What to Do When a Genie Sits on the Edge of Your Bed

This is the time of year to wish peace on Earth, a goal and prayer that seems always before us, and “When will we ever learn?” echoes in our minds.

But what if you had a magical chance to change things….?

 

I pondered this question many years ago and was recently asked it again in an interview. As a child, my answer was always simple and the same: I’d wish for a horse.

As I grew older and more sophisticated, I started appreciating the entanglement of the question: What kind of horse? Do I need to use my remaining two wishes for funds to maintain the horse and keep it healthy? How much do I wish for? What if someone I loved got sick, and I had to use a wish to make them well?

In fairy tales, I noted that the first two wishes, though well-intentioned, got the protagonist into hot water of some sort, and the third wish invariably had to be spent rectifying the situation. Very poor decision-making, in my opinion. The same is true in writing, a decision by the characters often takes the story in another direction entirely.

I pondered the problem (because you never know when you might find a genie on the edge of your bed, right?) When the solution came, I was very relieved. I had the answer. I was prepared. The resolution was beautiful in its simplicity and legal soundness: My first wish would be—to be granted three more wishes whenever I used up the other two! Clever, right?

As an adult, I realized that the real lesson of fairy tales was not how to use one’s wishes wisely but that there are always unintended consequences.

Creating more food with less work and loss is a worthy goal, and we have accomplished it. It came about through the use of pesticides that, indeed, resulted in fewer insects but also killed off the beneficial insects along with the pests and introduced sneaky carcinogens into our food chain that, in turn, raised health care costs and cut short the lives that “more food” was supposed to support.

China tried to control its population growth with a one-child limit, which resulted in a significant reduction of female babies (which were seen as less desirable than male children), and now, the country has negative population growth and a problem with too few women available for marriages.

In New Zealand, rabbits were introduced and became a problem, so they brought in stouts (a type of weasel) to eat the rabbits. However, now, the stouts are a threat to the bird population.

In the American South, we are “blessed” with kudzu, a prolific Asian vine imported for cattle grazing. Unfortunately, cattle don’t like it. It will eventually consume the world.

Even wishing for “peace on Earth” could have unintended horrific consequences. Hitler wanted a reign of peace. He just needed to conquer a few countries and wipe out a few peoples first.

This is one of the problems we would/will face if Artificial Intelligence (AI) were tasked with such a goal and could make real-world changes. Imagine what lengths it would go to ensure “peace!” We might be stripped of the ability to speak freely or even interact or force-fed the “blue pills” [The Matrix] to remain in contented ignorance. Freedom and safety have always been a matter of delicate balance.

That said, I admit I would be sorely tempted to use a wish to bring about peace on Earth. But it would require a well-thought-out document with a team of lawyers and futurists! Even then, we know what happens to the best-laid plans of mice and men….

Happy Holidays to All!

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Happy Holidays!

Last Post by Dru Ann

Thank you guys for letting me participate on The Stiletto Gang blog. It’s been a wonderful experience and I’ve learned a lot from all the authors in this group.

My last blog post and I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays! Happy New Year! and I wish you a prosperous and successful 2025.

 

Dru Ann Love
dru’s book musings

I found joy – as a jellyfish (and other aquatic animals)

As the year draws to a close, I thought I would share with you a bit about my self-care journey. This article, originally published in The Globe and Mail, explores how I ended up on a yoga mat, twisted, inverted, and smiling.

yoga/meditation

There were several occasions in the last three decades when I took a yoga class, four by my latest count. Nothing stuck for more than 60 minutes. Now I’m on the mat (as we, ahem, like to say) four or five times a week.

Not sure what happened between decades three and four, but here I am today in my 60s actively seeking out a yoga flow class, searching YouTube for restorative practice and talking retreats with new-found friends. I have blocks, straps, pillows, bolsters, blankets and mats in many colours, designs and grips. I even have a plastic frog in full lotus. Truth is, I have a yoga room.

I’m not an exercise person. I have never had the desire to scale mountains, ski down or hike mountainous terrain. I’m equally averse to water aerobics: surfing, paddling, polo. Give it all the cool names you want – finswimming, aquajogging, wakeskating – and I’m staying on terra firma.

Fact is, I’d rather have an enema than exercise.

Actually, that was the old me. The new me would rather do a downward dog.

I’m not sure which came first – not being good at sports or not being interested in sports. They are indelibly intertwined, like chicken and egg or the yoga pose eagle arms and legs (which I can do).

Regardless, here I am, sports unenthusiast. I want to be healthy. What I’ve never wanted is to work at being healthy because it’s boring and hard (so I had come to believe). Yet, periodically I would propel myself to some gym, some piece of equipment, or even some yoga mat to get my body in shape.
In the case of yoga, that lasted for a full 240 minutes over 30 years. (In the case of lifting weights, running on the treadmill, aquacise, the number is much, much lower.)

