When Your Own Writing Spooks You

Clean the basement. That’s how you find pieces of writing you never remember writing. I found one, and am going to throw it away. It isn’t bad as much as it is strange. In 2008 I took a stream-of-consciousness writing class and here’s what came out of it. It doesn’t sound like me, then or now. I think I’ve decided that stream-of-consciousness writing, or writing whatever comes into your head, is unsafe and possibly useless. Or brilliant. I don’t know.

We give away our thanks to the earth. We give away our all to the earth. The earth has given to us and we continue a mutual exchange, a give and take, a flow as constant as the wind that whips around the world, the streams that flow from high to low.

We stand in circles, we are circles, we are circles like the earth. We worship the earth and the earth worships us. We are its father and it is our mother. We hold each other, we embrace, we cling in the every circling dance of life…of generation…of reproduction, flow, breath, magic and source.

We are all one, and one is all us. Together we were the earth, we are the earth, and we will become the earth. We are united.

Togetherness. Wonder. Exhilaration. Breathe in and out and feel your gravity, your orbit, your rotation, your movement, your ever-changing face.

We bring you life—we take it.

We love live—love lives us.

We are we are we are earth.

Earth is us and all are saved. Saved from the burgeoning definitions, the warps, the mirrored perceptions that mean nothing, the desires that cloud us, the reverb that shakes us, the blocks that wear on us.

We want the magic of life and do not know we already have it. We want to grab the building blocks of life and they are already in our hands.



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Cracked Open

You can see I haven’t been the most regular blogger here. But I had a reason for pausing lately. On October 22, 2015, my 22-year-old son was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Seven months later he passed away, after fighting hard and being brave.

I am not the same person and never will be. I have been blogging, but not on WordPress. The latest pieces appear on Medium.com. The blog titles are duplicates or derivative of book titles. These pieces are unlike anything I’ve ever written. I invite you to delve in.

A Series of Unfortunate Accidents – a variation of the Lemony Snicket title. Maybe I should have used the true last word of the title, “Events,” because the odd things in this story certainly were not accidents–they were warnings.

Just Tell Me What You Want – a novel by Jay Presson Allen. I never read Allen’s book but always thought the title was alluring in a Jacqueline Susann way. And the title fits for my piece. I was going to use the term “Grief Vampires,” but my psychic was no user. What she knew still gives me chills.

What to Suspect When You’re Expecting is obviously from the bestseller with Expect as the third word in the title. This is the only funny story on Medium.com at present, and is  about my “Jewish son.”

Life as We Knew is a book on my list for one of the top five young adult novels of all time. But I’m skewed here. Max discovered this novel & it has since become one of my favorites. I was re-reading it when he was very sick, toward the end. Perhaps this title is my new leitmotif.

The Son of Someone Famous is the exact title of a novel by M.E. Kerr, a fav YA novelist of mine. She was more popular some years ago. This is a provocative title befitting today’s clickbait society; Kerr was prophetic. Max was not the son of someone famous; had he lived I would likely be the father of someone famous, though.

Across Two Aprils is a variation of Across Five Aprils, a title by I remember seeing a hundred times in my high school library. I intended for this to be my first-ever piece for Medium and held others I’d written until this was done. I thought the contrast between 2 Saturday mornings 50 years apart was amazing.

Thank you for reading any of my pieces on Medium. Grief cracked me open like a coconut and out poured my most heartfelt writing. That is another great gift Max left me.

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Angst. Just your general angst.

I know writing is not supposed to be fun.

I know it is not necessarily supposed to be hard.

I know it can work well as you get into the “flow” and time and space disappear beneath the rapid-fire sequence of scenes forming in your brain and flying from your fingertips onto the keyboard that is clacking like a skeleton’s fingers on an unstringed piano.

That doesn’t make it any prettier.

Here is a perfect illustration of how a fiction writer thinks other people look at him: 




Yeah. That’s what it feels like too.

