At our July meeting, we were treated to a little something extra from John & Marcia Migacz: garden goodies. These were greeted with great reviews all around. Thanks, y'all! Nancy Parker showed a copy of Dick Taylor's recently published memoir Prodigals - A Viet Nam Story. Dick was a member of the Greenville chapter before moving out of state. Pat Stewart has material for another essay; she won a tee-shirt and a couple of Crystal hamburgers on opening day of their new restaurant. Phil Arnold showed off his scrapbook of articles from Elvis International Magazine. At President Phil's request, Nancy reminded us of the ground rules of good critiquing etiquette before we launched the evening's readings.

As agreed in our July 1st meeting, we gathered on July 20th for the first of our new third Tuesday meetings. We had six readers, including Roger Meadows from Spartanburg. Roger is new to our group but not new to writing. Hope to see you again, Roger!

The 14th Annual SCWW Writers Conference will be held October 15-17, 2004 at Ocean Creek Plantation Resort, Myrtle Beach, SC. Confirmed faculty include:
Keynote Speaker: Robert Olen Butler has published eleven books since 1981, nine novels and two volumes of short fiction, including 1993 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, "A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain."
Chuck Adams, VP and Senior Editor at Simon and Schuster Publishing.
Martin Barnard, Senior Acquisitions Editor/Human Kinetics
Faye Bender, Literary Agent, Anderson Grinberg Literary Management
Sonny Brewer, Author/Editor/Bookseller
Elizabeth Dewberry, Author
Hallie Ephron, Mystery Writer of the Peter Zak series for St. Martin's
Colin Fox, Editor, Warner Books
Holly McClure, Agent and Principle with Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency
Duncan Murrell, Editor
Alan Nevins, Film and Literary Agent with Firm Books
Susan Page, Self-Help Author and Writing Coach (http://www.susanpage.com)
Kelley Ragland, Editor, St. Martin's Press
Sharon Spence Lieb, Author
Marjory Wentworth, Poetry/South Carolina Poet Laureate
Kathie Fong Yoneda, Talk Story Productions

For details, schedule, accommodations and registration fees, see the SCWW website: http://www.scwriters.com/2004%20Conf.htm

The University of South Carolina's Writing Center, The Poetry Initiative, and The Columbia Writers' Alliance are pleased to announce the SC State Wide Writer's Conference 2004 to be held on the campus of USC at Gambrell Hall, August 6th and 7th. Additional details on hotel accommodations, featured authors, fees, and the itinerary can be found at the Columbia Writers' Alliance website: http://www.colawriters.com/

SCWW is offering a one day workshop featuring Mindy Friddle, author of The Garden Angel, Saturday, August 14, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. at the Cayce-West Columbia Branch, Lexington County Library, 1500 Augusta Road, West Columbia, SC. The workshop is free and open to the public, but registration is required. E-mail vasseyws@hotmail.com or write SCWW, PO Box 7104, Columbia SC 29202.

We're all looking for an august revelation at our meeting Thursday, August 5th at 6:00 p.m. at The Open Book. And don't forget our second chance to write it right on the third Tuesday, August 17th, 6:00 p.m. at The Open Book.

Pat Stewart once again wowed the crowd with her essay, "Lies, Liars, and the People Who Tell Them." I think each and everyone was able to relate to her essay on how telemarketers turned her into a liar. The group did suggest it would be beneficial to shorten the title. The use of "credit cards, better windows, gutters, carpet cleaning, and burglar alarms" was overused. Try changing some of these to something else for variety. Hats off to Pat. She will certainly go to heaven for giving us so much laughter in our lives.

