Dear Faithful Readers, Thank you for following along and reading my Irish mystery fiction books. My blog page, though, is something different. I recently participated in a Creative Nonfiction (CNF) workshop with Orla Tinsley, journalist for The Irish Times. What is CNF? CNF is a genre which includes memoir, essay, biography, and narrative history.…
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July 8, 1983 On July 8, 1983 I was a teacher at Lincoln School in Hawthorne, New Jersey where I taught Grammar, Spelling, and Composition to the sixth, seventh, and eight grade students. My summer project for the Hawthorne Board of Education involved rewriting the English curriculum for the elementary schools. On that Friday night, my…
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Date: Any summer, moonlit night Any summer night with a full moon and a cloudless sky, I took to the heavens with Bill, my soulmate. I felt my anticipation grow when we walked around 7095G’s airframe in our pre-flight ritual like two lovers coming together in a complicated dance. We moved in synchronicity – I…
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Dear Faithful Reader, here’s a creative nonfiction piece about how my life long love affair with the Schipperke breed started with fear (on my part). If you want to try writing a piece, the writing prompt for this is: describe your first pet. I look forward to your comments and why you love and remember…
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Dear Faithful Reader, here’s a creative nonfiction piece about the first concert I ever went to. If you have been following along and wish to try your hand at writing a creative nonfiction piece, the writing prompt for this is: write about experiencing your first concert. I look forward to your comments about my piece.…
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Dear Faithful Reader, I’m posting another short, short creative nonfiction piece. This piece involves my puppy, Turlough the Schipperke. The creative nonfiction question is: “Who would you be if you were who your dog thinks you are?” I hope you like what I’ve written; it’s a bit different for me. You can let me know…
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I’ve been looking for magic. On Monday evening, November 28, 2022 at approximately 6:35 p.m., my partner of thirty-nine years, George William Reichert, Jr., rested his left cheek onto the palm of my right hand and died. Just like that. He was gone. Six days before on November 22, my love, my Bill, as I…
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