Here is what happens when you have a regular life: you don’t get enough fiction writing done, and your imagination decides to go into overdrive. This is also what happens if you have the luxury of writing fiction without much impediment, but take time off or can’t write for a few days.


Stomach ache? Or a TAPEWORM?

Was that thunder? Or a NUCLEAR BOMB?




You get it. The only way to dampen down the flames of imagination is by writing. And the longer period of time you’ve written fiction, it just gets worse. Even if you publish little to nothing, your mind already has taken control. You will drain its overenergy, or it will plague you. Make a choice.

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I’m Embarrassed to Admit I’m In Love With This Book

And it’s not even a new one.

Let me start by admitting I feel guilty when I re-read a book. I mean, there are so many zillions of books out there I want to read. I’m intimidated that I’m so greedy about what I want to read. I quickly opt out of books that don’t hold my interest after a while. And that “while” patience-span keeps narrowing. I even gave up reading Joyce Carol Oates because her output passed my tolerance. After all, if you can write faster than I can even read, I don’t have a chance.

Out with it: the book is The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie by Wendy McClure.

The 1st time I read it was because, well, it was the first time and the book was greedily consumed like a bowl of popcorn.

The second time was after reading Pioneer Girl by Pamela Smith Hill. That somber tome virtually ripped the petticoats off Laura Ingalls Wilder with its icon-melting secrets. I had to revisit McClure’s softer realizations to wash away the grime of Pioneer Girl. It’s one thing to learn Laura Ingalls Wilder left out a whole chunk of two sad years of her childhood, as McClure found. It’s quite another to hear that Pa might have been a drinker and some man set himself on fire practically in front of Laura, along with the fact that Laura’s iconic Little House “books” were derived from a single amateurish first draft, with the lion’s share of her iconic books written by her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane.

My current round of reading The Wilder Life is to once again languish in the college-weekend feeling of the narrative, laughing at McClure’s efforts to “do Prairie” by churning butter and visiting the Laura Ingalls Wilder shrines. It also has a road-trip flair, as you journey with Wendy and her man Chris. They feel like your fun, intelligent friends who sip hard cider with you, making Twitter-worthy remarks about culture’s quirks. McClure throws dignity out of her Chicago apartment window and admits such deep research as watching “Little House” TV reruns and liking cheesy YouTube videos honoring Laura Ingalls Wilder. It’s a little bit like admitting you sneak a flask in your pocket for the AA meeting. McClure has reverence for the impact of Laura-induced sentimentality, but can stand back a bit further and see how cockeyed some fans have gotten.

This time reading McClure’s book, her juicyfruit salad of language comes into clearer focus. In earlier readings, how did I not notice her Jenga’d adjectives? Her (perfect) definition of who Laura Ingalls Wilder has become: a historical literary figure character person idea grandma-girl-thing.

McClure isn’t your history teacher, here to instruct you about life on the prairie. This is your sassy friend who’s gossiping–albeit with superior language skills and stand-up-comic quality delivery–about “Laura World.” This world, expected to be a rose garden, kinda smells like a trailer park.

Nuggets of Laura World: There is a guy in Minneapolis who thinks Laura Ingalls Wilder is God. The town of Little House in the Big Woods, Pepin, Wisconsin, has its own Loch Ness type monster named “Pepie.” Adult women in prairie dresses and sunbonnets pretend they’re Laura. People cry when they first visit the historical sites. There is even Laurapalooza, a benign town festival with no rock music and somber historians quibbling quietly over who-cares details of life in 1880 while picnicking on ham salad sandwiches. DeSmet, South Dakota, as it turns out, is a bit like the Roswell of the north. Full of tourist crap and devoted weirdos.

It’s rare, a book that can make you want to go there and stay away at the same time.

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How I Develop a Recipe

NOTE: This is not my usual post about fiction writing, but about recipe development and food blogging–another form of writing I love. I have a blog with my family history stories and recipes on Grit.com – Country Cooking. This is being simultaneously published with Grit.com.

