It’s been a very long time since I’ve posted to this blog. Frankly, I’ve been far more upset and on edge about where we are as a nation than I was able to admit to myself.

Then, while watching the news, I cried.

I got chocked up when I first saw video of delivery people rolling boxes from their trucks into hospitals. These weren’t just any trucks. They were refrigerator trucks capable of keeping their contents at a temperature of -90 degrees Fahrenheit.

I admit, I didn’t understand why I was feeling verklempt at these images. What was this about?

The first tears began to fall as the vaccines arrived. They continued when I watched a doctor administer the vaccine into the arm of a healthcare worker. Once the tears started, it was difficult to turn the waterworks off. So, I let them flow. I felt ridiculous, especially when I really started blubbering and sniffling … a real ugly cry. Because of a vaccine.

Then later in the morning, I began to feel even better when the Electoral College votes started airing across the country. Despite the lunatic GOP attempts at shoving their “alternate” Electoral College representatives into state buildings and despite the threats of violence scattered across the states, the United States democratic process prevailed and the 306 votes President Biden and Vice President Harris had earned on Nov. 3, were officially stacked in their win columns.

I may have shed a few tears during the Electoral College process as well, the one we'd never really seen before because no other sitting president has ever forced us to go through this to prove to him that he lost. (Eye roll) Since I was home alone, teleworking for the gazillionth day since this nightmare began, and since it felt like the final thing needed to end this nightmare, I may have had some dust in my eyes.

Then last night, I had a long talk with my brother. It was just like our old talks. A rambling conversation, flitting from one topic to the next on subjects like books, TV, movies, politics, old friends, weird things in the news. It was the first such conversation we’d had in months and months and I didn’t realize how much I had missed them, until I hung up. The call ended just like they used to, with one of us begging off because we simply couldn't stay on the line any longer. (My back teeth were floating!)

Which brings me back to the main topic. I was so relieved. So very relieved that the initial steps back from the long, long road of the pandemic and the election and the protests and the upheavals had started.

It was all a sign that it was time to write a blog post. So, here it is.

BTW, I’m writing again. Not fiction. I have a ghost writing job that I’m really excited about and one that I hope will continue for some time. So far the working relationship has been great and I’m loving it. I won’t be talking about it much, but just know that I feel lucky and engaged and happy to be putting words on a page, even if they mostly are not my own.

Now, as we’re looking toward the end of this isolation, what have you done to keep yourself sane? I’ve been going crafting crazy. Knitting and crocheting like a mad woman. You?

P.S. I released the Master Sergeant Harper series in one box set. You can get all three mysteries plus some bonus content here.

I will not be writing fiction or much of anything else for the foreseeable future.

I know withdrawing from writing fiction at this time won’t make much of a difference in the scheme of things. My small group of readers haven’t read anything new from me for almost a year already. The last time I posted to this blog was in April. There are millions of fantastic books and short stories out there to keep everyone entertained forever. I have no illusions that anything new I might produce would be missed.

I’m not boycotting the writing world as some kind of call to action, nor do I think declaring an end to my fiction writing will result in some kind of change that will impact how people think. Between the pandemic and the arguments over masks, the lives lost and the massive economic hardships millions are facing, my imaginary characters, their lives, their issues …  well, who gives a shit? Certainly not me.

Every single day I've felt guilt and insecurities because I can't do more than stare at the empty page. I wish I could fill it with my fear, frustration and the extreme anxiety that washes over me every time I consider what will happen to my country, to the world, if the same thing happens in November 2020 that happened in November 2016. If the politics aren’t enough, watching George Floyd die and the callous indifference on Chauvin’s face broke me. I didn’t think I could take one more story of police brutality and the wrongful deaths of innocents at the hands of people who simply didn’t care. Then there was Breonna Taylor and Elijah McClain and Venessa Guillen, a sister in arms whose murder inexcusably went unsolved for so long even when the killer was the most obvious person imaginable. If her murder had been a novel, readers would have excoriated the author for making the solution to the puzzle so damn obvious.

