interiors, finished backs, wall mounted or stacked. Work you could sleepwalk.

“That explains the silver?” said Emil, indicating Linda’s fingers and thumb — each ringed.

Her eyes shone.

“I took Barry to the mall to show him the jewelry I liked.”

Linda was the day’s yarn spinner.

“All different styles and price ranges,” she added, gravely.

“Wanting to be fair,” Barry explained, frowning at the restaurant bill.
“Christmas morning, I open my gifts,” Linda said, proffering her hands for Emil.

“All your choices?”

“Every one!” Linda cried out, unbuttoning her blouse. “And this.”

A seagull — imperial jade — on a glittering chain.

“Wow.”

Her blushing cleavage filled the room.

“Barry’s my man, ain’t y’love?”

He looked across at Emil.

“I owed her big time,” Barry confessed. “After that dinner I set up for Ios and Fernando.”

“I was mad, Emil,” Linda said, her expression again serious. “Sandra gave him a right bollocking too.”

“You didn’t say.”

“We never see you, Emil!” she scolded. “We wanted to face off like this, clear the air.”

It had taken Emil months.

“You wouldn’t meet,” Barry continued.

“My husband pokes his pecker in, Emil,” Linda said. “You know that. There’s an Irish leprechaun in him.”

“I’m sorry, Emil.”

Barry held out his palm.

“Make him pay with rings,” Linda chuckled, re-admiring her silver.

Emil stood up. “Let’s be going.”

How Canadian, he thought. We should be on daytime television.

Too easy. Trite. Cuts no quarter with me. Too Brampton Mall.

“You don’t deserve friends,” Linda cursed, pushing past Emil to the terrace. “I could slap your face.”

Emil followed her onto College Street — felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Any chance of a nip of whisky at your place?” whispered Barry. “Delicious pastry to cool her heels?”

That was not his concern.

Emil had heard enough, anyway, of Barry’s plans to retire early — “Once we’ve saved for a new roof and kept up Linda’s treats” — with mutual funds.

“Turkish coffee?” Emil asked, hoping they would decline.

“We’ve just had some.”

Emil didn’t pursue it.

His friendship began with Barry — and had become all about Linda. Emil and he talked carpentry, exhibitions; dreamt up Diewick trade missions to London’s Hoxton neighborhood and new ‘Brit-art’; sought a revolutionary design or two from Milan or New York.

Barry had disappeared into his wife. Cowering. No person left. No world his old pal wished to explore.

“Where did you park your car?” Emil said. “I’ll walk with you.”

“We might catch a flick,” Linda replied. “Not to waste the afternoon downtown.”

How many times do you run a scene before the penny drops?

Emil sits in his Parkdale apartment looking at the beech leaf that’s now a crinkled chip, strangely pliable.

Linn is setting the table for their Beijing feast. In his armchair, Seriously — green and yellow stuffed — has an eye on everything, paws in the air.

Emil delves into a stack of drawings.

He recalls the Rileys’ tinted window — falling. Barry saying something Emil cannot decipher above the engine; his ‘we’ll never get out of here’ comic look. Brushing everything aside. Linda pent up, flushed from breast to ear.

Snapshot of the afternoon.

No wonder Emil stood so long at the corner of Clinton and College. Fingering blunt teeth on a leaf’s wavy edge.

“I will make a lavita,” Emil tells Linn. “A Transylvanian peasant bed. Very basic, very sound.”

“For us?”

“Linda and Barry,” he replies. “The legs you plant in the ground. It needs a bench beside, so you can step up.”

“Reconciliation, is this?”

Emil flips through Romanian assignments he completed — or was still working on — since Buchenwald: wooden saddles, hand-propelled weeding tools, restored timber barns, Prince Charles’s grand four-posters.

This most fertile period of his life.

Carve pretty artifacts all you like Emil Toc. His voices come and go. The Rileys make amends and you are deaf.

“Come here, Linn,” he says, leaping up. “Grab this bloody thing.”

Emil holds out the beech leaf, now the texture of hide — tobacco shade.

“Tug!”

You don’t play the holocaust for excuses, Emil; tape your mouth shut, slam all doors. Saw wood.

He and Linn tug — and tug.

Linda and Barry deserve pardon for their weaknesses. And apology for yours. Not a bed.

“Twist it,” Linn says.

The cracker snaps — and Emil falls backwards, sending their monkey flying.

“Come eat!” Linn orders, discarding the scrag. “Here’s a moldy bedspread for your lavita.”

It lands, like a petal, amidst the lollipop furniture on Emil’s mantel.

“Crèche rug and a counterpane!” Emil declares, slinging his own bit of leaf onto the shelf. “A lepedeu with toothy trim, to sleep under.”

Linn looks doubtful.

“I’ll finish the bed by Three Kings Days,” Emil says enthusiastically, rescuing Seriously from beneath a chair. “Deliver it to the Rileys personally by rent-a-van on January 6th.”

“Queens take longer, I suppose?” Linn replies, tapping spoonfuls of rice into his bowl. “Not even Job would wait for you.”

This story will be in a forthcoming collection of short stories, You Turn Your Back to be published by Biblioasis (Canada) in 2009.

© 2008 Royston Tester. All rights reserved.

***

DREAMWalker Group topics related to this article:

Literature & Fiction Fiction Anthologies Mystery/Thrillers
Science Fiction & Fantasy Literary Community Literary Criticism Publishing Writers & Writing

GO TO INDEX

Classified: Help Offered / Help Wanted

Help Wanted

FOR A BOOK, Lynda Exley, ambassador, award-winning journalist and editor at the SanTan Sun News, is looking to interview traditionally published writers (not self-published) who were either published younger than 17 years old or they have an inspirational story to tell about how writing as a youth led them to their current writing career. Writes Lynda, "If any of your authors fit this bill and they are interested in being interviewed for the book I'm compiling, please have them email me a brief letter about themselves and include titles of published works." Lynda can be reached at Exlent@aol.com.

Help Offered

FREELANCE EDITING is just one forté of Catherine Groves. For more information about the freelance services of Christian*New Age Quarterly's owner and editor, please write to her at PO Box 276, Clifton, NJ 07015-0276.

GO TO INDEX