If you’re an avid cook you’ve probably made up your own recipes, then tried to duplicate them, and find you can’t! Or maybe your cooking is good enough that others want your recipes. Either way, it’s time to start developing your own recipes in written form.

One, Two

First, two key points. The first should be obvious, the second might not.

1. If you find a recipe you like and change one ingredient, you really haven’t developed a new recipe. There are copyright battles about this, and it’s hard for anyone to claim a recipe that is exclusively theirs. But have integrity and come up with something that really is yours.

2. You don’t have to start every ingredient from scratch. You can review other recipes and create your own version. The trick is to use similar recipes from a variety of sources, and create a recipe that is notably different from the others.

People think I have hundreds of cookbooks, but actually I only have 106 (at present). Since I’m interested in rural cooking, culinary history, and side dishes, I’m selective about what cookbooks I buy. Almost all of them are out-of-print or rare cookbooks. As a result, I have some recipes that are unusable. For instance, I have an entire book on how to make aspics and vegetable salads with gelatin. In this era, people really don’t want to eat those.

I write in most of my cookbooks. I’m not going to re-sell them and I want to keep notes on when I made it, how it turned out, and flag any steps that seem wrong. For the last reason, I almost never use “community cookbooks,” which are not vetted by editors. I have two – one that includes a recipe from my mom, and another that includes a recipe from my “great aunt” Georgia Ruth.Yes, commuOld cookbooksnity cookbooks are fine for fundraisers, but are a very general set of recipes and often contain mistakes and omissions.

When I start with an interesting idea I’ve seen in a cookbook, I find similar recipes in other cookbooks and compare. There is a crucial first step here in developing a recipe, even if you are starting from a recipe in your own mind.

That step is “editorial testing.” Read through the recipe and ask if it makes sense or if there is something missing – just like you should do before you try a new recipe.

Editorial Testing

1. Are any ingredients vague? What is a “box” of gelatin? At least one major brand has two sizes. While a “pinch” of something usually won’t throw off a recipe and can be understood, other simple-sounding ingredients could derail the cook. A “cup of green beans” could be a cup of canned green beans, or a cup of raw green beans. If the recipe doesn’t simmer for a long time, that makes a huge difference. Also, think about how a cook who is not your age would interpret your ingredient. Since I’m not a spring chicken, a recipe that calls for “gelatin” to me would mean powdered gelatin. A college-age cook might think it means a plastic container of pre-made “snack pack” type gelatin.

2. Does it have one or more highly unusual ingredients? Some cooks cannot find the same ingredients you can. Often I find myself wanting to include an ingredient like kimchi or banana leaves, then I remember people from Grandma Hamilton’s small town could not get those unless they drove over an hour to a city grocery store. That points to the next step.

3. Who is your audience? Are you writing your favorite recipes for your children? Fine, they know you and likely can interpret some things. Since I write about rural Midwest cooking and publish my recipes, I avoid unusual and foreign food ingredients. In some places – and you might have foreign readers if you’re a food blogger – some ingredients are not available or understood. Could you add vegemite or arepa?

4. Be suspicious if a brand name is used. There are many recipes out there from food companies. Does your recipe call for “Bisquick”? I don’t use Bisquick. It’s easily combined from homemade ingredients – flour, baking powder, salt and oil or butter. Does the recipe suggest adding “Country Crock” for margarine? People tend to substitute, and butter is quite different from margarine. Why use a box of “Duncan Hines cake mix”? Why isn’t another brand OK? Make your ingredients as broad and basic as possible.

5. Are all amounts, containers and temperatures specified? Some old family recipes do not have a baking temperature. Everything seems to have been cooked at 350 F or was made on a wood-burning cookstove. To fine-tune more, do your instructions make sense in the order they are cooked? If you assemble most of one dish, then list a sauce that must be simmered for hours to go with it, start with the part that will take the most time. What is a “loaf pan”? There are at least five sizes. The ingredients should be in order and logical.