Why is it so hard for Americans to wear a damn mask? How could parents support a president who demands they send their children into virus riddled infection chambers? How do we allow news organizations to spread propaganda against Black Lives Matter as if this civil rights group is some sort of terrorist organization? How is it okay for the party of POTUS to put a mentally ill rapper on the ballot in a scheme to draw votes from his opponent? How do we allow our neighbors or, more importantly, our employees to scream the N word and call the police on people simply for walking down the street? How does anyone make excuses for people who stand on their front lawn and point weapons at people exercising their first amendment rights? Did that cop really think it made things better to help a 16 year-old girl sit up, after he made her and her sisters lay face down on the ground and put handcuffs on them? And even after people from around the world have expressed their anger, shock and horror over our handling of this pandemic, and indeed, ban Americans from visiting most countries around the world because of it, how can the architect of this disaster claim we are the envy of the world? Worse, how can his followers think this is all okay?

The horrific destruction left in the wake of the explosion in that Beirut warehouse seems almost representative of the collective pressure we are all facing. I’ve had enough.

Every single day my frustration and feelings of helplessness have grown in the face of all of this madness.  At the same time my guilt over not being able to put words on a page multiplied exponentially. The horrific destruction left in the wake of the explosion in that Beirut warehouse seems almost representative of the collective pressure we are all facing. I’ve had enough.

I wish I could control the fear so many millions feel over their need for that extra $600 congress can’t come to an agreement on. I wish I could control the guilt some cops may be wrestling with as they start to understand the realities of the systematic racism they have unknowingly supported. I wish I could control the risk to health so many teachers will face. I wish I could control the gut-wrenching feelings low income, hardworking parents must be facing who know their children won’t get the homeschooling they need. I wish I could have control over how much further behind those low income kids will become. I wish I could control the hatred in the hearts of so many who become incensed, outraged and violent over a simple demand that no lives matter until Black, Brown and Native lives matter.     

I know that many people share my frustration and feelings of helplessness in the face of all of this. By saying I'm not going to write anymore, I'm finally taking control of the one stone of guilt I can lift off my shoulders. Unlike COVID or federal troops on the streets or those who refuse to wear masks or the lunatic in the White House and all of the evil monsters who support him, this one thing, the guilt I feel over my inability to write, I can control. So I will.

My gratitude that I and everyone in my immediate family have jobs that allow us to telecommute and still earn a paycheck is endless.

My 88-year old aunt is the only person I know of within my extended family who has COVID-19. She was intubated but is off the ventilator now and prognosis looks good.

My 88-year old Aunt is a tough old bird!

My apartment has never been this clean. My closets and drawers are organized, for a change, and I’d really like to keep them that way.

Craft projects are much more fun when you finish them.

Make one person a mask and everyone wants a mask. Making masks can be cathartic. Making masks makes you feel as if you’re doing something that can help others. After a while, you might get tired of making masks, but you keep doing it, because, making masks makes you feel as if you’re doing something that can help others.

Making masks makes you realize how many craft projects you started and didn’t finish because of all the random cotton, elastic and thread you already have on hand.

I have always hated antibacterial gel.

I can’t stop thinking about how lonely it must be to die of COVID-19.

There is nothing more liberating during excruciatingly long conference calls than the speaker and mute buttons.

Happiness is, weeks into the stay-at-home order, and you realize there are two seasons of Homeland you haven’t watched yet.

When we first started this social distancing business, I never, ever would have thought it would last this long. Everything I hear makes me think we're only at the beginning.

My cats always begged me to pay attention to them. My cats can only take so much attention.

Every time I start a new roll of toilet paper I feel a little guilty.

I looked it up. It’s called stir-crazy because stir is supposed to be a 19th century British slag for prison, that derived from start, which is what they used to call Newgate prison and then that somehow morphed into stir and then stir became what they called all prisons and then when someone was in prison for a long time and they started acting crazy they were said to have been made crazy by being confined in prison for a long time so then the phrase stir-crazy was supposed to describe that condition. I think that’s all a stupid and unsatisfactory way of explaining why it's called stir-crazy.