The turning point in my yoga journey, it turned out, was around the corner from where I live. An instructor started renting studio space in a new building, and my aunt and I decided to give it a try. We liked it. We really liked it.

I’m not sure why. It may be the variety of poses we learned, that each class was new and different, that we got to know participants. But I had all that before. The reason, I discovered, is not important. The reality is.

At some point, actually several points, my body responded in ways it never had before. My feet touched the mat, both of them, when I did a downward dog; my hands (both of them) held each other doing a bound side angle.

I also noticed a marked improvement in my knee. My doctor had diagnosed a tear in my meniscus and wished me well. When I couldn’t complete a yoga pose because of it, an instructor recommended putting something like a sock between my knee and my bent leg. It worked. As I spent more time on the mat, I used the sock less and less. Today, I get no complaints from my knee, and use socks only to cover my feet.

It wasn’t only my knee that got better. My strength, my balance and my flexibility improved.

Perspective changes on the mat. There is a common yoga pose called child’s pose. You put thighs on calves, buttocks on heels, and fold yourself into a ball. It’s supposed to be a resting position, one you come to after other poses have offended your body in ways you didn’t know existed. For most of us, child’s pose is, at first, the farthest thing from a rest primarily because there is a wide gap between our bottom and our heels. Most of us accommodate, as yoga teaches us. We shove bolsters, blankets and blocks under our rear to close the gap. Still a faint wisp of failure lingers.

I’m in an extended child’s pose during one class and realize I’m enjoying this fetal shape. I am relaxed, breathing deeply, and feeling something new: contentment. I tried to figure out what had shifted and realized, in part, the answer was physical. My rear end was not pointed heavenward; it was nestled on my feet. I was a ball without the need of a bolster.

There are those poses that continue to confound. My legs refuse to rearrange themselves into a lotus, although they are inching closer. Crow pose eludes me. Both feet refuse to come off the floor, but one will, so I’m making progress. And there are those poses I have yet to attempt. Their names will tell you why: formidable face pose, handstand scorpion, destroyer of the universe.

Overall, however, I find a sense of peace and contentment in many poses and in my practice. Indeed, I find more than this. Yoga has taught me that practice is about more than positioning the body. It is about body, mind and spirit. It is about connecting with yourself. It is about finding balance. It is about going to the edge, but not over the cliff. It is about acknowledging growth and recognizing limitations. It is about joy. The joy that comes from sitting on a mat with your heels stuffed into your bottom and your heart soaring.

Ultimately yoga has taught me patience and acceptance. The fundamental reality of any practice is this: yoga teachers cannot count. They put you in a pose, say warrior II, then they suggest you place your right shoulder against your inner thigh while extending your left arm toward the ceiling, bending your elbow, bringing your left arm behind you, and clasping your right hand. It’s like scrubbing the floor while looking at mold on the ceiling.

I can actually do this. And I can hear my yoga instructor saying, “Hold for three breaths,” just before launching into a tale about their morning drive to work. Three minutes later – not three breaths – we unbind and unbend. All yoga teachers are trained to do this.

When instructors tell you to hold for five breaths – a lifetime when your hips are squared, your shoulders flexed, and your legs interwoven – they are lying. Admittedly, they are well intended. Some even come with timers, beacons of false hope.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. I am on the mat, moving in sync with my breath, finding my body moving with me (or against me) and I’m okay with that. I have learned the challenging poses – lizard, dolphin, fish – are friends. We meet here on this rectangular piece of vinyl, and I take pieces of them with me when I roll up my mat, put away my straps and head out the door.

The joy of having been for a time an aquatic animal infuses and informs. It is so much more than legs splayed, ankles nestled, arms extended. And holding for five delicious breaths.

Ish.

A Few Favorite Books by Saralyn Richard

May be an image of 4 people, Christmas stocking and text

 

I’m often asked about favorite books, and I consider that an unfair question for someone who reads as much as I do. Practically every book I read is my favorite when I’m immersed in its world, identifying with its characters. I truly have hundreds of favorite books that have touched me at different times in my life.

I love to read various “year’s best books” lists, and I’m delighted when one of mine makes someone’s list. Thanks to Hungry for Good Books, MURDER OUTSIDE THE BOX, is one of the top mysteries of 2024. I’m honored and thrilled.

And if you’re like me, the most fun post-holiday chill-event is reading great books. Here are a few of the MANY books I’ve enjoyed and recommend at this time of year.

