The X Rays (1897)

White Kittens Get a Bath

Why we love Law School [ENG SUB]

Infirmery Weekend

The festivities started with a trip to the ER for me at eleven o'clock on Saturday night, getting into bed a couple of hours before dawn for a nap, and then off to the dentist with Daniel for our regularly scheduled appointments.

We had the post-dentist festivities of running around for medicine, which, on Monday morning, appears to have started doing its job. But it's making me super sleepy, so hopefully I'll just need one week of it. Still, it makes for a challenging work week. Wish me luck!

Rebekah, who is recovering from gall bladder surgery, goes back to work today. Fortunately, she does work from home. She is feeling better but not completely. Wish her luck, too!

Timothy and Daniel biked twenty miles yesterday as part of an event to raise money for diabetes, and about halfway into the ride Daniel's handlebars came apart. The boys reassmbled them as best as they could. The rest of the biking was difficult for him, but he finished the twenty miles and came home super, super sore (he is better this morning - wish him luck).

On the other hand, Timothy is taking a week of vacation this week. Wish him luck for a boring, uneventful week. 

Finally, to make sure the weekend didn't end on a boring note, Sarah had to take my mother to the ER last night and had to bring my father along for the ride because he has early Alzheimer's.

But because of COVID, they could not stay. So Sarah went back to my parents' house with my dad to wait for a call from the hospital. By eleven o'clock at night, the hospital was considering admitting my mother. Thirty minutes later, Sarah and my dad were on the road because the hospital had no beds.

So while this post may sound like a gripe, I hope you see the blessings between the lines.

Blessings of modern medicine and the people who provide those services and care.

Blessings of adult children who have their priorities in place and give of their time for others.

It's a great Monday morning.

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage."

Story Round-Up: Features in The Herald-News, Sept. 18 through Sept. 24

Good morning!

Despite having worked just four days this week, I have eleven stories to share with you today and a few not yet posted, so watch for them over the long weekend.

The final three parts of the six-part series about the finding of the remains of a World War II Army veteran and bringing them home for burial more than seven decades after he went missing posted this past week and those are part of the eleven.

You can also read all six installments here.

For a recap of last weeks at-home writing retreat, read this post.

Here is a recap of projects-in-progress on the fiction front and my goals for this weekend.

I'll reconnect with Call of the Siren (the second book in the Limbo series) tonight by reading through last week's work. And then I'll start working, in a very upu close and granular way, on all the areas I've sectioned off. I have no timetable for getting this done because this is where the quality of the writing counts.

We have two books in progress for The Adventures of Cornell Dyer series to share (Cornell Dyer and the "Mistical" Being, co-written by Rebekah, who is recovering from surgery) and Cornell Dyer and the Calcium-Deficient Bones (co-written by Timothy), which is almost ready for editing.

Our artist Sue Midlock is nearly done with the chapter heading illustrations for "Mistical Being." Sue is still experiencing some issues from her surgery in June, so the art is coming along slowly. Please keep the good thoughts/prayers coming for Sue. 

Timothy is currently outlining another Cornell Dyer story. This one is another parody and features a character named Sherman Homes.

A few weeks back, Sarah had a crazy dream that sounded perfect for An Adventure of Cornell Dyer mystery. But she wants time to draw some sketches, a map, and write the "rules." It's called Cornell Dyer and the House of Broken Portals.

Bertrand the Mouse has returned, and you can read about it here, here, and here. 

Jennifer Wainright (frontispiece artist for Lycanthropic Summer) has completed two portraits for  "Girls of the BryonySeries" series for tween girls. It's beautiful and it shows that artist Jennifer Wainright can draw anything from werewolves to portraits! 

She was working on art for the third book (I have eight planned in all and two in progress). Jennifer is also recovering from a motorcyle accident, so please send up good thoughts for her, too!

Now back to the eleven stories. Simply click on the link of the story that looks interesting to you. Happy scrolling!

But before the stories, I have a list of additional resources and information. Please check them out, too -

Finally, if you'd like to find more kindness in your life, consider this book.

And have a great Friday!

RECIPE OF THE WEEK

Sue's Diner is a fictional restaurant in the fictional Munsonville that only exists in the BryonySeries.

Each Sunday, we post a new recipe. The recipe is either featured in one of our cookbooks or will be featured in an upcoming cookbook.

Check out the recipe here.

WRITERS

If you're a writer anywhere in the world, you're welcome to join WriteOn Joliet's Facebook page. We're based in Joliet, Illinois, but we love to meet and interact with writers outside our area, too.

If you'd like to officially join WriteOn Joliet, we have two tiers of dues. We also have a marketing arm that's getting longer every year, well, except this year. Check us out at writeonjoliet.com.

I also suggest this book: Little Book of Revision: A Checklist for Fiction Writers. It's exactly as it says. Each page some with one suggestion for revision. The rest of the page is blank, so you can add your own notes. All proceeds benefit WriteOn Joliet.

If you need support in your writing, I highly recommend this Twitter group: #5amwritersclub. I  joined it last year. Writers support each other on Twitter and meet every three weeks at 5 a.m. (4 a.m. CST - needless to say, I am often late!) on Zoom.

If you need editing or help with self-publishing, check out dmbaranunland.com.

ARTISTS

If you need an artist for a project, I offer these recommendations.

NEWSLETTERS

Sign up for the Will County Go Guide and Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story and Book Review Newsletter at https://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/

Sign up for The Munsonville Times by emailing us at bryonyseries@gmail.com. The newsletter still isn't official yet, so we don't have an actual link on the website - but we are working on it! 

SOCIAL MEDIA

Daily updates: I do post the briefs on Twitter during the week, so you're welcome to follow me at @Denise_Unland61.

BryonySeries stuff: I post curated content relating to the BryonySeries at @BryonySeries. And assorted related content at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries.

And of course, please follow the adventures of Bertrand the Mouse on Instagram at bertrand_bryonyseries.

BRYONYSERIES BOOKS

For books and more information about the series, visit bryonyseries.com.

