Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 11-16-18

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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Kathy Armstrong Pudil, one of this year's Honorable Mention writers in the 14th Annual Write a DearReader Contest. Reading Kathy's story reminded me of times in my own life, when naivete has allowed me to experience some of my most magical opportunities.

Thanks for entering the contest Kathy. You wrote a wonderful story.

The Least of These

I think his name was Joe. Or maybe it was Homer. Or maybe it was Joe Homer. How I even ran across him wandering out in the back of our two-acre property, I don't remember. Where exactly did he come from? Or where did he plan to go? A ten-year-old mind doesn't ask the important questions. Instead, my naivete must've caught him off guard.

It was Sunday afternoon, after a sermon that morning on giving food or drink or clothing "unto the least of these," along with "entertaining angels unawares." I had no fear, knew no danger, and was a big-hearted kid, especially for downtrodden souls.

He was scruffy, gray, shaggy, dusty, and weary. How did I know he was harmless?

"What do you need?" I asked him.

"Well, I haven't had a shower or a meal recently," he replied.

"We can help with that," I said. "Hey, Mom?"

Thus ensued a private side-conversation with my mom and dad. "It's just like the sermon this morning. If we are like Jesus, we should help him with whatever he needs, however we can." My enthusiasm was not to be undone by their conservative concerns. "So we can help him, right?"

Although I sensed the apprehension they felt, I didn't let up. I continued to give them all the reasons why we should help this guy out. "If we've done it to the least of these, then we've done it to Jesus, right?"

They finally relented. Joe took a shower in the upstairs bathroom while Mom and I made him a pack of food to take on the road: bread, cheese, crackers, peanut butter, bologna.

His transformation was shocking. From the grayish, dusty, bushy figure he was when he walked up, to the slicked back, clean and shiny-faced, much younger man that came out of the bathroom, we were all in wonder. Mom, Daddy, my two sisters and I fluttered around him like moths to a porch light at night.

The leftover roast, potatoes, and carrots had been rewarmed in a saucepan on the stove. He gratefully enjoyed these ravenously and wiped his mouth and chin with a paper napkin when he was done.

I wonder what was in his head when he walked away from our house that day. I wonder if he even knew why we did it. I can't remember if he even said thank you. He probably did. But it doesn't matter. The good feeling we had for helping him, that warm fuzzy feeling for doing the right thing even when it's not easy--that stays with a person long after the day is done. Long after the years have passed.

And looking back, I realize the true angel of the day was my mother--she had to clean up the muddy bathroom, towels, rug, and countertop after he left!

Kathy Armstrong Pudil
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-15-18

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Dear Reader,

Over the next three weeks I'll be featuring some Honorable Mention columns from this year's Write a DearReader Contest. I was truly amazed at the quality of writing readers submitted this year. People put their hearts and souls into their writing. It was very difficult for me to choose winners. Congratulations to every single person who took the challenge and entered the contest. Thank you for sharing your stories. It was a privilege to read them.

Today I'm featuring the Honorable Mention story that Jacqueline Paulson submitted to this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Jacqueline's story is the inspiration for one of my own future columns, because her story inspired me to do something I don't ordinarily do. I really enjoyed reading Jacqueline's story and I think you will, too.

Congratulations Jacqueline Paulson...

I bought my first house when I was 26 years old. At the time I was in love with almost everything about it...except for the elderly lady who lived immediately north of my property.

Every morning and afternoon when I would let my dog out, she would either stand in her doorway watching us, or come down the back steps of her home to stare. Because my dog barked constantly (and shrilly), I assumed she was expressing her displeasure at his noisiness, and would usually call him inside after only a few minutes, muttering under my breath.

We continued in this manner for months, until one day when I left him outside a little longer than usual. When I hurried to the back door to bring him inside, I saw her standing in her driveway, staring at my dog over the fence that separated us.

"Pasja!" I shouted, but of course he ignored me and continued to bark at her frantically. Telling myself I would just shrug off whatever criticism she leveled at him, I hurried outside, rushed over to him and grabbed him by the collar.

"Please don't take him inside," she said.

"I'm sorry?" I stared at her.

