Becky as Mrs. Wishy-Washy, Joy Cowley’s Delightful Character
I try not to dwell on the past, but I often enjoy thinking of my teaching years. I especially loved teaching reading, using books like Joy Cowley’s “Mrs. Wishy-Washy” stories. Many times, I’m able to effectively use my background in education to enrich both my writing and freelance editing work.
My editing projects sometimes involve non-fiction educational materials. And, of course, picture books provide an abundance of teachable scenarios. Blog articles I’ve written aimed at early childhood education have also been published, along with several decodable readers.
I’m happy to say that one of my fiction stories has recently been published, which combines reading instruction strategies with a fun fantasy setting. Click here to meet Mr. Zappo and his “buzzing letters.” He and Ms.Exeter are the early elementary teachers we each would have been lucky to meet while learning to read!
I was lucky to grow up in Tawas City, Michigan, near beautiful Lake Huron and the long point of land that forms Tawas Bay. The lighthouse at Tawas Point always fascinated me and felt somewhat mysterious. When I began planning a suspense story, that area seemed like the perfect setting!
In the summer of a 1960s vacationland, an encounter offers a tempting renewal of a bond from the past. My fictional tale, “Yours Till Moonlight Falls,” visits the dark side of human desire for connection. And I am happy to say it has found a publishing home at Mystery Tribune!
Click here to read the story. Is that the screech of gulls you hear, or could that be something else?
Happily, my balcony garden is growing well, especially that huge tomato plant! The trick here in Texas seems to be starting plenty early (mid-March) so the plants are well established before the overwhelming hot weather hits. I already have lots of little green cherry tomatoes. I enjoy reading out here!
I’m also pleased to report that my story “Shelf Life” now appears in the 7th edition of the U.P Reader (Modern History Press). In this twisted tale of revenge, a woman discovers some shocking news and proceeds to serve an unusual recipe to guests! I’ll have to wait a while to share that one with you. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll enjoy my story below, which was published last year and features a very different type of meal.
Dinner for Two
by Becky Ross Michael
Built at the advent of the twentieth century, the proud house on Tamarack Street keeps watch over the neighborhood. With a facelift of white paint and new porches, the home embraces the whispers, laughter, and tears of those who came before. Tulips and daffodils reappear like clockwork each spring, and perennial flower beds rebloom every summer. Each autumn, the maple leaves let go of life and flutter to the ground. And the inevitable snows blanket the dormant lawn and insulate the foundation every winter.
Within the walls, modern updates conceal remnants of faded papers in floral prints and musty wooden lath. Residues of past colognes and stale cooking aromas occasionally escape into the air to puzzle the present-day residents.
***
In the kitchen, snowflakes swirl beyond the windows as the man carefully constructs a multi-layered vegetable dish. No meat or dairy, as a nod to her favored eating trends. Together, they learned to cook by trying new recipes and ingredients in their remodeled kitchen.
A snowplow churns past the corner, throwing a wall of white.
He places the pan into the oven and sets a timer for one hour. Surely, she’ll come. It’s her birthday, after all. Taking a sip of white wine from his glass, he glances at the bottle of red set aside for the occasion. I hope she’s careful driving on these roads.
While cutting and chopping vegetables for a colorful salad, he thinks back to other birthdays. One year, he hired a string quartet to accompany their meal. For another, the two dressed in Victorian garb for the memorable occasion. The man chuckles aloud, thinking of a time early in their story. The beef Wellington had refused to bake beyond an overly rare pink. Maybe that led to her dislike of meat?
He checks the timer and savors the lovely smells filling the kitchen. Now to set the dining room table. He has purchased roses, not easy to find in the North during long winter months. I’ll wait to light the candles. While choosing some of their favorite music, the man rests on the sofa near the fireplace, enjoying the ghostly reflection of flames dancing on the surrounding tiles. With escalating winds outside, the old house creaks and sighs.
The sound of the timer startles him, and he moves back to the kitchen, switching the oven from bake to warm. As he reaches for the wineglass, the man notices the quickening beat of his heart and admits to feeling nervous after all these years. Things have been rocky between them, as of late, with more time spent apart than together. Hopefully, this evening will be a step in the right direction.
Seated at a small bistro table near the stove, he finally opens the saved bottle of red wine, noting her still-empty glass. The sky is now dark. Through the frosty window above the sink, he sees the revolving white lights of a snowplow as it cycles through the neighborhood. He peers at the clock and is at first surprised to admit she is late, worrying that dinner will turn dry.
The furnace clicks on, disrupting the stillness in the room and breathing a soft puff of air upon his neck. Suddenly, a new dread grabs hold of his mind. What if she’s hurt and needs me?