BRYONYSERIES EVENTS

A full month of virtual events can be found at bryonyseries.com/calendar-of-events-1.

QUESTIONS

Email me at bryonyseries@gmail.com.

Thank you for reading The Herald-News. And for reading this blog. And if you've read (or plan to read) any of my books. Your support is greatly appreciated.

FEATURES

‘He hasn’t even had a chance to experience life yet’: Family of dying Minooka 20-year-old raising money for treatments

Morris Hospital Auxiliary’s 26th annual golf tournament is now virtual: Proceeds benefit patient transportation and Lifeline programs

Board-certified nurse practitioner joins Morris Hospital Cardiovascular Specialists: Alyssa Dearth has 13 years of nursing experience

5 Things to Do in Will County: Visit the past with the Blues Brothers and Napoleon Dynamite: Plus, Wild Fest Fall 2021, Miss Joliet PrideFest Pageant and Friends of Mokena Library fall book sale

Low-income Will County households: apply now for energy assistance: Households must be at or below 200% of the federal poverty level to qualify

See a textile exhibit inside, look for monarch butterflies outside: Will County Inside/Outside Guide offers suggestions for enjoying your weekend

46 students at Providence Catholic H.S. in New Lenox earn AP Scholar Awards: 7 of the students were also named AP Scholar with Distinction and 10 earned the designation of AP Scholar with Honor

Local health experts reiterate safety of COVID vaccines: COVID vaccines are also safe for women who are pregnant or planning to become pregnant 

The final three parts of "Arthur Countryman"

 ‘Well, I guess I don’t have a dad anymore’:WWII #Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Here’s what happened to Arthur Countryman in Germany’s Hürtgen Forest: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman comes home 7 decades after he left to serve his country: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage."

The Werewolf -1913

Arthur Countryman

Over the summer, I worked on a story for The Herald-News about how the remains of a thirty-seven-year-old World War II veteran named Arthur Countryman were recovered more than seven decades after Arthur was killed in service.

The story shares insights into his childhood in Plainfield, the memories his children had of him when they were growing up (two of them are still alive), their memories of his departure and learning he was killed, the news of recovery and how he was found and identified, and his coming home to be buried near his wife.

Because of the story's length, The Herald-News ran the story in installments. All six installments of the story posted while I was taking an at-home writing retreat last week and while Rebekah was having surgery. For your convenience, here are all six links.

 'Never in our lives did we expect to bring home Grandpa’: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman had a ‘wandering spirit’ and yearned to be a soldier: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman’s daughters, now 85 and 90, share their childhood memories: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

 ‘Well, I guess I don’t have a dad anymore’:WWII #Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Here’s what happened to Arthur Countryman in Germany’s Hürtgen Forest: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman comes home 7 decades after he left to serve his country: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

2021 At-Home Writing Retreat No. 1 Recap

Late yesterday afternoon, I officially ended my first at-home writing retreat of 2021 (I had vacation time to use and no place to go, thank you, COVID).

I will take a second retreat, hopefully next month, as I still have vacation time I must use before the end of the year.

Here was my goal: to turn my outlined, very rough draft of Call of the Siren (the second book in the Limbo trilogy) into a solid working draft that I can shape, revise, and edit.

Here is its back cover summary:

Sue Bass is haunted by dreams of her father, who died in a boating accident before she was born, alluring dreams of water and song. But then a soft-spoken outside man with an inside plan comes to town, and Sue's sleepwalking stops, only to resurface with greater magnetism when he leaves.

Two voices beckon. Which one will she heed?

I divided half of the novel into sections for each day, to keep me on track. I'll do the same with the other half of the novel during the second retreat.

Basically, I wrote at a rate of two chapters per day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Rebekah had surgery on Thursday, so I took Thursday off to focus solely on her.

And then Cindy came down Thursday night and gave Rebekah her personal CNA attention until she had to return to work early on Sunday morning, which meant Rebekah could hang out with someone more fun than her mom.

Well, how did I do?

Very well, actually. And very happy to return to work.

I hit every goal. 

Now some chapters were not quite as detailed as I wanted them to be. And some are actually nearly finished. Furthermore, I accomplished some additional, but related, projects, too, that weren't on my homework list.

I created granular sections of more "homework" in all the chapters, for focused work on the weekends.

I started a checkpoint list for editing, for when I reach that stage.

I worked out some major issues with mood, plot, writing style, and "music" that only the protagnoist hears.

This last one was the most challenging part of the manuscript. Too much detail for the reader and then the music ceases to be an elusive, mystical, magical sound. But I found a way to (hopefully) foster the ability for the reader to "hear" it, but not exactly "hear" it - a sense of it, but always out of grasp.

Make sense? No? Well, then you can imagine how difficult it was for me to portray it.

And if it does make sense, you're in for a treat.

I also put together a pretty detailed plan for the artwork, as well (I already have the cover, courtesy of Nancy Calkins).

I did engage more with the family than I had originally planned, but I think that made the retreat more focused, less frustrating, and one of the most pleasant at-home retreat experiences I've enjoyed.

An amazing calm settled over me on Saturday night, knowing that, creatively, I'd hit all the right notes.

Don't get me wrong. The manuscript is still a mess. But it's less of a mess. It's more of an organized mess, and it's organized in the direction it needs to go.

And, yes. I drank lots of coffee (and Timothy kept me well stocked in Dunkin Americanos).

 And I burned lots of incense. Still have to clean that up.

So if the week was so wonderful, why am I ready to return to work? 

Well, because, as delightful as it sounds to live in an imaginary world, being creative on that level is hard, hard work, although a different type of hard work than my role as features editor/writer for The Herald-News.

Also, my fiction wanders in dark and murky areas. One week steeped in that environment is long enough, at least for me. 

I'm glad, grateful even, that writing fiction is a weekend project on the hobby side of life and not part of my daily life, where I write for the community and try to serve my family and friends well.

Now you're probably wondering: what did Uncle Barty and Bertrand the Mouse do all this time?

That's a whole other post.