Even though I am lucky enough to live near many different walking paths and trails, I almost always take the same one.

You’d think a stay-at-home order would mean lots of writing time. Wrong.

I really, really, really, really, really need a pedicure.

I was glad to hear congress had passed a bill to bring relief to people with unemployment and relief checks. They need to get those checks to the people who need them. Congress do you job!

I have not been sleeping well. I can only imagine how little sleep I would be getting if I were stressed out about not getting a damn paycheck. Congress do you job!

People should stop ignoring the one way signs in the grocery store. I like the one way signs in the grocery store.

I have a deep and lasting respect for people who work in grocery stores … including my sister who works in a grocery store part time. Always be kind to people who work in grocery stores.

I tried talking to the woman at the bakery counter. I repeated myself several times thinking she couldn’t hear me because of my mask. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, I’m deaf.” I apologized. I was also kind of glad I was wearing a mask.

What will deaf people do if everyone wears masks all the time?

My resting bitch face must look much worse behind a mask.

Our healthcare system is a disaster.

When my only choice is to shop online, I make are far fewer impulse buys. I have spent a hell of a lot less money this month. I had a hard time controlling my impulses before.

I am ridiculously excited about receiving the new mop I ordered. It's a regular old mop. Did I mention how clean my apartment is?

Grocery stores should quadruple the employees they have pulling groceries for pickup and delivery. I searched a month out and all of the pickup and delivery dates are sold out. Missed opportunity!

One thing I rarely kept in the house before but have multiple choices of today ... snacks!

Will we talk about our lives in terms of B.C. (Before Covid) and A.C. (After Covid)?

A good thing about COVID-19 is that social media know-it-alls are being proven wrong about so many things. A bad thing about COVID-19 is that social media know-it-alls will only find other stuff to be wrong about.

Stay away from social media as much as possible.

COVID-19 is proof positive that the election in November is the most important election of my lifetime.

Let me say up front, my decision was mostly a financial one.

Two days before I was scheduled to head to San Antonio for The Association of Writers and Writing Convention (AWP), where I was schedule to appear on a panel, the convention organizers announced they were considering whether or not to cancel the event. San Antonio had just had a major scare, and there was reason to be concerned.  

Since the virus hit our newsfeeds I’d heard of events being canceled or of people canceling their travel plans. During those weeks, I’d check in with my travel partner over and over again, saying, “Oh, we’re going. For sure. No doubt. I’m not letting a little fear of coronavirus stop me.”

And surely, this convention would not turn the 10 to 12 thousand people who usually attend away, many of them powerhouses in the literary community.

Truth is, AWP is expensive. The registration alone is hundreds of dollars. Our hotel was over a grand and that was, by far, one of the cheaper hotels available. The airfare was more than what I usually pay to visit family in Minnesota. Attending this four-day convention puts a big dent in my travel budget. In the past I've been able to justify it. This year was different.

Despite the expense, I usually go because it’s the one time a year I get to be around a large section of my cohort … the veteran writing community. It’s a chance to mingle with thousands of new writers and readers. It’s an opportunity to appear on panels and be in talks that let me advance my point of view. This year, I was going to help man the table The Wrath-Bearing Tree and Collateral -- both literary journals that I assist with fiction editing -- had a shared table in the book fair hall. For months I looked forward to sharing that table with some of my most favorite people and savored the idea of having rare hours of time to spend with them.

But, when I considered the attendance this year would be much diminished because of the virus threat, the potential cancellation announcements just days before the convention, the fact that I had purchased travel insurance (we shall see if the insurer makes good on their policy) and the mayor of San Antonio declaring a medical emergency, I couldn’t square the financial outlay with the threat of infection and a greatly contracted attendance.

This book fair is usually teaming with people. It makes me sad to see so many empty tables representing the scores of organizations that canceled their attendance. Photo/Andria Williams

Not to mention, according to this administration's health experts, not only am I "elderly" by their definition, I've had pneumonia before, so getting this thing could result in more serious consequences for me than for younger people without my medical history.

"... the US Department of Health and Human Services "is in the process of doing targeted outreach to the elderly community and those that have serious underlying health conditions."