When he jumps to his feet, the man’s shoe catches on wrought iron. The chair topples on its side with a clatter and jars his senses. Only then does he remember that she is gone. There will be no more shared birthday dinners or plans for a renewed future. The rooms will remain silent and lonely. They had already said their final goodbyes without realizing the truth at the time. This life is the “empty after” he has always feared.
With tears of regret burning his eyes, he leaves the warmth behind and heads out for a cold winter’s walk. After the door is closed and latched, the house heaves a long moan of sorrow.
While living in Upper Michigan, I had the opportunity to observe some rather unusual wildlife, including foxes and black bears. At times, the experiences felt a little too close for comfort!
An early spring walk near a Lake Superior beach offered one such encounter. A face-to-face meeting with an indeterminate species brought about a rather humorous situation, which I recently chronicled in my short story, “Much Different Animal.” I’m happy to say that my tale now appears in the U.P. Reader Volume 4!
The book has stories and poetry by authors who live in the Upper Peninsula or who, like me, have ties to that beautiful area. I asked those interested in winning a copy of this book to let me know in the comments. Out of a shoebox, I drew Maria Donovan at Facts and Fictionas the slip for the lucky winner! Thanks to all who entered, and I’ll be sure to post the story as soon as the rights revert to me.
Finally, with the title of this post, I just couldn’t resist the following video:)
At the beginning of June, five decades will have passed since I graduated from high school. How in the heck did that happen? In some ways, this seems impossible, as if it was just yesterday. In other respects, this feels like lifetimes ago, and in a way, it was. I’ve experienced several different lives since then. I’m sure many of you have the same thoughts about the passage of time.
High School
After high school, I lived life in reverse order. Before attending college, I was married and started raising my two daughters. Together, the three of us “went away to school” after a divorce changed our lives. But the direction I began in my bachelor’s degree program wasn’t the same career I enjoyed until retirement!
Ready for our Big Move
My work life after college began in office administration. I was never crazy about my supervisory position, but years went by before I took the next leap. Becoming a teacher had always been my dream, but that hadn’t seemed like a solid choice when I first entered college.
Office Supervisor
The twisty path of life finally led to a career in teaching. I didn’t take a direct route and was certainly one of the older student teachers in my college class that semester. I’ve never regretted the decision to make that change and appreciated the support of my entire family. For me, teaching was a calling. Not without challenges, it was still the perfect career for my needs.
As ‘Mrs. Wishy-Washy’ at school one Halloween!
Now that I’m retired, my wide background is certainly an asset in my writing and pursuit of freelance projects. In fact, my non-fiction piece about career change appears in How I Switched Careers. This e-book is free for a few days, so I hope you’ll take a look!
In checking out the stories in this publication, it appears more common for people to switch FROM teaching to another career, instead of turning TO teaching, as in my case. To each their own…I loved it. Most of us enjoy a chance to tell parts of our life stories, and this type of project was a great opportunity for me to do that!
Another year, another critique group? I’m pleased to say that I’ve joined a third, forming a wonderful triad. How is this one different? In this case, writers gather twice a month, which doubles the motivation to produce. Situated in a smaller room, our number is capped at six. That means we all share something for feedback most times. Attendees don’t read their works aloud but do send pieces in advance through email. Instead of evenings, this half-dozen meets in the cool of the library while the Texas sun is still high in the sky.
Although several other members also belong to multiple groups, each combination develops its own personality. One gathering is specifically aimed at writers and illustrators of children’s literature, and the other two attract those who write for various levels. We critique novel chapters, stories, poetry, songs, memoir, and other types of non-fiction. Want to know more about queries, summaries, or elevator pitches? These are also presented and analyzed. Most importantly, not only do we assess possible improvements, but point out the positives of what’s working in each piece.
Beyond the share/feedback cycle, all three configurations circulate information about upcoming events of interest, in addition to facts about submissions for agents and publishers. We celebrate, praise, and console, since this calling involves both highs and lows. I find the camaraderie among people with different backgrounds who all share a love of writing to be so exhilarating, interesting AND comforting. When I first started my journey, I had no idea how important this activity would become. If you’re a writer or illustrator and haven’t yet found just the right spot, I hope that you’ll continue your quest!
Feel free to share in comments what you like best about your critique group or what you would look for in your search! ~Becky
FRISCO BOOK FEST: Fergal O’Donnell and Gary Thornberry (current and former presidents of Write Club); Becky Michael (founding member of Write 4 Kids)
For many years, I lived in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I wasn’t a native “Yooper,” however, and never heard of “Heikki Lunta” while living in the Lower Peninsula. In the past, people had come to the U.P. from many different countries to work in the copper mines. There’s still an especially recognizable Finnish influence in many areas.
Finland
When I first heard of Heikki Lunta, I assumed that it was a mythological Finnish goddess or god. I was on the right track, but not quite right. Ukko is a god of weather, and Vellamo is a goddess of storms. There was no supreme being specifically for snow, which seems surprising, given that’s such a snowy part of the world.