For tomorrow.

Sue's Diner: Fried Potatoes

This week's recipe features an unusual twist for fried potatoes. A former daughter-in-law submitted it a decade ago when we were collecting recipes for a companion cookbook prior to the release of the first book in the BryonySeries.

This recipe appears in the BryonySeries cookbook: Memories in the Kitchen: Bites and Nibbles from "Bryony," which is a permament fundraiser for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Will and Grundy Counties.

The recipe is referenced in the novel Bryony, where the protagonist, a 1970s teen named Melissa Marchellis, finds it on her breakfast tray during her first morning in the 18th century when she wakes up inside Simons Mansion,

You can try our modified recipe on the Sue's Diner page on the BryonySeries website.

But try the recipe this week. It will be gone some time next week. A new recipe will take it's place. 

By the way, Sue's Diner is only real in the BryonySeries world. But didn't Timothy do a great job making the page look like a real menu at a vintage diner?

Here is the full diner page: bryonyseries.com/sue-s-diner. You can't really order, of course (wouldn't it be great if you could?).

For more BryonySeries recipes, check out our three cookbooks at our BryonySeries bryonyseries.com/general-store.

Chris Fleischer, Piano- Great Is Thy Faithfulness

The Willow Maid - Erutan (katethegreat19)

Story Round-Up: Features in The Herald-News, Sept. 11 through Sept. 17

Good morning!

I have seventeen stories to share with you today and a few not yet posted, so watch for them over the long weekend.

How can that be since I was all off week? Well, one six-part series about the finding of the remains of a World War II Army veteran and bringing them home for burial more than seven decades after he went missing is the result of work done over several weeks. I also worked last weekend and, of course, wrote some stories.

Finally, some stories didn't run until this week.

On the fiction front, how is the at-home writing retreat progressing? Actually, I'm almost right on schedule. 

The goal is to write a good working draft of half of Call of the Siren (the second book in the Limbo trilogy) during this retreat and then write a good working draft of the second half.

I'm currently ahead by one chapter, although the chapters are less developed than I'd wished, which was probably a little too ambitious for a two-chapter-per-day plan.

However, the future work in these chapters is clearly and directly marked, which will make the follow-ups easier than the process up until now.

And I've done some additional side notes and work on these chapters that I hadn't anticipated happening. So keep the good thoughts coming, because it's a very successful writing retreat so far - and it doesn't end until later Monday afternoon.

We have two books in progress for The Adventures of Cornell Dyer series to share (Cornell Dyer and the "Mistical" Being, co-written by Rebekah, who had surgery yesterday) and Cornell Dyer and the Calcium-Deficient Bones (co-written by Timothy), which is almost ready for editing.

 Our artist Sue Midlock is nearly done with the chapter heading illustrations for "Mistical Being." Sue is recovering nicely now from her own surgery at the start of summer but may have another issue, ugh! So please keep the good thoughts coming. 

Timothy is currently outlining another Cornell Dyer story. This one is another parody and features a character named Sherman Homes.

A few weeks back, Sarah had a crazy dream that sounded perfect for An Adventure of Cornell Dyer mystery. But she wants time to draw some sketches, a map, and write the "rules." It's called Cornell Dyer and the House of Broken Portals.

Bertrand the Mouse has returned, and you can read about it here, here, and here. 

Jennifer Wainright (frontispiece artist for Lycanthropic Summer) has completed two portraits for  "Girls of the BryonySeries" series for tween girls. It's beautiful and it shows that artist Jennifer Wainright can draw anything from werewolves to portraits! 

She was working on art for the third book (I have eight planned in all and two in progress). Jennifer is also recovering from a motorcyle accident, so please send up good thoughts for her, too!

Now back to the seventeen stories. Simply click on the link of the story that looks interesting to you. Happy scrolling!

But before the stories, I have a list of additional resources and information. Please check them out, too -

Finally, if you'd like to find more kindness in your life, consider this book.

And have a great Friday!

RECIPE OF THE WEEK

Sue's Diner is a fictional restaurant in the fictional Munsonville that only exists in the BryonySeries.

Each Sunday, we post a new recipe. The recipe is either featured in one of our cookbooks or will be featured in an upcoming cookbook.

Check out the recipe here.

WRITERS

If you're a writer anywhere in the world, you're welcome to join WriteOn Joliet's Facebook page. We're based in Joliet, Illinois, but we love to meet and interact with writers outside our area, too.

If you'd like to officially join WriteOn Joliet, we have two tiers of dues. We also have a marketing arm that's getting longer every year, well, except this year. Check us out at writeonjoliet.com.

I also suggest this book: Little Book of Revision: A Checklist for Fiction Writers. It's exactly as it says. Each page some with one suggestion for revision. The rest of the page is blank, so you can add your own notes. All proceeds benefit WriteOn Joliet.

If you need support in your writing, I highly recommend this Twitter group: #5amwritersclub. I  joined it last year. Writers support each other on Twitter and meet every three weeks at 5 a.m. (4 a.m. CST - needless to say, I am often late!) on Zoom.

If you need editing or help with self-publishing, check out dmbaranunland.com.

ARTISTS

If you need an artist for a project, I offer these recommendations.

NEWSLETTERS

Sign up for the Will County Go Guide and Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story and Book Review Newsletter at https://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/

Sign up for The Munsonville Times by emailing us at bryonyseries@gmail.com. The newsletter still isn't official yet, so we don't have an actual link on the website - but we are working on it! 

SOCIAL MEDIA

Daily updates: I do post the briefs on Twitter during the week, so you're welcome to follow me at @Denise_Unland61.

BryonySeries stuff: I post curated content relating to the BryonySeries at @BryonySeries. And assorted related content at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries.

And of course, please follow the adventures of Bertrand the Mouse on Instagram at bertrand_bryonyseries.

BRYONYSERIES BOOKS

For books and more information about the series, visit bryonyseries.com.

BRYONYSERIES EVENTS

A full month of virtual events can be found at bryonyseries.com/calendar-of-events-1.