Kevin Coyle finished reading his short story the "Boys of Summer." Kevin successfully pureed the Great Gatsby and the The Sun Also Rises into a modern mini-drama that was (in Fatz's opinion) better written than either of those "classics."
Kevin's skillful handling of the storyline and his use of real-life dialogue produced uniquely voiced main characters that created a very three dimensional story.
In this last section, we finally found out why Bill was acting like such a butthead - Bill is gay and mad at Tony for not becoming his roommate in college. Bill had the hots for Tony, but Tony never noticed.
Although Kevin presented Bill as an outwardly straight guy, the group felt that Bill needed to be painted even more macho and athletic. The idea was raised that Kevin should make Bill's anger more intense and clarify the reason behind it. Possibly more interaction between Bill and Tony might clear up the haziness.
Unfortunately, most of Kevin's literary devices, innuendos and hints flew so high over Fatz's head their contrails weren't visible without binoculars and a pointing finger. But, as Shakespeare so aptly said, "just 'cause Fatz don't get it don't mean it ain't good."
Kevin is an excellent writer with a literary bent that would please any college literature professor, but Fatz would like to see something that is a little more low-brow from him. ...Say, like somebody skipping allusion to settle an argument and instead use a 2x4.

Robin Prince Monroe read a revised chapter one of her book, Ralph and Louie. Robin began this book in 1995 as a picture book for young children. She has read us versions of this book at previous meetings. She has made shoes a subject of a clever story.
Robin now has changed the format to a chapter book, one for children, ages 6-8. Ralph and Louie are Amy's tennis shoes who realize that they are being replaced. One suggestion was to use a different word for "tennis" shoes, sneakers, for example.
I read the story to my seven-year-old grandson Jackson and his mother Melanie. Melanie had an interesting comment that might help Robin target her audience. Jackson wasn't too interested in the story about girls' shoes.
Melanie said that her three-year-old Emily was more like Amy in the story. A girl would have different shoes for school, church, play, etc. Emily has a variety of shoes, but Jackson wears the same shoes for all occasions, even though he has ones for school, church, etc.
I like the story and hope Robin finishes it so I can get Emily a copy even though she isn't ready to read a chapter book yet.

"Time Independence" by John Migacz

John's piece "Time Independence" was particularly appropriate for our near fourth meeting. We enjoyed this story of time travel and all felt that, with a little tweaking, John should be able to find a publishing home for it by next year's Independence Day.
The imagery is nice (truant boy) and the whole premise is really neat. A couple of suggestions for improvement included: Try not using so many "I..." sentences. Some of us weren't clear about the PC police. We're not sure the tense change at the end works. And lastly, since the Declaration of Independence was written in Philadelphia we wondered if a change of setting might add even more "oomph" to the story.
All in all the consensus was, it is only a matter of "time" before we'll see this one in print.

Let me apologize in advance. I never thought I would write a review that is longer that the work itself, but here it is.
The group was delighted to hear Faye Tollison read the first chapter of her murder mystery, We the Jury. It was as taunt and tight as it was short, that is to say, very! At one page (double spaced), Ms. Tollison had us on the edge of our seats. We were astounded as this mild-mannered young lady thrilled us with her did I mention, short and terse opening scene.
Everyone seemed to agree that the paucity of words and the graphic detail made this an opening to remember. Everyone knows how important it is to hook the reader early, or run the risk of losing them altogether and Ms. Tollison certainly accomplished that. We were all hooked; at least those of us who like murder mysteries.
Ms. Tollison was concerned that more background needed to be presented in the first chapter. She also wanted our opinion as to whether the reader needed to know the reason for the murder up front. The group responded unanimously with a resounding no to both. So long as both are handled later it is no problem. Some said that we don t need to be told why in the beginning, we just need a reason to keep reading and as I said, this was accomplished. That was a nice twist at the end.
It was suggested, on the other hand that the passive tense was overused in the action scene. It was also suggested that the author consider establishing the state of mind of the murder, as opposed to the motivation (which will be brought out later according to Ms. Tollison).
There was an animated discussion about the relative merits of stabbing versus slashing, and swinging versus lunging. Ms. Tollison was encouraged to expanded the scene even further by engaging the other senses. For example, let hear a thump as the body hits the floor.
My only question at this point is whether it is too early to start making comparisons with Alfred Hitchcock? We hope you keep writing so we can find out.