"He's such a beautiful dog," she told me. "Every time you let him out, I want to give him a treat, but I never get the chance." She smiled at me. "You always take him in too quickly.Do you mind if I give him one now?"

"Of course not," I said.

She immediately came over to the fence to give him a dog biscuit, which he stopped barking long enough to eat and then began barking again.

"My son got them for me," she said. "I told him about your dog."

It was the beginning of a long friendship for us, that lasted more than 7 years. I would go to her house almost daily, and we would talk about the neighbors, her grandchildren, and most of all, birds. Louise knew the name of every bird that came to our backyards, and could tell me all about their habits and what they liked to eat. I had never really been interested in birds before, but after learning about them from her, I have watched and loved them ever since.

When Louise passed away six years later, her son and daughter gave me the painting she had always had hanging in her kitchen, of two male scarlet tanagers courting a female tanager. They said it was because of all of the time I had spent in that kitchen with her under that painting, keeping her company.

"I know what they are, too," I told them, tearfully. "Thanks to your mother."

This spring, almost 20 years later, I saw a scarlet tanager in my backyard for the very first time. Of course, I thought of Louise, and I thought of how much I still miss her. Louise gave me two priceless gifts. One was a lifelong appreciation of, and love for, birds. The other was the knowledge that friendship has no barriers, except for the ones we create in our own minds.

Jacqueline Paulson
Honorable Mention
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise these titles deserve your attention:

(Thriller)
THE PRIZE by Geoffrey M. Cooper

(Fiction)
PROTECTED by Lexi Blake

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-14-18

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Dear Reader,

Please say hello and welcome today's guest author Carolanne Miljavac. You'll learn more about Carolanne at the end of her guest column, but for right now, let's get right to it...

Hope & Laughter

A family of four sat in the floor tears running down their cheeks. The light of the flickering candles bounced off the water falling from their face to their feet. I know what you must think. But this isn't a picture painted of a family without peace. No. This is a family capable of laughter regardless of all their grief.

My mom may have worked two or three jobs at a time, but it didn't keep us out of poverty. We spent many nights making the most of our life without lights. We lit candles, we played games, and we laughed ourselves to tears. When the water was cut off and we had to bathe, brush, and flush using gallon jugs of water from granny's house...we laughed in the car there and back. Behind the trailer walls you could find us sitting around a tiny pop up table in the kitchen struggling to eat our Ramen noodles without choking. Almost every meal entailed my mama laughing so hard she couldn't breathe or eat. She'd yell at my brother and I to go to our room until we could stop being so funny. Times were a never ending highway of hard, but we could always giggle over a game of cards.

I believe with all my heart that laughter is a gift. It's a sliver of distraction from whatever struggle you're facing. It's a reminder that you are ok. Laughter provides momentary relief from your disaster. I've been asked many times what gives me hope.

My answer is laughter. As long as I'm capable of laughter, there's hope for joy in my future. It carries me through hard times, and it will carry you too. Keep smiling no matter what you're going through.

--Carolanne Miljavac

Email [email protected] There are six copies of Odd(ly) Enough for six lucky readers at the book club.

About the author, Carolanne writes...

Carolanne Miljavac is a southern-raised, Jesus-saved, barely sane author of a new release Odd(ly) Enough, a speaker, and social media goofball. She is married to such a lucky man, and mother to three sweet, loving, kind little girls who only whine EVERY now and then. Poverty and abuse were tough to overcome, Carolanne now has over 100 million video views and nearly half a million social media followers. A true reflection of "beauty for ashes," Carolanne has become the go-to girl for a good laugh, motivation, loving truths, and vulnerability. She pulls heartstrings while tapping funny bones with a message of freedom and revelation. Her purpose in life is to spread love and joy without sacrificing honesty.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

* This month's Penguin Classics book is THE BOOK OF EMMA REYES: A MEMOIR, by Emma Reyes. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.

Dear Reader Column 11-13-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

The Classics are here. Enjoy this month's Penguin Classic, The Book of Emma Reyes: a Memoir, by Emma Reyes, and enter to win your own copy of the book. To start reading, click here.