QUESTIONS

Email me at bryonyseries@gmail.com.

Thank you for reading The Herald-News. And for reading this blog. And if you've read (or plan to read) any of my books. Your support is greatly appreciated.

FEATURES

'We stood in the streets, we stood next to each other. And whatever divided us before, vanished’: Joliet-area residents share memories of 9/11

Boil order in effect for village of #Plainfield until further notice: Presence of E. coli was detected Wednesday

E. coli detected in village of Plainfield water on Wednesday, staff unaware until Friday: 21 samples taken on Friday were negative, more samples taken Saturday

Will County remembers the 2,977 people who were killed in the 9/11 attacks: 20th anniversary ceremony was held in front of the Will County courthouse on Saturday

An Extraordinary Life: Will County judge was a ‘strong voice for justice and civil rights’: Despite humble beginnings, Raymond Bolden was a ‘powerful force’ for equality and championed the oppressed

Man dies of apparent gunshot wound: Autopsy scheduled for Sunday

Pets of the Week: Sept. 13: Will County rescues have dogs and cats for adoption

Joliet pharmacist will be honored for securing COVID vaccines for people with disabilities: Trinity Services will honor Chad Kodiak at its dinner dance on Sept. 18, tickets available now 

Will-Grundy Medical Clinic to host 33rd Annual Celebration on Sept. 16: Funds raised will provide COVID testing and vaccines, primary and mental health services and housing support for those in need 

5 Things to Do in Will County: 9/11 commemoration, living military history, bird hike, Woofstock: Plus, Skip Griparis will perform his inaugural tribute to The Beatles

5 Things to do in Will County: Celebrate potato rocks on Saturday and aircraft on SundayOther area highlights include karaoke, petting zoo, Latino fest 

Foster, Newman visit Will-Grundy Medical Clinic: Visits included tour of facility, reception

Corn Fest 5K Run is now a virtual event: Morris Hospital says the change is due to the increase of COVID in the community

Religious education program in Crest Hill welcoming new families: Registration will be held Saturday at St. Ambrose Catholic Church

D. 202 in Plainfield announces 2021 AP Scholars: The 252 AP Scholars includes graduates and current students 

The first three parts of a six-part story:

'Never in our lives did we expect to bring home Grandpa’: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman had a ‘wandering spirit’ and yearned to be a soldier: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Arthur Countryman’s daughters, now 85 and 90, share their childhood memories: WWII Army veteran laid to rest in Plainfield 77 years after he’s killed

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage."

Never Trust a Scorpio. Joe Zimmerman - Full Special

Siren Song (Original)

The Six Days of New York - Bike Race

The Anatomy of an At-Home Writing Retreat

Since I've used zero vacation time all year and vacation time doessn't carry over inot the next calendar year, I've decided to schedule a couple at-home writing retreats.

The first begins shortly.

If this sounds like fun, please know it only "sounds like fun." I've done a few of these now (thank you, finances (2018) and COVID (2020 and 2021), and they are intense and grueling.

The goal is to turn my outlined, very rough draft of Call of the Siren into a solid working draft that I can shape, revise, and edit. I have my "homework" divided into sections for each day, to keep me on track.

Wish me lots of luck (I'm going to need it).

Here's what an at-home, writing retreat typically looks like for me:

Sunday night: OMG, I'm so I excited! A whole week of writing a world of make-believe. I've got coffee. I've got inspiration. Here we go!

Monday: Well, I didn't get quite as much done as I wanted. But I've got most of the week left. I can make up for it.

Tuesday: Mind roams, not as focused. Underestimated the amount of research I needed on "x" topic. Get pulled down a rabbit hole of one unrelated click after another. Forgot to post Bertrand on Instagram, so get distracted by that. Didn't meet goal. Don't care as much as I did yesterday.

Wednesday: I hate writing. I hate coffee. I hate fiction. This writing retreat is stupid. I need a vacation. I can't wait to go back to work.

Thursday: The time pressure is on. Sprint writing.

Friday: Marathon writing. Skimming over more details than I want. Will have plenty of extra work in the revision stages because of it.

Saturday: Becoming resigned that my goal was too lofty. Get a realistic amount of writing done and set some goals for Sunday and the following weekend.

Sunday: Distracted writing. Pushing the undone work to next weekend. Mind roaming to the features writing I'll be doing on Monday. Checking some work email.

Now this week will have some variations.

For instance, I have today off because I worked the weekend, so my actualy vacation time doesn't start until tomorrow. So I took next Wednesday off, too.

And I'm giving myself a break on Thursday because Rebekah is having surgery. So anything post-Thursday might look different, too.

One clarifcation: by "break," I meant break from Call of the Siren. I will have my laptop with me at the hospital finishing up Cornell Dyer and the Calcium-Deficient Bones.

Again, please wish me plenty of luck.

Chris Fleischer, Piano- My Country, 'Tis Of Thee

The Barleycorn - Irish Soldier Laddie | Irish Rebel

Story Round-Up: Features in The Herald-News, Sept. 4 through Sept. 10

Good morning!

I have sixteen stories to share with you today and quite a few not yet posted, so watch for them over the long weekend.

Quite a bit has changed on the fiction front, so here is a quick recap.

First of all, I am working straight through the weekend, and I am excited and honored since it is the twentieth anniversary of 9/11 tomorrow. I've also been working on a big piece that will run tomorrow, too, and I'm thankful I was asked to write it.

And then, after I clock out from work on Sunday, an intense week of "other" writing will begin.

Thanks to COVID (again), I did not make it down to Raleigh (again) this summer to see Sarah. So I am using some of my vacation time to take two at-home writing retreats. The first one starts on Monday - barring any emergencies, for it's been a year of them, it seems.

The goal is to write a good working draft of half of Call of the Siren (the second book in the Limbo trilogy) during this retreat and then write a good working draft of the second half.

Please send lots of good thoughts because this is not as fun as it sounds. 