I start with a written rough draft, and make notes on it while I cook, such as “the batter will be thin.” Often I consult my go-to cooking book, Keys to Good Cooking by Harold McGee. I have read this cover to cover, highlighted the “good parts” that pertain to my style of cooking, and refer to it at least weekly. Knowing the science behind cooking can save you from many mistakes.

Wasting Food!

Usually a recipe takes at least a couple of tries before I get it right, and sometimes more.

Occasionally I throw out the attempt altogether, as when I tried to cook a savory dish with bananas.

When I first started trying to make my own recipes, it was hard to fail and throw away a bunch of food. But if you’re going to develop recipes, you must. Just have a compost pile to “save” what you can. Unless you’re a master baker, or have worked in a creative bakery, do not start with baking. It’s tricky.

Here are three great sources:

The Kitchen: How to Write a Recipe 

Cookbook Style Sheet  – This is for the serious recipe writer, though it’s worth a look for anyone.

Here’s a great piece from a cookbook editor, showing how a recipe is edited.

And if you want to write or blog, go for it! Sure, the cooking/food world is crowded and popular now, but if you do what you love, you can’t go wrong. I wanted to write about my ancestors, since I love genealogy and have all kinds of old family photos. Since I liked rural-style old-time recipes, the ideas meshed and “Country Cooking” was born.

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The Strangest Quotes You Have Ever Heard, No Kidding

I have a box of personal journals I almost never look at. In fact, I’ve never read any of them (except for a page or two at a time) since I wrote them. But, I was reorganizing in the basement and needed to put them into a different box, so recently I accessed them. In one journal I noticed a small notebook with no title. I didn’t remember it. I opened it and found a collection of quotes and a few excerpts I’d copied from publications.

What a strange melange. Some of the items I expected, such as quotes from religion, New Age thinking, writing teachers, famous writers, history and even friends. Keep in mind I’ve always been a cultural polymath. The ones below are among the strangest and most interesting of the quotes.

An excerpt from Variety, Aug. 26, 1981, p. 68, about a Michael Jackson concert: During the 45-minute lapse between acts, scores of youths created havoc by beating and robbing patrons of jewelry and handbags. Even after the show, patrons were followed, harrassed and robbed in the streets as they left the [Madison Square] Garden. Despite security and police efforts outside the arena, the gangs turned the evening into a nightmare for many.

To call it disjoint is to imply it has joints.Elaine Viets, St. Louis Post-Dispatch

‘Spurt,’ ‘tang,’ and ‘zap’ belong among the warthogs of the word family. — James and Marguerite Pendergast, Writer’s Digest, April 1976, “Thought for Food.”

Someday, so help me, I’ll be so famous none of you will ever be able to touch me again.Rona Barrett (anyone remember her?)

A relationship is spiritual and ought not to be screwed with. — Naomi Oates [played by Dorothy Lyman] on TV show Mama’s Family

We Americans don’t fantasize about commanding the Sixth Fleet or running General Motors. We think about driving the Ferrari downtown to pick up the Oscar before our date with Cheryl Ladd or Burt Reynolds.Robert McKenzie, TV Guide

I’m not a nobody. And I’m loved. And I’m not mean. And I got what I wanted.Suzanne Somers [I believe this was an article related to her battle with co-stars on Three’s Company]

On the last page was a list of my “favorite words.”

Favorite Words
transient ambiance banal tangible exigencies pejorative omniscient languidly
limned mercurial austere esoteric transcend self-aggrandizement dichotomy
nadir melee symmetrical elemental thwart unfathomable epitome garish
elusive fracas innate ephemeral incendiary tensile protracted
vaporous trenchant ennui amalgam histrionics vitiate oeuvre oscillate
precipice gamut appose phalanx ineffable

I recognize a few, which were little-known, like limned and appose. I remember being attracted to words that were pronounced quite differently than they looked, such as melee, and words that started with a series of straight consonants or vowels, such as thwart and oeuvre.

