I pose the question, “What’s an anthology?” because I suspect some people may not know. For those who don’t , it is a book of stories, fiction or nonfiction, that have been compiled typically based on a theme, so that various writers can write to the theme.
I just have to share with you that two of my nonfiction writing pieces have been published in an anthology by the Story Circle Network this week. The Network is “by, for, and about women, where women become the authors of their lives. Women’s life stories matter. We’re committed to helping you tell yours.” For all women writers, I wholeheartedly recommend joining this talented and dedicated group of serious women writers.
The book, Real Women Write: Seeing Through their Eyes, can be found on Amazon. My two stories are “Paying to Pee” and “A Letter to our Insolent Server.” I had fun writing these two stories from my time spent in Mexico. They are self-reflective pieces of trying to be a better world citizen, though I fail at it more often than I want to admit.
The book cover of Seeing Through their Eyes is lovely with soulful stories written by women who are members of the Story Circle Network. The stories are insightful, redemptive, and inspiring. They are also short, life-narrative stories (2-3 pages long) based on the theme of empathy. This book would make a lovely gift for your girlfriends, sisters, moms, and daughters for Christmas.
I am proud to share the pages of these books with the other women writers from the Story Circle Network.
This blog post above by fellow writer, Helena Fairfax, has been wonderfully helpful to me in writing my novel set in India and on a ship in the Pacific and Indian oceans. As an example, I wrote a scene in the book of slaughtering a sea turtle for eating aboard ship after watching a YouTube by today’s Aboriginal Australians.
Read the scene below from my book in-progress, Salwar Kameez. I’ve added a few notes to the reader to be able to grasp who the characters are in the scene, because it is out of context for you.
For the last six months, my writing has been on hold. On July 20, 2017, I almost lost my left middle digit to a fungal infection that a doctor deadened and lanced. Two days later, it was black—dead, not simply bruised. Doctors’ cautionary comments did not use the word, amputation, but they hinted at it for a month.