We have another book in The Adventures of Cornell Dyer series to share (Cornell Dyer and the "Mistical" Being, co-written by Rebekah, who also needs surgery now). Our artist Sue Midlock is nearly done with the chapter heading illustrations. 

Sue is recovering nicely now from that surgery but may have another issue, ugh! So please keep the good thoughts coming. 

I finished most of  Cornell Dyer and the Calcium-Deficient Bones over Labor Day weekend. So when Sue is done with the art for "Mistical Being," we will send her the next round of ideas.

Timothy is currently outlining another Cornell Dyer story. This one is another parody and features a character named Sherman Homes.

A few weeks back, Sarah had a crazy dream that sounded perfect for An Adventure of Cornell Dyer mystery. But she wants time to draw some sketches, a map, and write the "rules." It's called Cornell Dyer and the House of Broken Portals.

Bertrand the Mouse has returned, and you can read about it here, here, and here. 

I also have in my possession the first piece of completed cover art for the "Girls of the BryonySeries" series for tween girls. It's beautiful and it shows that artist Jennifer Wainright can draw anything from werewolves to portraits! She was working on art for the next two books (I have eight planned in all) - until she was in a bad motorcycle accident. Please send up good thoughts for her, too!

I have one "Girls of the BryonySeries" book ready for editing, a second in progress, and some really skeletal outlines for the rest. So I'm not lacking in projects, just time - but I have three days this weekend and intend to make good use of them. 

Now back to the sixteen stories. Simply click on the link of the story that looks interesting to you. Happy scrolling!

But before the stories, I have a list of additional resources and information. Please check them out, too -

Finally, if you'd like to find more kindness in your life, consider this book.

And have a great Friday!

RECIPE OF THE WEEK

Sue's Diner is a fictional restaurant in the fictional Munsonville that only exists in the BryonySeries.

Each Sunday, we post a new recipe. The recipe is either featured in one of our cookbooks or will be featured in an upcoming cookbook.

Check out the recipe here.

WRITERS

If you're a writer anywhere in the world, you're welcome to join WriteOn Joliet's Facebook page. We're based in Joliet, Illinois, but we love to meet and interact with writers outside our area, too.

If you'd like to officially join WriteOn Joliet, we have two tiers of dues. We also have a marketing arm that's getting longer every year, well, except this year. Check us out at writeonjoliet.com.

I also suggest this book: Little Book of Revision: A Checklist for Fiction Writers. It's exactly as it says. Each page some with one suggestion for revision. The rest of the page is blank, so you can add your own notes. All proceeds benefit WriteOn Joliet.

If you need support in your writing, I highly recommend this Twitter group: #5amwritersclub. I  joined it last year. Writers support each other on Twitter and meet every three weeks at 5 a.m. (4 a.m. CST - needless to say, I am often late!) on Zoom.

If you need editing or help with self-publishing, check out dmbaranunland.com.

ARTISTS

If you need an artist for a project, I offer these recommendations.

NEWSLETTERS

Sign up for the Will County Go Guide and Sign up for the LocalLit Short Story and Book Review Newsletter at https://www.theherald-news.com/newsletter/

Sign up for The Munsonville Times by emailing us at bryonyseries@gmail.com. The newsletter still isn't official yet, so we don't have an actual link on the website - but we are working on it! 

SOCIAL MEDIA

Daily updates: I do post the briefs on Twitter during the week, so you're welcome to follow me at @Denise_Unland61.

BryonySeries stuff: I post curated content relating to the BryonySeries at @BryonySeries. And assorted related content at www.facebook.com/BryonySeries.

And of course, please follow the adventures of Bertrand the Mouse on Instagram at bertrand_bryonyseries.

BRYONYSERIES BOOKS

For books and more information about the series, visit bryonyseries.com.

BRYONYSERIES EVENTS

A full month of virtual events can be found at bryonyseries.com/calendar-of-events-1.

QUESTIONS

Email me at bryonyseries@gmail.com.

Thank you for reading The Herald-News. And for reading this blog. And if you've read (or plan to read) any of my books. Your support is greatly appreciated.

FEATURES

Baran-Unland: COVID is still here. Be mindful this Labor Day weekend: Mask up, step back, be safe

An Extraordinary Life: Joliet WWII veteran was a ‘a valedictorian in the school of life’: Glenn Masek served his country, his family and fellow seniors with intention and a big smile

D. 86 in Joliet recognizes employees for their years of service: Employees were recognized for five, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, and 35 years of service with District 86 

ISP will conduct special patrols Saturday through Monday: Patrols include occupant restraint enforcement and distracted driving

Pets of the Week: Sept. 7: Will County rescues have dogs and cats for adoption

Mystery Diner in Plainfield: From calzones to cannoli, you’ll love Vita Bella Pizza: Venue offers wide variety of Italian cuisine

Storm rips down power lines, trees in Channahon: Reports of a tornado in the Channahon, Minooka area unconfirmed Tuesday evening

LocalLit book review: ‘Joy and Fear: The Beatles, Chicago and the 1960s’: Joliet Junior College professor examines the impact of #TheBeatles against the backdrop of Chicago

Scholarship recipients in the Diocese of Joliet get a financial boost: Kazma Family Foundation is increasing its 4-year scholarships by $2,000 each 

Tricia Simpson, Hollywood Casino Joliet receive philanthropic awards: People for Channahon Parks Foundation partnered with ExxonMobil to recognize individuals and businesses

8 ways to help the hungry in September: Village of Plainfield co-hosting community-wide food drive with other area organizations

Joliet homeless shelter receives $20,000 donation: Rotary Club of New Lenox held golf outing to raise the money

Joliet Public Library hosting a blues concert on Saturday - and a special offer for new patrons

Coal City native serving on Navy ship built with steel from the World Trade Center: Petty Officer 3rd Class Danielle Good was just 3 years old at the time of the attacks

LocalLit book review: Mokena author delivers novel of heroism inspired by 9/11: ‘A Dangerous Freedom’ captures lasting impact of events 20 years ago

Tornado warning for Will County

Illustration by Matt Coundiff for "Visage."