Thanksgiving influences my thoughts during the entire month of November. Once a day, I do my best to spend time thinking about family and friends that I'm thankful for, and why. Some of my thoughts are from days gone by, people that are no longer here, but I'm so thankful they were part of my life. And one of those "give-thanks-you-were-a-part-of-my-life" memories is from four years ago about a furry friend, who brought an immense amount of joy and love into my life...

The neighbors left him behind eight years ago when they moved, which wasn't a good thing, but when he started coming to our doorstep, my husband and I fell in love with him--and a sweet, noble, gray, long-haired Papa became our cat--and that was a beautiful thing.

Papa was used to living outdoors, not surprising, we live in warm and sunny Florida. Sometimes when my husband and I would walk around the block in our neighborhood, Papa would see us and run alongside us in the grass. Papa wanted to live outside, but when the sun went down, every night I'd start looking through the long window in our side porch door, and soon I'd see Papa's face through the glass, and hear his sweet little whimper, "I'm here, open the door."

Papa would race into the house and head straight for the kitchen. A bowl of dry food was on the floor, but Papa would sit tall and give me the, "Where's the canned turkey and gravy?" look. He'd eat a little turkey and gravy and then he wanted me to pick him up, give him a good rub, and "Burp!" Every time, without fail, Papa would let out a huge burp--and then it was time to eat some more. He'd hang around for some brushing, more rubbing, a feisty roll in a little catnip, and a couple of hours later he was ready to head back outdoors. "Come back tomorrow Papa." It was our routine until yesterday.

It was such a shock when I walked outside to pick up our morning paper. I saw a cat on the other side of the street laying still on the side of the road, and instantly I knew it was Papa. I called out for my husband and he ran to Papa's side. The accident must have just happened. His body and fur still felt like Papa. Thankfully, he died instantly. My husband was crying as he carried Papa back to our house. I've never seen my husband cry for so long. He just kept repeating, "Papa, Papa," while he dug a grave in our backyard. I wrapped Papa in one of my favorite aprons, and when my husband was digging the grave he found one of our grandkids' superhero figures in the dirt, and right away my husband said he was going to bury the superhero with Papa to keep him safe. I know it sounds crazy, but it was a comforting thought, and we did.

I felt a little calmer mid-day, but then when the sun went down I started checking the door just like I always do. I know Papa was "just a cat" (as a lot of people think), but my husband and I are so sad to have lost such a good friend. I've decided to just let myself cry, settle in and cry some more. I think I was in shock seeing Papa in the road, and unfortunately I keep replaying the scene over and over again in my mind. I'm working hard to replace that thought with a thankful heart for the love filled moments my husband and I spent...with our dear Papa.

I am so thankful for the time we spent with Papa.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Give thanks,

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

** AUTHORBUZZ **

PROTECTED (Fiction) by Lexi Blake

When Wade's high school sweetheart broke his heart, he moved on, joining the Army and living his life, but never forgetting Genny Harris. Now it's fifteen years later and Genny needs his help. Someone wants her dead. Seeing her again reawakens feelings he thought were gone. But if Wade can't keep her safe, their second chance at love could be over before it even begins.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on PROTECTED to read more and to email author Lexi Blake, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Columns 11-12-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

Please welcome today's guest author and a dear friend of mine, Jessica Keener. It's a post that will touch your heart and inspire you.

(You'll find information about Jessica, her latest release, and book giveaway after her guest column.)

Lost and Found

Every year, when November comes around, I am reminded of a miracle in my life--my rebirth in a Boston hospital where I underwent a bone marrow transplant thirty-nine years ago. The procedure was highly experimental, with a 50/50 risk of working. My extraordinary brother donated his bone marrow and saved me.

My primary nurse, Vivian Kelly, was another extraordinary person who saved me at that time--physically, mentally, and emotionally--and this is who I want to honor today.

For two and a half months, I was confined to a critical care, isolation room. Every morning, five days a week, Vivian came into my room dressed in layers of sterile clothing--surgical pants and gown, head covering, face mask, a double set of gloves, shoe coverings. In addition to nursing duties, she cheered me up when I slipped into depressive states. She was practical and energizing. She administered medications, kept me on task, and talked to me about anything--my love life (my rocky relationship with a guy at the time) and hers. She was a single mom, raising three young kids. She had put herself through college and nursing school. She was a black woman in a white world of nurses and doctors. She told me how some patients had refused her care because of her skin color.

