Newcomer to our circle but not to the writing scene, Michael Gibb gathered with the gang for our monthly musefest. Michael has been writing trade articles for a decade and is now venturing into fiction and poetry.

Speaking of monthly, the question arose if there might be interest in following the example of many SCWW chapters in meeting more frequently. In some metro areas, you could be in a meeting every week. Be thinking of possible days, times and locations that would make it easy for more folks to participate.

Of those present at the meeting, eight made submissions to our SCWW Anthology, Catfish Stew. Keep an eye on the SCWW website for the announcement of category winners.

Robin Prince Monroe announced that her Trinity trilogy for children will be published by David C. Cook in February, 2005, and Phil Arnold's proposed article, "White Hair and Blue Suede Shoes," is in the hands of an Associate Editor at AARP Magazine. Great going, y'all! Write on!

Do we need to put a June Bug in your ear to get you out to our meeting at The Open Book, Thursday, June 3rd at 6:00 p.m.? By the way, there will be a full moon that night, so things might get hairy.

Robin Prince Monroe read the first chapter of The Silent Glades, a chapter book for middle school students. Nick, the main character is a hearing impaired teen. Robin needs to give us more information about Nick early on. Most of us thought the speaker was a female, and were unsure of the age. Give Nick more "guy" clues, speech, anger at being laughed at. When he has to look for Brandy, make it more like he is disgusted at being set up as a baby sitter for the missing five-year-old girl. Robin drew me into the story right away and I want to hear more. Writing from the perspective of a hearing impaired teenager is a wonderful way to make the rest of the teens aware of what the world is like for handicapped children. It can be an important book. Keep it up, Robin!

Newcomer M. D. Gibb read his poem, "American Politics." In the fifth verse we suggested he change, or clarify, the line, "yet it seems that only a color has joined us of today." Is it about the Green Party, and are there not other parties? We liked the line "Irritation like a fly on my neck." Put in a comma in the last verse after the third line and leave out the parentheses in the last verse. Scratch the last line "and say." Go right to the three "blows." I hope we haven't scared you away, Michael. We liked your writing and hope you come back. If you take it to a poetry slam, let us hear how you did!

Howard Lewis stopped by to read his latest creative venture, "What is success?" Howard successfully caused confusion to ricochet around the table like the metal marble in a pinball machine until the group sorted out that this piece was not from his novel but from his new self-help book. Once that was established, the consensus was that, although well written and entertaining, the piece lost focus on the definition of "success" due to its long passages and examples. People felt that if the points were given in list format it might force a better focus. The table thought more questions needed to be asked to draw in the reader such as: "How does this apply to me?" and "How can I define what I want?" The issue of Howard's credibility in the self-help sector was brought up as a possible publishing hindrance.

Fatz liked the whimsy in some of the examples but doesn't agree on the whole success idea. If the purpose of being successful is only to make you happy, why work so hard? Skip the middleman and be happy without it. As Sheryl Crow says: "It's not getting what you want, it's wanting what you've got."

We'd like to see more of Howard's work - if it would make him happy...

This month Faye Tollison shared "Uncle Sam, An American Icon," her submission for the July issue of Greenville Magazine. In her article, Faye explored the origin of Uncle Sam, "a well-known symbol of America's strength and determination." Researching this article turned out to be a difficult task, since she encountered a number of conflicting reports about Uncle Sam's creation.

The group found the article interesting, although there were questions about a Greenville-based magazine needing such an article. It was suggested that the editors may want some Greenville tie-in such as an Uncle Sam creator or cartoonist who visited or lived in Greenville. There were some comments regarding the organization of the article: the discussion of Samuel Wilson was interrupted by some paragraphs on Thomas Nast before returning to Wilson, making it a bit choppy and scattered. Folks also questioned the statement that Thomas Nast's "political cartoons moved public opinion to favor the North during the Civil War." They were not sure of the truth of the statement and felt that it was a sentiment that might not be embraced by a Southern magazine. It was also suggested that the title of the dictionary quoted in the beginning of the article be used rather than just calling it "the dictionary", since the more specifics given, the stronger the article will be.

Kami Kinard / Animal Poems

Kami Kinard continued her conversion of our die-hard poetry haters this week by sharing six great animal-theme poems written for kids. As usual, Kami was able to capture the essence of her subjects, from fleas to frogs, in a few short, humorous verses.

There were more questions about how birds build their nests and whether frogs are different from toads than there were criticisms. The use of more advanced words like "genuflect" was discussed, but Kami feels that one unknown word here and there helps the kids learn. Aside from the suggestions to switch the order of two words about the heron and to change the title of "Nest Building 101" to something familiar to a grade-schooler, the group was enthusiastic in their praise of her work. Keep 'em coming, Kami.

