This year, I’ve been grateful to share support and inspiration with the wonderful Plume writing community. Our Season 2 Finale episode is a group reading, “A Plume Collage of Voices,” consisting of featured writers, roundtable panelists, and community members, which turned out beautifully. Check out the authentic, skillful writing gathered in this episode of Plume: A Writer’s Podcast, including short works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. I contributed my flash sci-fi story, “Inoculation,” published earlier this year in Daily Science Fiction. I really love the wide range of short works in this reading.
“A Plume Collage of Voices” features work by these excellent writers (pictured above, left to right): Samantha Tetangco, Melanie Unruh, Dawn Sperber, Cynthia Sylvester, Cynthia Patton, Elsa Valmadiano, Jameela Fay Dallis, Brenna Gomez, Cassie McClure, Arlaina Ash, Julia Halprin Jackson, Rhea Ramakrishnan, Nari Kirk, Suzanne Richardson, and Marlena Chertock.
You can find the episode on your favorite podcast app under Plume: A Writer’s Podcast, or listen here: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1204304/9598434-season-2-episode-14-a-plume-collage-of-voices. Learn more about Plume: A Writer’s Companion at plumeforwriters.org.
Wishing you good stories!
Have you heard about Plume yet? It’s a writer subscription service based in New Mexico that sends out monthly packages full of creative inspiration and encouragement to women writers. You should see their lovely packages and boxes, full of little surprises and treats. I’m the featured writer for December, and there are still a couple days left to place your order by November 30.
Interested? You can read an interview I did with them, here.
Go to Plume’s website to learn more about them, their inspiring mission, and how to order your December subscription! It’s a beautiful way to nurture your creative spirit.
This morning I discovered my backyard had become a crystal wonderland, and then I passed a crow in a tree meowing at the moon. A couple hours later, he was still at it, sharing his wintry secrets.
I was thinking of something else when I realized, O, was I hanging out with my dad last night in my dream? And then it seemed like his presence was recent, that connection we shared.
What was he saying?, I tried to recall.
The chorus of the song playing cut in then, and the timing was perfect enough to feel choreographed:
“And I can only say
that I have hoped for you
safety from fears and darkness.
Are you feeling better
It sounded like him at his best. The song is called “You Are the Light.”
I keep listening to it.
In my dream, I was telling the sad giant it was okay that he wasn’t a hard torrential rain like his brother, because even slow gentle rains like him can have the same effects if they last long enough. He was big and bald and crying in a motorcycle sidecar, but the thought that he could cause huge damage too made him tilt his shaved head and smile shyly.
Praying mantis on the screen outside my window, languorously cleaning herself — licking elbows to wipe around and across her ruby eyes, swiveling her triangular head — completely mesmerizes me, puts me in a spell as I observe for I don’t know how long, and then she tilts her head back to face me and we just watch each other. She tracks my movements in 20 degree shifts of her neck’s angle, and finally lifts a folded arm to lick her elbow and slowly, carefully continue preening the top of her head.