I adored Vivian for her ability to take away my fears, her intelligence, and humor. She lifted me up--every single day.

After I left the hospital, Vivian moved to California to practice nursing on the West coast. I stayed on the East coast. We lost touch. But this year, I felt a powerful urge to find her. Why had I lost touch with her in the first place? I was mad at myself. It had been 39 years. I worried she may not be alive. Finally, my husband urged me to contact Vivian's college. This is how I found her. And, it turned out, Vivian, had also been looking for me!

This summer, we reunited in person. Vivian came to Boston where she still has family. To reconnect with someone who had been so pivotal in my life is another kind of miracle. Vivian is retired now but her energy and Facebook posts reflect so much of who she is--strong, smart, independent, funny, and loving.

If you have been thinking of someone uniquely special in your life, someone who drifted away for whatever reason, I urge you to take that 50/50 risk, reach out, and find them.

--Jessica Keener

Jessica is pleased offer five signed copies of Strangers In Budapest--she can be reached at [email protected]

Jessica Keener's newest novel, Strangers In Budapest, is an IndieBound Now in Paperback selection for November 2018.
Published to wide acclaim, it was chosen as a best new novel by Entertainment Weekly, Simple.com, and others. Boston Magazine called it "the perfect page-turner," and Publishers Weekly wrote: "Keener immerses the reader in Budapest's post-communist period in all its tumultuous glory." Keener is the recipient of a Massachusetts Cultural Council Artist's Grant and has been listed in The Pushcart Prize under "outstanding writers." She has taught literature and writing at Boston University, Brown University, U. of Miami, and Grub Street in Boston, and has written more than a hundred feature articles for national magazines such as The Boston Globe, O the Oprah Magazine, and Design New England.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

** AUTHORBUZZ **

THE PRIZE (Thriller) by Geoffrey M. Cooper

Do you think medical researchers are sincere, hard-working, dedicated? Some are. But not all. When Pam Weller discovers a drug against Alzheimer's, her rival sees the coveted Nobel Prize slipping away. His all-consuming ambition drives him to concoct a plot that threatens Pam's career, her freedom and even her life.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on THE PRIZE to read more and to email author Geoffrey M. Cooper, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 11-09-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to the recent Chocolate Chip Cookie winners. I'll be baking for you this weekend, Sharon B., Greene County Public Library; Carol M., Lake Wales Public Library and Melinda M.

It's one of my family's traditional Thanksgiving recipes, Crock Pot Dressing, and it's become a classic recipe at the book clubs, too. Every year readers email asking for the recipe (some in a panic the night before Thanksgiving, because they've misplaced their copy), so I'm happy to share it with you, early.

If you're cooking for a crowd, or if all of your stuffing never fits in the turkey and you have to find room for another casserole in your oven, consider making my Crock Pot Dressing this year.

Crock Pot Dressing

1 cup butter, melted
2 cups chopped onion
2 cups chopped celery
1/4 cup fresh parsley
2 cups mushrooms (if you use canned, drain them)
2 eggs beaten
3 1/2 to 4 1/2 cups chicken broth, or enough to moisten well
13 cups dried bread, cubed
1 1/2 tsp poultry seasoning
2 tsp salt
2 tsp sage
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp marjoram, (optional)

Melt butter in fry pan and saute onion and celery until soft. Mix with remaining ingredients and toss well. Pack in large crock pot. Cover. Cook on high for 45 minutes, then turn to low and continue cooking for 6-8 hours.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Congratulations to the winners of an ecopy of Hiding in Plain Sight by guest author Mary Ellis: Megan A., Terri S., Linda K., Beth S., and Tami P.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

KIDS BUZZ: Two for kids ages 8-12! If you're looking for "an entertaining mystery for children who like their chills seasoned with laughs" (SLJ), try Andrea Portes' HENRY AND EVA AND THE CASTLE ON THE CLIFF; and if princesses are your thing, MORE THAN A PRINCESS by E.D. Baker "will engage younger readers... themes of courage and self-acceptance give it a powerfully positive message" (Booklist). For a chance to win free copies, go to KIDSBUZZ.