Alas, last month was a sad, shameful time for the Cosmic Burghermeister. He missed the deadline for filing his review of a selection from The Shadows of Midnight, a novel by Ray Lewis. Whether "Cossy B," as this craic addict is known to his friends, was off saving the galaxy from the Tralfamadorian hordes or merely suffering the devastating effects of an ill-advised Wookie burrito, such excuses are as transparent as they are pathetic. Mea culpa, mea culpa.
Ah, but the universe has a way of righting the wrongs that we mortals commit. As it happens, this reviewer has spun the Wheel of If and the needle once again points to Ray. So as to make up for my ineptitude of the previous moon, my review will encompass what was submitted on both occasions.
The Shadows of Midnight tells the tale of Peter, a young boy who attends Dream School, where he learns how to use his special gifts to navigate the world of our dreams. Comparisons to similar works, in both the fantasy and science-fiction genres, immediately come to mind. Admittedly, this reviewer has not read any of J.K. Rowling's tomes, primarily because they are so thick and full of words. Nevertheless, I have read Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card, and I'd say the same thing about this SF "classic" as I would about Ray's book: the young protagonist does not sound like a kid.
No matter how intelligent and well-spoken a child might be, he or she will still lack the experience and emotional maturity to carry on a lengthy conversation about "difficult" topics without doing all those things kids do. Try listening to a child speak, even a smart one. Around peers, children will slip into slang that is nonsensical to adult ears, have fits of emotional exuberance (whether giggles or sobs), tell fart jokes, and otherwise act silly. Around adults, they will avoid eye contact and lapse into uncomfortable silences. This is how they deal with troubling issues, even ones they fully understand. An oversimplification, maybe, but not entirely inaccurate.
Another potential problem is distinguishing Ray's book from the earlier, successful books cited above. At this stage, in which we've seen only snippets from random parts of the story not necessarily in chronological order, it is hard to say. Hopefully, differences will become apparent as we read further.

In the starlit, moonless night, I trudged down the hill on my voluntary mission: a quarterly fortnight of clubhouse lockup duty. Though I rarely partook of its amenities-a pool, great-room, library and game room-taking responsibility for them from time to time gave me a since of ownership in our gated retirement community. Flashlight in hand, I entered through the exercise room and out its side door to the pool.

"Hello," said a young face looking up at me from pool side.

"Oh! Hi! I don't usually find anyone here at night." She was clearly decades too young to be a resident. "You have family here?"

She rested her arms on the verge. "Only you."

"Me?" I gotta start going to those family reunions. "I don't think we've ever even met."

"You have forgotten me." She rested her chin on her arms and pouted. "Yet you found it easy enough to bring me into the world."

"Now wait a minute, young lady," I fumed at the accusation. "I know perfectly well I don't have any kids."

She extended a hand to touch the scuffed toe of my shoe and looked up. "I am the product of your pen."

At once I knew her; The Nymph of Reedy Falls Park. "Chrysanthemum! What are you doing here?"

She playfully snatched my shoelace untied and giggled. "Wherever you are, I cannot be far away."

I stepped back and knelt to tie my shoe. "Guess things have been a mess at your place lately."

She sighed. "So many construction workers, so little time."

"Is that why it's taking so long to get the Liberty Bridge finished?"

Giggling, she flicked water at my face with her finger.

I stood and turned to the door. "I've got to finish locking up. You can go out through the gate," I said, though I doubted that such things mattered to a mythological immortal.

Back inside the clubhouse, I locked the pool side doors, walked into the great-room and found two young ladies lounging on the sofa watching Ellen Degeneres on the big screen TV. "Excuse me, ladies. It's lock up time."

"Yeah, yeah," said the one with short, dark, spiky hair, offering me a single finger salute with a tattooed hand.

"Hi!" chirped the blonde by her side. "Long time, no see."

Uh-oh! They looked familiar.

"Don't you remember us? We're Candi and Sal from 'Fairy Play,'" said Candi, the bubbly blonde.

"Yeah, the play, or Stacy and Abbie from "Fairy Play" the short story," injected Sal. "Neither of which you bothered to finish or publish."

"I remember. You girls were roommates...."

"Still are," said Sal. "In fact we're Domestic Partners."

"Oh!"

"That's the name of our business," added Candi. "We do house cleaning together."