Sue's Diner: Italian Herb Monkey Bread with Garlic Olive Oil

 This week's recipe is called "Italian Herb Monkey Bread with Garlic Olive Oil" and my daughter Sarah Stegall created it

This recipe appears in the BryonySeries cookbook: Memories in the Kitchen: Bites and Nibbles from "Bryony," which is a permament fundraiser for Big Brothers Big Sisters of Will and Grundy Counties.

The recipe is referenced in the novel Bryony, where the protagonist, a 1970s teen named Melissa Marchellis, enounters it at a potluck memorial luncheon for her grandmother.

You can try our modified recipe on the Sue's Diner page on the BryonySeries website.

But try the recipe this week. It will be gone some time next week. A new recipe will take it's place. 

By the way, Sue's Diner is only real in the BryonySeries world. But didn't Timothy do a great job making the page look like a real menu at a vintage diner?

Here is the full diner page: bryonyseries.com/sue-s-diner. You can't really order, of course (wouldn't it be great if you could?).

For more BryonySeries recipes, check out our three cookbooks at our BryonySeries bryonyseries.com/general-store.

What child would enjoy playing with this?

Post-Labor Day Reflection

For those who just came off a long weekend - it felt good to take time off, didn't it?

For those who worked through the weekend - I hope you get time off soon, too.

For all of us: please remember that every convenience we enjoy is the result of someone else's work.

Every single one.

We are so blessed, aren't we?

And, yes, Christmas is just around the corner...

The Goodies - Working The Line

Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (FULL)

Midnight Apprentice

In honor of Labor Day, I'm sharing an excerpt from the BryonySeries novel Staked! that gives a slightly (emphasis on the "slightly") exaggerated look at the what delivering newspapers seven days a week in the middle of the night looks like.

With more and more publications making the transition to web only, this excerpt gives you a rare look at an entire industry that will someday be no more, an industry in which my entire family and I used to work.

What makes this piece especially fun is that the main character, John-Peter Simotes, is completely fictional, and his "Uncle Ed" is not.

For the back story of how that actually came to be, check out my Calkins Day Address from 2020.

John-Peter wearily pulled the pallet jack down the row of hastily assembled plywood work tables in the large warehouse, neatly dodging the zombie-like carrier pushing a shopping cart of newspapers toward an exit to load into vehicles. Despite the service doors opening into the night, the air hung heavy and lifeless with the overwhelming heat and humidity the building effectively trapped by day. It had been a long, laborious week, not one filled with the reading and relaxation.

            At the dinner table Monday night, Kellen had unveiled a list of chores for John-Peter to complete that week at the Happy Hunting Grounds funeral home because Kellen’s secretary was on vacation. None of the tasks were difficult, only time consuming. John-Peter had spent the last three days filing and running brochure orders to and from the local printer, as well as tearing apart and cleaning the display cases before refilling them with souvenirs and then carefully dusting the enormous picture of Agnes Scofield, the first client of Happy Hunting Grounds. Kellen had once told John-Peter that Agnes, a ninety-three year old resident of Jenson Nursing home, had given Kellen the permission of feasting on her blood in exchange for being forever immortalized as "the first."

            Tomorrow, John-Peter would return to Thornton with his mother for a physical—two physicals to be exact—before beginning school on Monday. Then John-Peter could only help Uncle Ed on weekends and school holidays. Between running newspapers with Uncle Ed by night and helping Kellen by day, John-Peter had not read anymore of Grandma Marchellis’ diary. Any free time he had acquired, whether at home or riding in the car, was spent in sleep.

            “Hey, John-Peter!” a large, burly man called from across the aisle. “I didn’t get my Thornton Times!”

            “Count?”

            The man stretched his tight and faded blue T-shirt over his hefty belly, trying to cover the last inch of skin and failing. “Thirteen.”

            John-Peter handed them to the man who belched in reply. He couldn’t blame the carrier, or any of the other drivers, for being grouchy tonight. Their boss, Joe Reece, had tucked a policy change into their paycheck envelopes stipulating that only a certain number and colors of bags would be distributed. If carriers required more than that amount, the cost would be deducted from the next week’s pay.

            That move prompted Uncle Ed to express his displeasure with a limerick:

 

            There once was a cheap boss named Reece

            Whose supplies to carriers decreased

            When the carriers cried, “Foul!”

            Reece spat as he howled,

            “I’ll make you share one sleeve apiece!”

           

            “Someday,” Ed said, leaning close to John-Peter and dropping his voice, “people will refer to cheap acts as ‘doing a Reece.’”

            No negative situation existed where Uncle Ed could not compose an appropriate limerick.

            “The limerick is the most superior kind of poem,” Uncle Ed had often him. “Not only can people pronounce it, they can remember it and it flows freely from the tongue. This sort of poetry works in two ways. The words I say create fear in others, fear of how they will be remembered. This fear then promotes a willingness in your enemy to compromise, to confront you in more friendly terms, or maybe to ally with you.”

             But if Joe Reece, or anyone else for that matter, cowered in terror before Ed Calkins, he never showed it. Even the carriers themselves rarely expressed the respect and appreciation John-Peter felt was due Ed for his hard work.

            Ed printed and sorted route books, oversaw the unloading and distribution of entire truckloads of products, including bag shipments and fifteen different publications totaling over ten thousand newspapers. In addition, Ed fielded complaints, dispensed bags, retrieved and carried garbage to the dumpsters, and swept the warehouse. This was in addition to his regular, carrier responsibilities. Ed delivered newspapers to the outlying and remote areas no driver wanted to touch, including Munsonville.

            On school days, if John-Peter rose early, he'd grab a jug of water and sprint barefoot down to Main Street under the early morning sun, just in time to catch Ed Calkins filling the newspaper boxes outside Sue’s Diner. If Ed had a few minutes to spare, which he always seemed to have, he'd share an Irish joke, adjust John-Peter’s leprechaun, and point to John-Peter’s watch.

             “Bet you can’t say ‘Irish wristwatch’ ten times.”