Dear Reader Column 11-08-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

From the very first sentence I knew it was going to be a magical read, and I wasn't disappointed. This year's First Place winning story in my annual Write a DearReader Contest was written by Karin DeLaurentis.

Congratulations Karin!

Karin told me she's entered the writing contest every year since 2008, when she started reading at the book club through the Grandview Heights Public Library in Columbus, Ohio.

"I enjoy reading," Karin said, "and looking back, it's a sweet, romantic walk down memory lane, and reading has shaped me--the person I am today."

Thank you so much for entering Karin.

California Dreaming

The package always arrived at our little Ohio home a week or two before Christmas, wrapped in brown paper and bearing the exotic postmark of Los Angeles, California. It was more anticipated by my sister and I than Santa. Even my mom felt the thrill.

Unbundled to reveal unfamiliar paper and ribbon, here were gifts that came from another coast. My little fingers carefully opened the tiny box. Inside was a small gold bracelet, alternating charms of ruby red gemstone hearts and tiny bunches of pearl grapes. I exclaimed with pleasure. The bracelet was something I never knew I wanted until I saw it, and then I knew it was exactly what I always wanted.

The givers of this gift, my maiden great aunts Cora and Elsie, sent me something wonderful every year for Christmas. They never asked what I wanted. They never requested a size or color. But every gift they sent was somehow--perfect. Unforgettable.

Cora and Elsie were fascinating ladies. They were born before the turn of the last century in the tiny town of Macedon, Ohio, to a hardscrabble farm home of graying clapboard. They lived quietly. They became young school marms at the redbrick one-room school house. They cared for their brother and elderly mother. But when their mother died, they did something that maiden ladies in 1920 just didn't do.

They packed their bags, said goodbye to their family, and boarded a bus to Los Angeles.

They wanted an adventure. I imagine them making plans over dishes, canning or wash day. Just a half-humorous suggestion at first, then more serious with each conversation, they talk it over, growing more excited, more excited. Slowly realizing: we can do this. Over the protests of friends and family. Saving their meager salaries, counting each nickel 'til they had enough money.

In the land of movie stars and palm trees, Cora and Elsie lived a life they could only imagine back in Ohio. It was the free-wheeling 1920s, the era of flappers and bootleg. Instead of school marms, they found work as pert and well-dressed shopgirls at the May Co., a large department store. They picnicked at the beach in risque bathing costumes with their dapper-looking boyfriends. They tooled around on Sunday afternoons in a sleek coupe. In their frequent letters home, they described visits to Sunset Boulevard and the Hollywood Bowl, the La Brea Tarpits and Grauman's Chinese Theater. They spied stars and starlets (right on the streets!), and attended the 1925 premier of Ben Hur. In old photos, they look sweet--Elsie taller and quietly pretty, Cora the beauty, very petite with coal black hair and a Clara Bow smile.

The ladies never married. They lived together in their sunny bungalow apartment until Elsie died in the 1970s. Cora was ill by then, and at last, came home. She lived with my grandma, her sister-in-law, for a short time, and I was lucky enough to know her a little before her death. She still dyed her hair coal black and beneath the wrinkles she still had her Clara Bow twinkle. I wonder if she and Elsie ever thought about all those clever gifts they sent us? I wonder if they understood, beyond our conventional thank you notes, how thrilling it was for a little country girl to get a shiny blue and gold box from the May Co. in Los Angeles, California?

I am guessing they did. I am guessing that young Cora and Elsie, as they dreamed of California in their farmhouse beds at night, might also have dreamed of owning a charm bracelet decorated with little red rubies and pearls.

Karin DeLaurentis
First Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Karin nominated Grandview Heights Public Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending her library a check for $100.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction)
ENVY by Rachel Van Dyken

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

Dear Reader Column 11-07-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
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Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Susan Lee Miller. The Second Place winner in this year's Write a DearReader Contest.

Susan's writing painted pictures of childhood memories for me, and I bet you'll recognize some of your own, too. She's been a reader at the book club for several years, and she said this wasn't the first time she entered the annual writing contest. Enjoying retirement, Susan and her husband have three adult children, and she added, "I have a sweet, loving daughter-in-law."