I would start with A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. I love all of Irving’s novels and all 54.0his quirky characters, but I could read this book over and over again and find new bits of cleverness each time. Beneath Irving’s sometimes preposterous plot events lie an impressive bedrock of commentary about the absurdity of life and the relationships that make it all worthwhile.

 

The second book I would choose is Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese. Verghese was a protegee of John Irving, and this book, while telling an amazing story of its own, can be read as a tribute to Irving’s body of work. Indeed, there are nods to Irving throughout that bring knowing smiles to those of us who catch them.

 

Next, I would re-read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. Kingsolver manages writing in multiple points of view more skillfully than any other writer I can think of. The family of a missionary in Africa during turbulent political times experiences many physical and emotional hardships and deprivations. We see these through different lenses, so the resulting picture is much like that of a kaleidoscope, sometimes beautiful, sometimes horrifying, but always changing.

 

Finally, I would read William Kent Krueger’s Ordinary Grace. This book nails it all. It’s a compelling mystery that unfolds itself with extraordinary wisdom at every turn. Its characters and the situations they are in are hauntingly familiar and yet fresh and fascinating.

 

However you’re celebrating and whatever you’re reading this season, I’m sending my very best wishes to you and yours.

 

Calling All Black Utensils – Or Else!

Calling All Black Utensils – Or Else! by Debra H. Goldstein

Do you have any black plastic spatulas, spoons, or ladles lurking in your kitchen? New research shows that they may cause cancer, hormone and thyroid problems, neurobehavioral and development problems in children, and interference with reproductive and immune systems. The causation factor is the possibility for toxic flame retardants (decabromodiphenyl ether – decaBDE) to contaminate your food when you cook with them. Consequently, the scientific conclusion is that you should throw all of them out.

Most of the spatulas, spoons, and ladles in my kitchen drawers were the dangerous black kind. One friend said that because of the way I function in a kitchen –I only occasionally used a few and some never, I didn’t have to worry. Still, I threw my darling spatulas, spoons, and ladles out.

Why?

Better to be safe than sorry.

Sometimes, the same thing holds true in writing. Often extra words contaminate our thoughts as we transfer them to paper or the computer screen. If our work in progress is to be safe and healthy, we must, no matter how much we like them, prune the words. It isn’t easy, but it is a matter of necessity for the successful survival of the piece we are writing.

Have you thrown out your black plastic kitchen utensils? If you are a reader, have you found pieces that are perched precariously because of an overabundance of “bad” words? If an author, can you make the necessary cuts for the health of your writing? Or, in all cases, will you be overcome by the harmful substance you cannot see?

5 Tips for Finding Reading Time During the Busy Holiday Season

The holidays are a magical time of year, but they can also be overwhelmingly busy! Between shopping, decorating, cooking, and attending festive events, it’s easy to feel like there’s no time for yourself—let alone for reading. But if you’re a book lover like me, you know how important it is to sneak in those quiet moments with a great story. Here are five tips to help you carve out reading time during the holiday rush.

 

1. Start Your Day with a Chapter
Set your alarm 15 minutes earlier to enjoy a peaceful start to your day with a book. Pair it with your morning coffee or tea to create a calming ritual that helps you ease into the day.

2. Carry a Book Everywhere
Whether it’s a paperback, e-reader, or audiobook on your phone, having a book with you means you can read during those unexpected pockets of time—waiting in line, during your commute, or between holiday errands.

3. Replace Screen Time with Reading Time
The endless scroll can wait. Dedicate a portion of your evening, even if it’s just 10-20 minutes, to putting down your devices and picking up a book.

4. Embrace Audiobooks
Holiday prep doesn’t have to come at the expense of your TBR pile. Turn on an audiobook while baking cookies, wrapping presents, or decorating your home. It’s multitasking at its finest!

5. Schedule a Cozy Reading Break
Block off time in your calendar for a dedicated reading session. Whether it’s an hour by the fireplace or 30 minutes with a warm blanket and a cup of cocoa, treat it like any other important holiday appointment.

Now that you have these tips, why not put them to good use with a festive mystery? My newest release, A Corpse Among the Carolers, A Food Blogger Mystery, is a Christmas-themed cozy mystery packed with holiday cheer, twisty clues, and plenty of suspense. It’s the perfect book to curl up with during this busy season—or to give as a gift to the mystery lover in your life.

You can order your copy now from Amazon or Barnes & Noble, and don’t forget to treat yourself to some well-earned reading time this holiday season. Happy holidays and happy reading!

 

Debra Sennefelder is the author of the Food Blogger Mystery series and the Resale Boutique Mystery series. She lives and writes in Connecticut. When she’s not writing, she enjoys baking, exercising and taking long walks with her Shih-Tzu, Connie. You can keep in touch with Debra through her website, on Facebook and Instagram.

 

 

Grateful for You!