"Dr. William Schaffner, a Vanderbilt University professor and longtime adviser to the CDC, said these two groups should consider avoiding activities such as traveling by airplane, going to movie theaters, attending family events, shopping at crowded malls, and going to religious services."

Fri. March 6, 2020, CNN report by Elizabeth Cohen

They define elderly as those "over 60." Soooooo, that's me!? Elderly? Really??

Did I make the right decision? My head says, no. My wallet says, yes. My heart says, DAMN YOU CORONAVIRUS!  

I know the correct emotion is to feel happy for her instead of jealous. I know I’m supposed love hearing her stories about it, instead of wishing I had stories of my own to tell. And of course I know that if I really wanted one, I could and should form one of my own. Somehow, I can’t convince myself that if I did make one of my own, that it would ever be as cool as hers.

The “her” I’m talking about is my sister, and the thing she has, the thing I wish I had, is a book club.

Not just any book club. This is a group of smart, accomplished, worldly, successful black women who enjoy each other’s company so much, they not only talk about great books, they also go on trips inspired by the books they read. They’ve traveled to Soprlo Island, Charleston, the Gulf Coast of Florida, the mountains of North, Georgia, just to name a few. The Book Trekkers have been meeting and discussing books for over ten years. They read everything from memoir to mystery to, thank goodness, urban fantasy.

I was both excited and nervous when my sister told me she had selected my book, The Bonding Spell, for the club to read at their most recent meeting.

Excited, because I thought it was cool as hell that this group of women I had admired for so long was going to read my work. Nervous, of course, that they would enjoy it.

My sister called me the afternoon of their club meeting. There was lots of laughter and conversation, everyone talking over each other as I heard the names of my characters bouncing around the room. They asked fantastic questions and I could tell by what they asked, that they really understood what I had been trying to do with the book. They had laughed at the right places, had understood the conflicts, and had loved the characters I had drawn on the page.

The whole experience was inspiring.

If your book club is looking for something fun to read, let me know. Cookie’s club members all received autograph copies of the book and I was happy to answer all of their questions as well as provide some questions they could use to spark discussion.

The Book Trekkers. Lower left, Marilynn, Terri, Wanda and my sister, Cookie. Top left is Aishea, Janis, Debbie and Faye.

Thanks for letting me participate in your group!

I’m not big into numerology, but I think we can all agree that the numbers 2020 are just damn cool. No matter how you write it, there’s something magical about it. Twenty-twenty, 2020, two-zero, two-zero. Am I right?

So, it’s with anticipation for all the great things I’ll read in 2020, that I provide the best of what I read (or listened to) in 2019. In previous years, I read books and occasionally had an audio book going at the same time. This year, on any of the 365 days of 2019, my sitting and reading time was spent with a print or ebook and my walking, doing chores or driving time was spent listening to a different audio book. As a result, I listened more than read books this year. That said, by absorbing words while doing other things at the same time I was able to enjoy the written word even more than before.

As always, it was difficult to choose only a few to recognize.


Midnight Son, by James Dommek, Jr. – Not to be confused with The Midnight Son by Joe Nesbo … This Midnight Son is a free Audible Original. Unfortunately, originals are exclusive to Audible, which is truly sad, because I want everyone to hear this thing. It might be worth the free 30-day trial just for this story alone. (No, I don’t own Amazon stock).

With datelines and place markers, James Dommek, Jr. narrates this true story the way his Iñupiaq tribe ancestors would have told it. Like a podcast with cinema verite-style sounds and conversations, Dommek unfolds the winding tale of Teddy Kyle Smith, a man who grew up in the author’s small, remote Alaskan town and went on to became an actor. Smith had appeared in several independent films and had a burgeoning acting career going before he returned to Kayana, Alaska, his hometown, for a visit. What happens next is told by the narrator in a voice that demonstrates his shock and confusion.

I’ve seen other Audible Originals end up in print and available to a wider audience. I hope that happens to this story.