One Summer's Day

I wake slowly, twisted in sticky sheets. My sister is mummified in her bed covers. The air dragged itself through our dormer window and just hangs there. It's going to be a hot one.

'Sue, it's time to get up.' 'Mom, why do I have to get up and Becky gets to sleep?' 'Because she is little and you are not.' I am 11 years old. Still, as I assemble my Frosted Flakes and milk, I am humming. The long summer is a rollercoaster, it takes forever to get up the big hill, but that downhill part flys by faster and faster until you slide into the platform. We are still on the incline.

The percolator is perking, the parakeets squawking, the mutt is chasing the cat, and two of my brothers are fighting. Again. My mother: 'Stop arguing or I will tell your father!' They stop. 'And don't forget you have to clean the garage today', guaranteeing another fight.

'Sue, can you give me the broom?' My warrior mother stands at the door, scrutinizing the front stoop through battle weary eyes. She planted evergreen bushes on either side, and now black, hairy spiders with bodies as big as quarters and legs six inches long live there. Every night they spin gummy webs that span the front steps. Every morning she weaponizes the broom and beats the webs back so we can safely descend the steps.

'Mom, can I go out?' 'First do your job.' I wipe down the bathroom sink, toilet and floors, interrupted twice by siblings who need the toilet. By 9:00 AM it's rank. We have one bathroom for (then) a family of eight, including three little boys.

'Mom, can I go out?' 'First take the baby for a walk so I can get some work done.' I lug the navy blue, oversized baby carriage down the front steps, concussing my baby sister buried under receiving blankets. Girls and their mothers emerge from neighbors' houses. 'Oooh, can I see the baby?' By the time I circle the block, two other girls with baby carriages have joined the parade.

My mother is sitting at the kitchen table reading the morning paper, drinking coffee and smoking. 'Mom, can I go out?' 'Where are you going?' 'The library.' 'Be back by lunch.'

I ride my blue bike several blocks, cut through the woods, cross over the Thruway overpass and keep pedaling. I go everyday. I get the next books in a series, and read paragraphs from books I randomly choose. Maybe I'll find a new writer.

I get home in time for lunch. 'Sue, can you help the kids make sandwiches?' We eat baloney or peanut butter and jelly on white bread, but cannot touch the sweet, thinly sliced Krakus ham; that's reserved for my father to have on rye with Hellman's mayonnaise.

I sneak up to my bedroom, plop on the bed and start reading The Wonderful Flight to the Mushroom Planet. I am sweating, but it is bliss. 'Sue, what are you doing?' 'Reading.' 'Just reading? OK, can you...?'

My father is not home for dinner tonight, so we fool around until my mother kicks us out of the house. Someone suggests softball. I can't pitch, catch, hit or run, and am picked last for a team. Finally, it's my turn at bat. The pitcher lobs me a slow one that drifts through the dusk. I swing, and hear a clang as the bat smacks the ball and it flies down the street. 'Holy crap!', swears the pitcher. I barely see the bases, and grin the whole way around.

The mothers, backlit shadows in their front doors, call, 'Time to come home.' The steady rumble of the Thruway's trucks is getting louder, the truckers are making time.

Susan Lee Miller
Second Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Susan nominated Henry Waldinger Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending the library a check for $50.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

KIDS BUZZ: Two for kids ages 8-12! If you're looking for "an entertaining mystery for children who like their chills seasoned with laughs" (SLJ), try Andrea Portes' HENRY AND EVA AND THE CASTLE ON THE CLIFF; and if princesses are your thing, MORE THAN A PRINCESS by E.D. Baker "will engage younger readers... themes of courage and self-acceptance give it a powerfully positive message" (Booklist). For a chance to win free copies, go to KIDSBUZZ.

Dear Reader Column 11-06-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

Congratulations to Jessie Heninger, this year's Third Place Winner in my annual Write a DearReader Contest. Jessie's entry is writing that makes you stop and really think. I admire the unique style, because on any given day, reading her story could take you down a different path in your mind.

No doubt about it, Jessie was excited to hear the news about her entry. "I can't believe it! Thank you so much! The writing life can be so discouraging. Thank you for putting wind in my sails."