Libations Fit for a King

Libations Fit for a King by Saralyn Richard

Who’s up for some amazing libations at an exclusive party?

The dictionary definition of “libation” is “a drink poured out as a ritual offering to a deity.” (Oxford Dictionary, Oxford University Press). Sometimes libations were given as an offering to a god or spirit, often in memory of those who have passed on. Pouring libations was a common practice in many religions of antiquity, and it continues to be performed in various cultures today.

This is very likely where the ceremony of toasting before drinking alcoholic beverages derives from.

In Murder in the One Percent, the characters attend a birthday party at a mansion in the horse country of Pennsylvania. That Saturday night, they dine from an elegant nine-course menu with wines selected for their best years and perfectly matched to each course.

We would expect nothing less from the wealthy and powerful hosts in the one percent, right?

Just for fun, I priced the wines being served, using 2018 and 2024 market quotes. Following are the prices per bottle:

Champagne Krug, 2000  $225 /$597

Chablis Grand Cru Les Clos, 1990  $350 /$1929

Sauternes Chateau d’Yquem, 1990   $265 /$511

Corton Charlemagne Grand Cru, 2006  $125 /$235

Richebourg Leroy, 1991                  $3122 /$7957

Chateau Lafitte Rothschild, 1982    $2400 /$3625

Graham’s Vintage Port                     $139 /$159

Hennessy Paradia Cognac               $693 /$1360

 

That adds up to a hefty $7319 /$16,373 for just one bottle of each. Knowing these characters as I do, they would consume at least two and probably three bottles during the party, bringing the cost of libations to a whopping $21,957 /$49,119.

No wonder the guests had such a fun time at that dinner party! They ate and drank like royalty and went to bed happy. Too bad the next day, one of them woke up dead.

 

Saralyn Richard writes about the one percent in the Detective Parrott mystery series:  MURDER IN THE ONE PERCENT, A PALETTE FOR LOVE AND MURDER, CRYSTAL BLUE MURDER, and MURDER OUTSIDE THE BOX. Neither she nor Detective Parrott occupy a place in the one percent, however.

 

Location, location, location

Where your characters live, work, and solve mysteries can be central to the story. Or not. I’ve discovered that location is not a requirement or an irrelevancy. It is a spectrum.


At one end of the spectrum, location is essential.

As a result, you spend time bringing that location to life, making it real, and of real interest to readers. This requires knowing whereof you write or researching whereof you write. Or both. My latest book, a historical mystery entitled Conflagration!, is based on the real-life story of Marie-Joseph Angélique, an enslaved Black woman accused of burning the lower town of Montreal to the ground in 1734. Montreal as a place and as a community is intertwined with the plot and the characters, fictional and otherwise. As a result, I had to immerse myself in a time and place that no longer exist.

Move further along the location spectrum and you’ll arrive here: the location could be anywhere.

The town, island, futuristic community where your characters go about their daily lives is woven into the story but not predetermined. It’s up to you. You may choose a place that is familiar, that fits within the theme of the book, or simply resonates with you.

My first mystery book Hung Out to Die introduces Riel Brava to readers. Riel is originally from Santa Barbara but now living in Nova Scotia, which is where I live. Fact is, Riel could have been uprooted to almost any location where cannabis production is legal. (Riel is CEO of the Canadian Cannabis Corporation. He’s also a psychopath (not the nasty kind), but we’ll save that for another blog.) I chose Nova Scotia because I know this location. Less research would be required, but I also have a deeper connection to this place because it is my place. Many readers have told me how the book feels so much like Nova Scotia. That was not intentional, but it reflects a knowledge of place that goes beyond street maps, tourist locations, and Yelp reviews.

Finally, we reach the other end of the spectrum: place is irrelevant.

Indeed, a specific geographical location may not be necessary. I wrote a short story called “Moist,” that for the most part takes place in the main character’s home. Where that home is situated doesn’t matter.

After the story was published, there was a call for stories for a new anthology Santa Cruz Ghost Stories. I reached out to the editor to explain that my story wasn’t really set anywhere so it could be set in Santa Cruz. She agreed. Minor changes were made (like changing Canadian spelling to American (“savour” became “savor”) and using the name of a dollar store Santa Cruz residents would easily recognize.)

Ultimately, location is about character. The two go hand in hand.

donalee Moultondonalee Moulton is the author of Conflagration! — a historical mystery that won the 2024 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense (Historical Fiction). Her other books include a mystery novel based in Nova Scotia, Hung Out To Die,  and a non-fiction book about effective communication, The Thong Principle: Saying What You Mean and Meaning What You Say. As a freelance journalist, donalee has written for over 100 publications across North America. You can catch up with her on XFacebookInstagram, and LinkedIn.