It was a pleasant change to hear Kevin Coyle's foray into short fiction with "Boys of Summer." He introduces us to Tony and Susan in the beginning, and then Bill and Mike in subsequent pages. We get a good sense of place, but as some of the female members of our group mentioned, there is little early on to make the reader care for the characters. It was suggested that Kevin try to establish tension earlier, to get us hooked. Another suggestion was to avoid reader confusion by dropping the references to Tiberius and Tom and Daisy. These nicknames for the central characters tell us a little about them, but they also slow down the story. Kevin was advised to make the ages of the characters clearer. After five pages we can't tell yet where the "Boys of Summer" is headed, but with Kevin's talent, wherever it goes will make interesting reading.

In her essay, "A Rock With Legs," Pat Stewart gives her husband's account of why he doesn't swim. In this first person narrative, Pat believably uses her husband's voice to recount his childhood misadventure with swimming lessons. We enjoyed Pat's use of humor as she retold this tale.

Some suggestions were made to clarify the paragraph where he looks around under water without his glasses. Other suggestions included deleting a few unneeded phrases and changing the first paragraph, perhaps moving it to the ending of the piece.

Surely your husband has some more cute stories Pat! We hope to read more of his childhood tales soon.

The latest installment of A Second Chance, the speculative fiction novel by John Migacz, sparked a heated debate during the last meeting, with this reviewer taking one position and just about everyone else who spoke out on the matter taking the other side. Let me take this opportunity to explain my concerns.

The scene in question involves the revenge fantasy-come-to-life of Jolly, the thirty-three-year-old construction worker who, after a terrible accident, wakes up in his six-year-old body with his adult memories and personality intact. While reliving a miserable time in an orphanage, Jolly beats senseless a ten-year-old bully named Billy, going so far as to crack him in the head with a weighty dictionary. I argued that Jolly had crossed the line. I didn't think it was plausible that Jolly would hold this decades-old grudge with so much vehemence that he would risk manslaughter. I was shouted down by quite a few people who apparently envy Jolly for his as-of-yet-unexplained ability to settle old scores that haven't even happened yet, temporally speaking.

What threw me were the following two lines leading up to the assault: "Jolly knew all about Billy's father and how he had abused Billy. He understood the boy's need to lash out; not only [to] protect himself but in some perverted way to become like his father." They say the first step to forgiveness is understanding. If that is so, given Jolly's 20/20 hindsight into Billy's motivations, I found it hard to accept that Jolly could terrorize him with such a clear conscience.

Maybe that was the point of the scene. Maybe Jolly is displaying the classic symptoms of a psychopathic killer who lacks the ability to empathize with his victims. If so, I didn't see it coming. Stronger character development would be needed in the preceding scenes so the reader might get a clue as to what to expect from Jolly.

On the other hand, maybe painting Jolly as a psychopath isn't the point of the scene at all. If that is the case, the two lines quoted above must go. Better to have Jolly ignorant of Billy's problems with his father so as to eliminate any reason for him to sympathize with Billy. Then we could all cheer Jolly on as he doles out his own special brand of justice to a big ol' bully who, as far as we know, deserves it.

Keeping Jolly in the dark would be more believable, anyway. Of all the bullies I've ever encountered, I can honestly say that I have no idea why they acted the way they did. How many children-especially someone like Jolly, who had own problems growing up-would care enough about Billy to ask him for his life story? The information about his abusive father is not likely something that Billy would share. I doubt that orphanages in the 1950s practiced group therapy.

Phil Arnold, well known for his dog tales, reveals in "Nappy Rules the Chair" a soft spot for the feline that shares his abode. Unfortunately said soft spot is his writing chair (as it is written: "If you want the best seat in the house, you'll have to move the cat."). Cat in the chair? No problem (so he thought). "She jumped at my arm and had bared claws / I've got the longest red streaks y'ever saw." Ooow! Sounds like our household beast, Lucy Fur, has a cousin.

While the gang found Phil's trial by fur entertaining, they did make a few suggestions, the first being a tetanus shot. In a couple of places the rhyme seemed forced, resulting in a bad meter reading. Rearranging a few words to make a different rhyme would fix things quicker than a vet with a sharp scalpel.

By the time I reached "the banjo," the circular cull-de-sac two doors up from my house I realized my right shoe had come untied. Punching my stopwatch, I knelt to tighten it. A pair of white Nikes padded up, quiet as a cat, and stood before me. The shapely legs led to orange shorts, a snug white tank top and a familiar face with glasses. "Urania?"