            And John-Peter could, every time.

            “John-Peter, if you want to make an Irishman laugh on a Monday, tell him a joke on a Friday.”

            “John-Peter, while at the wake of his atheist friend, the Irishman said, ‘Poor lad. All dressed up with no place to go.'"

            “John-Peter, do you know it takes four Irishmen to change a light bulb? One removes it from the socket and the other three remark, ‘What a grand, old light bulb it was!’”

            If Ed was running late, he’d acknowledge John-Peter’s existence with a jovial nod before he dropped the bundles at the machine, fully expecting John-Peter to fill them.

            John-Peter, of course, always did. He understood newspaper deadlines. He had grown up with them. His father, Professor Simotes, not Kellen, had delivered a country route under Uncle Ed’s authority. John-Peter not only accompanied John on the route, he helped prepare the papers for delivery and consulted the route book when his father had a question about the location of an obscure address, a delivery instruction or code, or which combination of publications a particular customer might receive.

            The problem? John-Peter did not remember any of it.

            He had been too young, a tender twenty months of age when the professor had died. His memories of the newspaper business centered around Uncle Ed, who was not really his uncle, but a man who had been a good friend, as well as the boss, of John Simotes.

            Ed seriously undertook his news agency responsibilities, even referring to himself as a “ruthless dictator” who expected compliance within his ranks, although he rarely obtained it. The carriers snatched extra newspapers from the pallets, invented excuses for customer complaints, and stole inserts, hooks, and bags from each other’s stations. Never did one week pass without a carrier calling Ed with a crisis of why he could not deliver his route that night, and could Ed please do it?

            And of course Ed did, while hard at work composing a penalty limerick, which that said carrier would hear upon walking in the warehouse door the following night. However, Ed did not limit his control tactics to mere verse. No new carrier slipped through the ranks without at least one request to sign Ed Calkins’ petition. Ed’s birthday fell between Abraham Lincoln’s birthday and Valentine’s Day, a fact significant enough, Ed felt, to warrant a three-day national holiday.

            “The time will come when everyone around the world will eagerly anticipate the Ed Calkins Day parade,” Ed always said, beaming, as he pressed both paper and pen into the hesitant carrier’s hands.

            In the meantime, Ed himself offered the joys and excitement of his parade to the elite crowd fortunate enough to deliver newspapers in the middle of the night from the Jenson warehouse.

            For as long as John-Peter could remember, he celebrated each February thirteen watching a carrier pull Uncle Ed through the building on the pallet jack, one John-Peter had decorated with green streamers and balloons for the occasion, while an exuberant Ed waved to his constituents with one hand and tossed bite-sized, wrapped pieces of candies from the other one toward the work stations.

            So although John-Peter had no time to read the diary this past week, he could and he did spend much time reflecting upon what he had read as he busied himself with his required duties.

            Had Grandma Marchellis really lived part of her life inside Simons Mansion or was the entry simply the ramblings of a demented mind? Surely if she'd had a connection to the musician, his mother, grandparents, or even Kellen would have mentioned it. Besides, who knew if her son Frank even had read it? Grandma Marchellis chronicled the tale in her personal diary. Maybe she went completely senile before she shared it with Frank.

             “John-Peter! Where’s my Detroit Daily News?”

            “In transport.”

            “Late again?”

            “Afraid so, Dave.”

            John-Peter dragged the jack back to the dock. He had nothing left to disperse until the final truck arrived for the night. He closed his fingers around the leprechaun before heading toward Uncle Ed’s work station.

            With lightening speed, Ed bagged the Jenson Reporters for a carrier who took his year old daughter to the emergency room last night. Eyes down at his work, Ed said to John-Peter, “Stuff all the papers for Munsonville, and bundle my papers for Sue’s Diner.”

             John-Peter refilled his jug from the water fountain and then went in search of an empty grocery cart. He found one overturned near Joe’s office, in front of the rusted, dented metal shelves holding back issues of the previous week’s publications. The cart worked better than he had guessed. Its handle only slightly wiggled and three of the wheels actually rolled.

            He stacked the newspapers from Ed’s work area into the cart and dragged the load to the strapping machine. Three other carriers stood in line to belt their store drops. One short, round woman fidgeted with growing impatience.

            “Hurry it up, Kurt. You’re not the only dang carrier in this building.”

            But Kurt ignored her and continued strapping bundles with a steady pace. Soon the metered beep-beep of a truck’s back-up alarm broke into the carriers’ low, rumbling chatter.

            “’Bout time,” groused a tall, thin man as he scratched under his scraggly, bronze beard. “Gotta go to work this mornin’. Boss said if I’m late again he’ll can me.”

            John-Peter wondered if John Simons ever paid that promised visit to Grandma Marchellis. If he did, John-Peter doubted the musician entered through the front door. He believed the story of the magic music box. He might even have seen it.

            Ed tugged a pallet jack full of Detroit Daily News bundles past John-Peter as the boy strapped the last bundle.

             “John-Peter! Get that cart back to the station and help me get these Detroits passed.”

             “Affirmed, sir.”

            Carriers swarmed the dock and Ed’s pallet, opening bundles and grabbing stacks of papers, heedless of Ed’s loud orders to wait their turns. Joe Reece charged five dollars for every newspaper a driver delivered late. John-Peter plopped onto a work table, fished inside his other pocket for an apple, and wished the princess had given it to him. He took a bite and leaned his weary body against the table’s back. As punishment for disregarding his stern commands, Uncle Ed would be tormenting offenders tomorrow morning with a fresh supply of limericks.

            “John-Peter!”

            The boy woke with a start. The apple core lay on the floor. The warehouse was devoid of carriers. Uncle Ed must have already loaded his car because he looked ready to leave.

            The first rays of dawn were breaking through the dark the sky as the pair entered the parking lot. No chance of a nap this morning before he and his mother would leave for Thornton.

            “What time is your appointment?”

             “Eleven-thirty.”

