True Life and Fiction

W ell, I think I've finally gone over the edge. Yes, I've found another typewriter that I just HAD TO HAVE. I must say though, that I think I just bought the best that Smith-Corona ever made. The only thing I can do now to improve my typewriter collection is to buy more of the same model in different colors ... although, I've kind of been eyeballing one of the old Corona 3 foldable typewriters lately. Here's my typecast from the latest typewriter in my collection: I also must leak some future news in the writing area. I think you'll like it, but you'll just have to wait until next month. I actually thought about writing some of my mystery/crime/suspense works in progress on this new typewriter but then thought about the lack of auto correct, and cut and past, and quickly squelched that idea before it could fester.

L ast weekend we went to the beach with our daughter and grandchildren. As usual, we spent an hour arguing about my driving ability and being lost for every ten minutes of enjoyment. It was a great time had by all. In fact, We're already talking about going again. Having not been to the beaches of Florida for some time, I realized we'd forgotten some basic knowledge about beach-going. So, in grand JL Stratton fashion, I must propagate my pedagogy to the world so that you may learn from my mistakes. First and foremost, if I could give you just one piece of advice, that would be: Wear sunscreen. Of course, this is followed my instruction that you should apply the sunscreen in places you would not think the rays of the sun might reach because, at the beach anyway, the sun seems to defy all physics and logical thinking to create sunburns in places one might previously thought of as "covered." Secondly: Bring a swim suit. I know. One would think this ...

This being my first venture into the world of participative blogging, I thought I'd start with a related subject area, and one I personally have quite an amount of trouble with ... where to begin. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that readers of my stories have (in not so many words) told me that I occasionally ramble along before getting to the meat of my prose. I know there is much advice out there about where one should begin a story but this advice is often much easier to read than to actually follow in deed. In Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland , this question is asked and answered as such: "Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop." This is fine advice that I often adhere to when beginning a new story, especially with a new character. I like to take a little time and burn a few thousand words finding out just who this character is and what the character is all about. Beginning a...

  A h yes, memory take me back to a time. Back to those days of my youth where innocence and sweet ignorance protected me as much as my kaleidoscope memory now blurs the edges and shields me from the pain in my past. Memories, funny things. My memories seem to change over the course of time, kind of how an ice cream cone gets that slick sheen just before it deforms and melts down the cone. Time has a way of smoothing the edges and refining what is kept, and what is lost. But, isn't that a good thing? I mean, who would want to remember all the bad times, all the pain given and received in the process of becoming an adult. I remember back to when I attended high school. Yes, a trying time for most, I'm sure. Some recent writing research forced me to remember those times. Not just the good times but all of them; some quite painful. I must admit that in my high school days, I was something of a fly on the wall. I didn't really belong to any particular group or cli...

If you ask folks who Helen Thomas was, most would simply shrug their shoulders and cast a blank stare. Helen Thomas had a larger impact on our world than most would understand. She was born in 1920 in Winchester, Kentucky. Her family moved to Detroit, Michigan when she was four years old where her father opened a grocery story. Her family came to America as immigrants from Lebanon, and neither of her parents spoke English upon landing at Ellis Island. Yes folks the story of Helen Thomas and her family is one of a true American-an immigrant family who contributed to our society. I'm sure that Helen will be missed by many. If you recall, I met Helen Thomas years ago while on a military mission.  I'll refresh your memory with this picture of me taken beside her inside a helicopter. Keep in mind that, when this picture was taken, Helen was 74 years old and still the most alert and energetic passenger. Although, I must say, she was not too keen on the idea of skirting acro...