"Happy birthday," she said, with the joyful lilt of a jury foreman reading a verdict of guilty.

"Did the Hubble space telescope cause the bottom to drop out of terrestrial astronomy?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You appear to be moonlighting as a Hooters girl."

"Urato's idea of a birthday gift. She said she owed you."

"I am now her debtor. Let's go." I tapped my stopwatch again and started walking.

"Is this the best you can do? Let's jog at least."

"Can't," I said. "I've gone too many millions of miles already."

"Get real! You only started this 'morning mile' routine a few years ago."

"To many miles around old Sol. You of all people should understand that," I said. "Didn't expect to see you again after our last little interview."

"It's about time," she said, as if it explained everything.

"I didn't realize we had an appointment."

"We didn't. As you said, it's a celebration of your making another circuit around the....

Making my usual hard right at the last intersection on the block, we collided. I wrapped an arm around her waist to keep us from falling.

"Watch it! No touching, it's against the rules."

"Hooters or the Mt. Olympas Manual on Mingling with Mortals."

"Mine," she said. "Isn't that enough."

"Sorry." She gave me a severe look and started jogging up the hill. I followed and soon matched her pace.

"I thought you couldn't jog."

"Had to when I got caught in the rain last week. It didn't kill me. Perhaps all the exercise has turned back the clock a bit."

"A clock you can turn back; the calendar is unrelenting."

"Okay, so I'm 52. You've still got me beat by a millennia or two. But I must say, the eons have been kind."

"You're incorrigible," she said without malice.

"How did Erato talk you into that Hooters suit?"

"I'd owed her a favor for years. She's once got me an evening with Carl Sagan."

"Oh, baby! That sounds like hot date. Did he take you parking on Mt. Palomar?"

"Better than that," she said, a wistful smile on her face. "He was lecturing on the 'big bang' at Cornell."

"Did he venture to say who lit the fuse?"

"If you mean God, I'm sure he would disagree. Carl said, 'It is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring."

"And the Psalmist said, 'The fool says in his heart, "There is no God."'"

"Be kind!" She popped me on the arm. "He's dead."

"Then he isn't an atheist any more."

We climbed the hill by the pond. The sun squatted below the horizon and painted wispy clouds the color of cotton candy. "Take a right at the stop sign." We rounded the gazebo at the end of the cul-de-sac. The lawn sprinklers sputtered and spat to life. Startled, she clutched my arm.

"No touching," I said. "It's the rule."

"Yours?"

"My wife's."

We picked up the pace to dodge the spray intruding into the road. "You really cared about him, Carl Sagan, didn't you."

She looked straight ahead and spoke as though emotion were entirely foreign. "What if I did?"

"If I didn't know better, Urania, I'd say you were developing a heart."

"I've had a heart all along," she said. "I just guard it well."

We turned on to the main street toward the gate. I directed our steps to make a loop that would turn us toward home. "Are you afraid of loving someone?"

She shot me a cold glance. "How could you ever understand."

"It's that mortal/immortal thing, isn't it?"

"You make it sound so simple," she said. "As if only a syllable separated your kind from mine. But you get to have real lives, with real seasons."

I looked her up and down. "The eternal Spring of youth ain't doing you no harm, kid."

"I'll be the same a hundred years from now," she said. "How about you."

"Ah, yes. Probably a bit past my 'use by' date."

"You see? Life has depth and dimension for you because you won't always have it. You can look someone in the eye and say, 'Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be,' and even though it's not, you can comfort one another when the bad times come because it's an experience you both share."

"Please don't hate me because I'm mortal."

"What!?"

"Don't you see? You're jealous!"

She stopped in her tracks, sputtering like a fish out of water. "I'm...? Jealous...? Me...? She looked down at her hand toying with the hem of her tank-top. "Maybe you do understand."

She turned and walked slowly away. I walked behind, giving her some space. Gradually I drew alongside. "The road home turns left."

"For you," she said. "I have to go my own way."

I lifted the four finger Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

"You are incorrigible." She chuckled and counter signed with two fingers. "Peace."

Printed Matters is the newsletter of the Greenville Chapter, SCWW, which meets on the first Thursday of each month at 6:00 p.m. at The Open Book, 110 S Pleasantburg Drive, Greenville, SC.

Thanks to our contributing writers and news reporters: Pat Stewart, John Migacz, Marcia Migacz, Phil Arnold, Kami Kinard and Kevin Coyle.

Copyright 2004 by Leland Beaudrot, Editor. Contributing writers retain all rights to their work.