You did a great job Jessie, sail on!

Cracks

Not everyone knew about the cracks but everyone had them.

Dotty had her own, of course, cracks were what made you human. At times they could even make you beautiful. Like that Japanese pottery that was mended with gold to become something even more lovely than it had originally been.

But the cracks were dangerous, and hurt. Sometimes they continued to ache off and on like a bruise that never fully healed. If one of your cracks broke open it could hurt the people around you. This happened all the time, especially to people who didn't understand about cracks, to the people who didn't know to be careful. Once in a while a person would split so wide open and deep that the devil tar that lived inside would flow out destroying innocent people in it's wake. That had happened not long ago at a school; killing children and spreading hundreds of new cracks, like a spider web of fissures crisscrossing the country.

Dotty knew all of this and she knew about her own. She had learned how to walk lightly over the areas of her soul that were most vulnerable.

Which is why she was caught so unaware by the breaking open of one of her very oldest cracks. In the end it wasn't something catastrophic that broke her open. Instead, it was something small, and vain which made it even worse when the chasm in her heart split wide and shattered her soul.

She hadn't heard the warning sound of the cracks spreading like thin ice at the end of winter. And was shocked as her spirit snagged and she toppled over the edge.

She hit the tar-like substance so hard that all the air rushed out of her lungs. She reached for the bottom of the pit with her feet but this crack was old and years of insecurities had carved it deep. Deep enough to drown in.

She struggled against the sticky tar, but it was hard to keep her head above it's oily surface.

She was treading the liquid now, trying to make her way to the edge where she could climb out. She knew from experience that there was a way out. Sometimes it was a small thing, like a sunny afternoon, or a crocus peeking up from the snow. Sometimes the only way out was the hand of a friend. She simply had to stay above the black surface long enough for them to hear her cry and find her.

Dotty was trying very hard to stay above the swampy, water. She was trying hard not to splash the poison on the people around her. She told herself not to give up, somehow she'd find a way out because she always had.

But, her arms were getting tired and her heart was too heavy and her friends had disappeared. What if some cosmic event had split open all the cracks, and her friends were waiting for her to pull them out and she was waiting for them? If she got out but they didn't make it, what then?

She didn't think a chasm like that could ever heal over. In fact it's sharp edges may just slice open her heart and she'd bleed to death.

Her arms were growing numb and her head was sinking lower into the slime. She prayed to her God that he would send her a way out; a humming bird, or the laughter of a child. Anything that could give her a way out of the hate and ugliness coursing through her own soul.

"Just a little longer." She whispered to herself. "You can wait a little longer."

Jessie Heninger
Third Place Winner
Write a DearReader Contest 2018

Jessie nominated Lynnwood Library to win a cash prize. Since she's a winner, I'll be sending the library a check for $25.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

Dear Reader Column 11-05-18

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books,
"meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader,

You're in for a treat. This week you'll be able to read the First, Second and Third place winning entries in the 2018 Write a DearReader Contest. The quality of the entries this year was amazing--I'm sincere about that. It was very difficult to choose winners, so again this year, I'll be featuring a number of Honorable Mention columns over the next few weeks.

Writing down your thoughts is a powerful way to soothe your soul and find joy. Sometimes when I start a column, I think I know what I'm going to write about, but soon I'm turning the corner and writing about something I had no idea I needed to say.

Thank you to everyone who entered the contest. I highly recommend that you keep writing, even if it's just for 5-minutes each day. It's great therapy, and heaven knows this crazy-bubble blowing, cookie baking writer needs all the help she can get.

Congratulations to this year's winners.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Keep writing,

Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]

** AUTHORBUZZ **

ENVY (Fiction) by Rachel Van Dyken

There's something so angsty and fun about bringing in the fine line of love vs hate, fear vs safety and that's what this book is all about. You'll find yourself rooting for the anti-hero and find yourself justifying all of their actions. I know you'll enjoy Vic as he tries to keep his oath to the families--to stay away from the only woman who drives him insane. He'll risk his life to love her. And she'll risk hers, to love him back!

Go to: AuthorBuzz click on ENVY to read more and to email author Rachel Van Dyken, you'll get a reply.