New anthology available: Etched in Memory

Readers of this blog are surely aware that I'm a member of a very active writing group, the Writers of Chantilly.  What they may not know is that this year I edited the group's annual anthology, which just in the past week became available on Amazon and Kindle.

I am quite proud of my work on this, and I learned a lot from my first time as editor, about both the editing process and about writing.  Unfortunately, I do not have any stories appearing in this anthology, though I tried writing two.  The first took a twist (into erotica, oddly--never had that happen before) that I felt made it inappropriate for the book, and the second I was unable to finish.

For fans of my writing (all two of you!) I promise that next year's anthology will definitely have one or more of my stories.  In the meantime, I can heartily recommend this book as being crammed full of fascinating short stories and essays.  Here's the book's description from its back cover:

In this latest anthology from the renowned Writers of Chantilly, you will discover a variety of unforgettable stories describing incidents that have left an indelible mark on their participants. Some are from the past, some from the imagination, all are Etched in Memory.

New Book Out: Nana...and Other Grandmothers

The Writers of Chantilly have their (nearly) annual collection out: Nana...and Other Grandmothers.  The various writers in the WoC have contributed stories based on the theme of Grandmothers.  One of those writers is me!

My contribution is titled "The Price of Gas."  Here's the tag line:

When Grandma Schmeckpepper drives her eight-cylinder 1970s gas guzzler, the decades fall away.  It takes a grandson’s request to make her consider the possibility of aging a little more gracefully.  

If you are a parent or grandparent of mine, don't bother ordering, you will be getting one of these in the mail sooner or later.  Maybe for Mother's Day?  Others may go to this Link and order the book for the low, low price of $10.95!

As further incentive, here's the first paragraph of "The Price of Gas":

It was a dew-glistening spring morning, gentle and balmy, the kind of morning made for leaving your jacket in the closet. A tan young woman jogged down the sidewalk in quiet contemplation. A man in a business suit stood reading his quarter-folded newspaper at the bus stop. An elderly man sat on his front porch observing the scene. And Mrs. Schmeckpepper took the corner at sixty miles an hour, stepped on the accelerator, and punched her 1977 Buick Skylark down the block with a rumble that shook the pavement.