"While you're in school, college now, I guess?"

"Dropped out," said Sal. "And it's all your fault."

"Me!?" I knew locking up the clubhouse was a responsibility, but I never imagined it made me responsible for everything. "How is this my fault? I never wrote anything about y'all dropping out."

"Exactly!" said Sal, looking me in the eye for the first time.

Candi sighed. "Without your input, we kind of lost motivation."

"Not entirely," I said. "You seem to have lost a bit of weight, Candi. You're looking good."

"It's the glow." She smiled and stroked the still round bulge of her tummy with manifest pride. "I'm pregnant!"

"Pregnant! But.... How?... Who?"

"Hey, don't look at me!" said Sal. "Who do you think, Mr. Amateur-at-prose?"

"Now look! I had nothing to do with...."

"Dexter," said Candi and Sal together, though not with the same tone.

"Ah, of course," I said. "And where is the to-be-dad lad?"

"Iraq!" said Sal.

"Oh, no! National Guard?"

"Freelance journalist," said Candi. "He wanted to break into the business big, so...."

"So when he got her pregnant, the little twit skipped town. Men!" Sal snorted and turning back to the TV.

I left the girls to complete my duties before the fact/fiction continuum got any more twisted. In the library I found another young lady perusing the shelves.

"I don't seem to find any of your works here," she said.

What is this? Ladies night? "I haven't published a novel yet, though I did get a short story into the SCWW anthology, Catfish Stew, and a few others have been published various places."

She picked up a tattered tabloid. "Do you recall your first one?"

"Of course! My first try was published, errors and all, in The Color Green."

She opened the paper, scanned a page and read, "As she turned to leave, she paused and said, 'I'm Gabrielle.'"

As if scales fell from my eyes, I realized.... "Yes, you are! What are you doing here."

"You made me a guardian angel," she said. "Does that give you a clue?"

"Yes, I did. But since then I've realized that the Bible never mentions female angels. Chalk up one more factual error in my first work of fiction."

"Too bad," she said. "Looks like you're going to need one."

A pair of moist, slender arms snaked around my chest. "Ummm.... You've been working out."

"Chrysanthemum, I am not your towel. Get back to the pool."

"Come join me," she whispered humidly in my ear.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I don't even know how to swim."

She embraced me tenderly as a python. "Who said anything about swimming?"

"Uh, Gabrielle," I said. "Could you give me a hand here?"

"I'd love to." She dropped the paper into the recycle bin. "But I'm not a guardian angel. Remember?"

Chrysanthemum's Heimlich hug threatened to squeeze the resistance out of me. "Okay, okay! Rewrite! You're still an angle. Now please dispatch this demon damsel."

"We're not allowed to exercise brute force," she said. "You'll have to 'use the force' yourself."

"The force?"

"The faith, then." She picked a Bible from the shelf, opened it and flipped through its latter pages. "Now... let me see... what was it Paul said...?"

Chrysanthemum pulled me toward the door. I extended my hands and grabbed the frame. "How 'bout some speed reading! Quick!"

Gabrielle fingered a passage. "Ah! Here it is! 2 Corinthians 10:5, 'We take captive every thought.'"

"We take captive every thought... We take captive every thought..." Chanting Paul's words like a mantra, I painted pleasant pictures in my mind: a wooded glade, a quiet stream, three young friends from the Governor's School for the Arts and the mischievous Nymph who stirs their world. The stage set, I only needed the characters to people it. I concentrated. "We take captive every thought... We take captive every thought..."

Chrysanthemum moaned like an Autumn wind, her grip began to melt like wax before flame. The moan became a wail and the wail a Banshee screech. In my mind I saw two girls fashioning fairy wings of wire and paper, and a boy in the thrall of an immortal temptress. Silence. I caught my breath and turned around. Alone.

Walking home, the video of story still playing in my head, I knew what I had to do. I had go give my people structure and purpose, a home. At the computer I burrowed down to a forgotten file and set to work on the long neglected rewrite.

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: Faye Tollison, John Migacz, Pat Stewart, Robin Prince Monroe, Ray Lewis and Kevin Coyle.

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