             “Hmm.” Ed frowned and looked at his own green wristwatch. “I’ll hit the country roads later. Let’s deliver Jenson, and then I’ll take you back to Munsonville. You’ll never survive the day without a nap.”

            “Much obliged, Steward, much obliged.”

            With a light heart and a steady supply of apples in his left hand, John-Peter threw newspapers into the driveways of Jenson’s neighborhoods and fumbled for whatever publication Uncle Ed needed with his right. He was glad to skip the country roads. The joggers who inhabited them at three o’clock in the morning made him uneasy. Once, Ed nearly collided with a man who rode his bike straight at Ed’s car. Other carriers might have signaled their anger with a finger or colorful language. Instead, Ed soothed his jangled nerves with a limerick.

           

            O cyclist who rides in the night

            Making sure you’re hidden from sight

            One day you will find

            A driver’s who blind

            Who’ll flatten you without any fight.

           

            “John-Peter, did I ever tell you about the four great treasures of the Tuatha de Danann?”    

            Ed had just reached the part about the endless food supply of the Cauldron of Dagda when he threw two newspapers out the window into the driveway of the house before the stop sign.

            “Wait, Uncle Ed,” John-Peter said, reaching above the visor for the route book. “The Jenson Reporter is a vacation stop.”

            “What about the Thornton Times?”

             “Active, your honor.”

             John-Peter ran across the road to pick up the extra newspaper. Although the sun was now fully up, the absence of traffic made delivering papers almost a joy. After tossing the renegade paper back into the smudged, cracked laundry basket that held its clones, John-Peter, gradually perking up under the brightening sun, grabbed a handful of Munsonville Weeklies.

            “Can’t understand why that newspaper is still in business,” Ed complained. “How much news can that village report in a week?”

             “The Daltons bought a parakeet.”

             “Three more blocks and then we can do the stores. Keep up with me because I want to stop at Eircheard’s Emporium before we go back to Munsonville.”

            “Anything in particular you’re seeking?”

            “Another tin whistle.”

            Ed Calkins saved the pawn shop’s bundle for last, after first pulling off the road to adjust John-Peter’s leprechaun, a pocket-sized creature with a leering face, tiny black eyes glinting below a pair of bushy red eyebrows, and a thatch of wild red hair sliding out from under its tall green hat. In the center of its belly, a series of numbers in the billions spiraled downward. The lull in the action always caused John-Peter to nod off, but he always reawakened feeling as refreshed as if he’d slept the night. By waiting until daybreak to deliver the Eircheard’s Emporium, Ed could be certain that Eircheard himself would have unlocked the front door, prepared the tea, and, if the wizened shopkeeper was feeling particularly ambitious that day, prepared a loaf of warm, Irish soda bread--using vinegar instead of buttermilk and a vegan spread from Brummings in Shelby to top it--out of respect for John-Peter.

            But no whiff of freshly baked bread greeted John-Peter’s nose that morning, only the pungent scent of the tobacco that emitted from Eircheard’s clay pipe. When John-Peter was a small boy, the sight of this leprechaun-like old man intimidated him and became the source of a recurring nightmare. Since early childhood, John-Peter had often dreamed of the shop keeper, sitting on a tree trunk and carving a misshapen piece of wood with a long-handled knife. A series of incantations followed the store owner’s act of jamming the wood into the ground. While Eircheard chuckled in glee, John-Peter’s leering face emerged from the top of the wooden post.

             But the Eircheard’s fearsomeness now only existed in John-Peter’s dreams. Inside the pawn shop, he was simply an old man making a dime from those wanting a quick buck and parting with their possessions to obtain it. The one-room, wood shop was not large, but Eircheard had filled it to bursting with all manner of furniture, knickknacks, clocks, lamps, signs, clothing, wall hangings, books, record albums, toys, dishes, household furnishings, and so forth, all stacked haphazardly and without category consideration.

            “No tin whistles today,” Eircheard said, leaning back in his desk chair, puffing on his pipe, and gesturing to a side table. “But some fellow brought in a whole stack of records. All bagpipe music.”

            Uncle Ed made a dour face and recited:

           

            A pygmy did sit in his chair

            Luring the innocent into his lair

            He said, “Why not you stay

            And buy something today?

            If it’s garbage I really don’t care.”

           

            Eircheard grinned around his pipe and watched Ed weave through the card tables, laden with assorted figurines, plaques, and jewelry, to flip through the albums.

             John-Peter poured a cup of tea, popped his vitamin, and polished off the remnants of yesterday’s bread while Eircheard puffed and watched some more. The boy wished he had topped off his jug before leaving the distribution center. His parched throat screamed for water.

            “Saved the last from yesterday. Had a feeling you gents would stop this morning.”

            “Thankee, Mr. E.”

             Eircheard smiled through the black gaps between his broken teeth. “Anytime.”

            Ed looked up from the stack of records.

            “Want to drive Kellen nuts?”

            “I’ll pass, Uncle Ed.”

            Kellen’s disparaging remarks about classical piano music were the bane of John-Peter’s life. No need to blare bagpipes, too.

            Ed selected three albums and brought them to the counter. Eircheard rose painfully to his feet to ring up Ed’s purchases.

            “That will be five dollars even.”

            “You drive a hard bargain.”

            “Got to keep a roof over my head, same as you.”

            Ed picked up the records and turned to John-Peter, who spread margarine on this third chunk of bread. Three-fourths of the loaf had disappeared into the boy’s growling stomach. “Let’s drop Munsonville, and get you home.”

            “Think Reece will be mad the country route is late?”

            “Not mad enough to find someone else to take it out.”

            The combination of the sun’s glare off the windshield and the warm snack sent waves of sleepiness through John-Peter's numb brain. Twice he nodded into slumber against the window glass before he and Ed reached Munsonville.

            Ed parked his car in front of Sue’s Diner and reached for the newspaper bundle. “You rest. I’ll fill the machines.” In less than five minutes, Ed was turning onto Bass Street over John-Peter’s objections.

A customer wishes the real Ed Calkins best wishes on the very last day of his newspaper route earlier this year.