There needs to a psychological test for writers to list favorite words; I’m sure there’s a personality profile in there somewhere.

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Doomsday Escapers

For awhile I was hooked on the TV show Doomsday Preppers. It all seemed so real, what could happen to take society down. While not highly likely, the scenarios preppers thought of became more plausible with each passing episode:

Chuck Mallory author dystopian fiction

  1. A comet could hit the earth. 
  1. Yellowstone Park, actually the largest volcano anywhere, could erupt, cloaking the earth in plant-killing darkness for many years.
  1. Terrorists could get hold of nuclear weapons and/or biological weapons and use them on us.
  1. Terrorists could hack the public utility systems, taking down heat, electricity, water.
  1. (Less likely, but more fun:) The Illuminati would finally take over and establish the New World Order, having used the world’s power brokers, banks and even show business, enslaving us all. Stars like Madonna and Beyonce would confess they were always aligned with Satan, Bill Gates would laugh at how he got us all distracted, and Barack Obama would admit he was the Antichrist.

I will admit to doing a little “stocking up,” but it was rather half-hearted. I put some bottled water in one plastic tub and array of items from Aldi–not wanting to be embarrassed by full, expensive commitment–in another. Cans of protein-based food, dried pasta, matches, candles, aspirin and a few other end-of-times necessities were included. I assuaged myself with the thought that it wasn’t such a bad idea, considering sometimes areas had outages in winter lasting more than a day or two.

Having a few things on hand made me feel smart, but the more I watched Doomsday Preppers, the dumber I felt. These people were doing everything and still were not graded as fully prepared. They had mountains of food. Medicine. Guns. Wells. Barriers. Bunkers. Chickens. Greenhouses. Escape vehicles. Hazmat suits. They even had networks of like-minded people they could band with to shoot the many starving people who would roam the countryside, trying to get steal food and water.

Of course fiction can portray it all the more deeply. Anyone untouched by Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road has no soul–especially if they could lightly bypass the scene where there’s a dead baby roasting on a skewer in the fireplace.

I was semi-inspired to do my own dystopian fiction at one point. I was never the type for dystopian competitiveness as found in the super-famous YA books like The Hunger Games or Divergent. The more domestic side of life in that disaster scenario seemed more fun to me. Trouble was, all the good apocalyptic events were already taken.

The end-of-normalcy books I loved most (and wish I’d written) were Susan Beth Pfeffer’s “Last Survivors” series of four books: Life As We Knew It, The Dead and the Gone, This World We Live In, and The Shade of the Moon.

The first book especially grabbed me. This was the more realistic scenario I expected. There is a cosmic accident, and the first thing the family does to “prep” is drain the bank account at the ATM and run to the grocery store to out-grab others. Mom even suddenly remembers, and screams to her daughter, “Go to the tampons aisle! Get lots of tampons!”

Mockingjays be damned. It doesn’t get any more real than tampons.

The second book in the series, The Dead and the Gone, though barely-known compared to the monolith tomes by Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth, is actually the most terrifying YA apocalyptic novel I’ve ever read. Imagine destroyed New York City filled with corpses baking, bloating and finally bursting in the hot sun.

Chuck Mallory author discusses Susan Beth Pfeffer

Susan Beth Pfeffer–really?

That, from an author whose picture on the internet looks like a sweet, smiling grandmother, decked out in an old-lady jacket and librarian-like glasses. With a flowering magnolia tree in the background.

The conclusion to all this is that it made me think–thankfully, before I started writing. If the world is covered with ashes and there is no food anywhere save for a few rusty cans of beans, or you need five teenagers at home who can help you shoot to death your approaching neighbors who are coming to beg for food, or you have to forage for weeds you can eat or drink brackish water from a well–and knowing that life as we know it has changed forever–why do you want to survive for years and years?

I had already survived. I had finally not hopped on a trend and written something that I thought would be a “hot topic.” Because if you try to get published by writing what’s “hot,” you can’t get that fiery depth of writing that comes from deep in your soul.

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