It wasn’t until I wrote my list down that I realized every book was written by a woman. I did read books by men—but these were my favorites for the year. They took me away from covid and other troubles. They made me feel strongly about strong characters. They took me to new places and old places, places I’d never see if not for these authors.
Thank you all for writing them.
Pyotr took my hand and we walked slowly back to our shelf to witness the family’s holiday. At the dining room doorway, he stopped and looked up.
“Do you know what that is?” he asked
All I could see was a sprig of greenery with a red bow. “Holly? Ivy?”
“No, it’s mistletoe.”
I fluttered my wings only once and I was airborne. Rising above the manger scene, clutching Cecilia’s guitar, I was both exhilarated and terrified.
strode to the angel’s side and bowed most formally. “Madam,” I said, emphasizing the deep tones in my voice. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, a nutcracker by birth and a nobleman who wears the uniform of my father in Russia.”
This week, I am running short fiction inspired by the holidays. This short series begins my literary celebration of the season. Inspired by of all things, my own Christmas decorations, Comfort and Joy introduces you to the lonely nutcracker and the grieving angel and all the cohort of angels, Nativity characters and snow people around…
For the next few days, I am running short fiction inspired by the holidays. This short series begins my literary celebration of the season. Inspired by of all things, my own Christmas decorations, Comfort and Joy introduces you to the lonely nutcracker and the grieving angel and all the cohort of angels, Nativity characters and…
I went inside to the parlor and found a tree, not as tall as me, was sitting on the table where Lenore usually has Mr. Poe’s books. It even had little sparkly lights on it, red and green and white. On the top was a raven, like the one Eddy wrote about in that poem everybody likes.
On the twelfth day of Christmas… Having tossed the original idea of the twelve days of Christmas away, I’m counting down the twelve days before Christmas to offer my gratitude for the people and things that make the writing life possible for me. Today it’s perspiration. I don’t know where I sweat more, during Zumba, or when…
On the eleventh day of Christmas… Instead of counting the official twelve days of Christmas, I’m counting down the twelve days before Christmas to offer my gratitude for the people and things that make the writing life possible for me. Today I’m thankful for inspiration. You know what it’s like to sit in front of a blank…
On the tenth day of Christmas… Instead of counting the official twelve days of Christmas, I’m counting down the twelve days before Christmas to offer my gratitude for the people and things that make the writing life possible for me. Today it’s editors. I need to give a shout-out to the wordsmiths who make my writing stronger,…
Mary K. Tilghman writes 