Fast forward to 1970. As the story goes, U.P. promoters for an upcoming snowmobile race were concerned because not much snow had yet fallen that winter. A record was aired on a local radio station in which the singers pleaded with “Heikki Lunta,” a snow god of sorts, to send more of the white stuff. The whole idea took off, or “snowballed,” you might say.
These days, businesses like this one on the right often put up signs asking that deity for more snow. By spring, there are sometimes signs asking him to stop! At least one town in the Upper Peninsula has named its yearly winter festival after Heikki Lunta.
What does all of this have to do with my story being published, you might ask. Now living in Texas, I’m struck with the fact that many of the children here (and sometimes the adults) wish dearly that it would snow!
A few winters back, we did get a pretty healthy dusting, here in the North Dallas suburbs. My two youngest granddaughters were thrilled, and my daughter let them stay home from school to play in the snow. That’s the day my idea for a meeting of reality and myth, in “Welcome to Texas, Heikki Lunta” was conceived. I’m thrilled to report that my fictional story for kids and families, alike, now appears in U.P. Reader #3.
Welcome to the first of the end of summer posts this weekend. There are three meals today, Brunch, Afternoon Tea and Dinner this evening… and tomorrow Sunday Lunch. I hope that you will be able to visit at least one during your day. […]
It began as one of those dreams where the setting and events that were unfolding seemed simultaneously familiar yet unfamiliar. Instead of watching the vision like a movie, I was taking part and looking out through the woman’s own eyes toward three children gathered around a kitchen table. A snowy scene beyond the window was as well-known to me as the back of my hand.
The mood was both comforting and uncomfortable. I started to waken, but willed myself to remain in that place. Every inch of the room was recognizable to me, as were some of the occupants. As I held onto the dream, I knew without a word being uttered what had happened to these people and what their futures held.
Next, I just needed to wake up and write the story!
Several years after that writing, the resulting short fiction, “Slip of the Lip,” now appears in the 2018 edition of the UPPAA’s anthology, the U.P. Reader. That publication is an intriguing mix of fiction, non-fiction, prose, poetry, and photography, with its roots planted firmly in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I’m proud to have my writing once again included, along with so many talented contributors.
The U.P. Reader, which includes my memoir piece, “Lonely Road,” is now available in print and e-book! This literary magazine is published by Modern History Press in conjunction with the Upper Peninsula Publishers and Authors Association (UPPAA). The publication also contains fiction, humor, poetry, history, and more.
When I read the call for submissions, my first instinct was to write a fictional story set in Michigan’s U.P., where I lived for many years. What about my own, personal tales, just waiting to be told? I decided that memoir was the way to go.
As Barbra Streisand sang in one of my favorite movies, “The Way We Were,” memories really can “light the corners” of our minds. But, when too much pain is caused by remembering, we often choose to ignore and wall-off those sections of our brains. Writing memoir can be like taking the partitions down and letting the light shine, once again, onto those remembrances. The act can bring questions, heartache, revelations and healing.
“Lonely Road” relates an evocative experience during my wintertime move to the Upper Peninsula, with the purpose of giving a faltering marriage one more try. The story is also a metaphor for the journey of life, with its pleasant surprises, difficult challenges, and safe havens. That “one more try” to stay together spanned several additional decades. Success or failure? Guess it depends on how you look at it. This was a very difficult piece for me to write because of all the emotions to which it gave rise. I would like to say that I felt better once I had it down. Saying it well and true did give me a sense of satisfaction. The sadness over our loss still remains.
I hope that you’ll consider reading about my experience, along with sampling contributions from other writers with connections to the Upper Peninsula, in the beautiful state of Michigan. The book is available from the publisher, through Amazon, and at several retailers in the U.P. Reviews are welcomed!
GARDEN UPDATE
The Community Garden is looking quite bountiful these days! Cucumbers and zucchini are already producing. Today, I also spotted tiny green peppers and tomatoes. Giant sunflowers provide a lovely backdrop. My little plot contains huge marigolds and abundant basil. I’ve already taken several bags of the herb over to the food pantry. Basil is great in curries and salads. Pesto, anyone?
The rosemary is a bit on the small side, and I’m afraid the watering that’s helping the basil thrive may be somewhat of a negative for those plants, which often prefer drier conditions. They’re growing, though, and I snipped the ends to encourage even more growth. Did my molasses and orange oil concoction succeed in the fight against the fire ants? Yes and no. It worked well enough to drive them over to the other side of the little garden bed. At least they stay off the plants!
It began as one of those dreams where the setting and events that were unfolding seemed simultaneously familiar yet unfamiliar. Instead of watching the vision like a movie, I was taking part and looking out through the woman’s own eyes toward three children gathered around a kitchen table. A snowy scene beyond the window was as well-known to me as the back of my hand.
Platform Number 4 