The Water Dancer, by Te-Nehisi Coats – Coats is known for his fearless nonfiction writing. His Between the World and Me, championed by both Oprah and Obama, set a shift in the tone of how people, especially black people, speak about race in a post-Obama world.  

With his fiction debut, he continues to demonstrate he will pull no punches in pursuit of his narrative. In The Water Dancer, Hiram Walker, the product of what happens when a master continually rapes his slaves, makes use of his photographic memory to better his lot. Later, with the help of Moses – Harriet Tubman – Walker is able to harness his powers of perfect visualization to change his world and the lives of the people closest to him.

Difficult to read at times, but other times hopeful, The Water Dancer is a, curl-up-in-bed-with-a-hot-cup-of-tea, kind of book. A satisfying escape.


Looking Glass, Murder Theory and Dark Pattern, by Andrew Mayne - Books two, three and four of Mayne’s mystery series, which started with The Naturalist. This straight up mystery-serial killer-series features the most unusual accidental sleuth I’ve ever read and mysteries which, by book three, I was finally starting to understand to a point where I would venture to make guesses.  Dr. Theo Cray is a computational biologist—whatever that means—who uses computerized models to follow patterns and to theorize who is killing people.

When you consider that Mayne is an illusionist by trade and went on tour with the likes of Copperfield, and, Pen and Teller, you begin to understand that this writer’s brain, and that of his main character, works a bit differently than your average human. This is a series I read one after the other, immediately starting the next as the previous ended. Page turners all, that will keep you up long past your bedtime.


The Girl Who Saved The King of Sweden, by Jonas JonassonI love a book that takes a bunch of serious subjects, forces you to see them from a completely different perspective, and makes you think the world’s problems aren’t as insurmountable as you thought.

Nombeko Mayeki, born in the poorest part of Soweto and destined to a short life of poverty and abuse, refuses to take her fate sitting down. She gets a job as a cleaner, escapes sexual assaults, teaches herself to read, advises her bosses, rubs elbows with world leaders and scrambles to save the world from nuclear annihilation, all the while holding the most positive attitude a person could have.

This story had me laughing out loud, going back and rereading to convince myself that what I’d just read was actually what I’d just read and completely sad when I was finished. This is one of those books that leaves you feeling as if anything else you pick up won’t hold a candle to the world you’ve just left. I was thrilled to hear that someone has optioned the book for a movie. One of my 2020 reads will be Jonasson’s first book, The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared.    


14, by Peter Clines – Now this book is just plain freaky, but once you get through the set up – which admittedly is a bit slow – you’ll be hooked, and, much like the characters in the story, you will feel an impossible-to-resist urge to unravel the mystery.

Nate Tucker thinks his luck has changed for the better when he leases an incredible apartment in L. A. The deal came along at the perfect time, since Nate is out of work and money is tight. As the out-of-work Nate grows increasingly bored, his attention is drawn to one apartment in his new building that is closed behind a conspicuous padlock. The more Nate gets to know his new neighbors, the more he begins to realize they all have a strange story to tell in relation to that apartment.

A bit like the unusual mysteries in Lost or even Twin Peaks, the strangeness increases as the secrets unravel, and the reader is left to hope that the final solution is worth the journey. I think it is.

Directly after reading 14, I read Grady Hendrix’s, Horrorstör. A somewhat funny, somewhat horrifying tale that takes place in a store that closely resembles that big blue furniture store with yellow letters … Anyway, if I hadn’t read 14 first, Horrorstör might have made my top ten.  


The Book of Etta, and The Book of Flora, by Meg Elison. Last year, I saw The Book of the Unnamed Midwife on several, best of lists. Once I read it, I not only understood why it was so highly recommended, I was sucked into the other two books in the series, The Book of Etta and The Book of Flora.

In Ellison’s post-apocalyptic world, live births are extremely rare and female births even rarer. In short, women are literally at a premium. Enslaved, bought and sold, traded and abused, the world is a dark and dangerous place if you have boobs and a vajajay.

By the second and third books, Ellison expands her exploration to ask questions like, what kind of power does a woman have over the men who want her? What happens to relationships when the opportunity for sis-gendered love is so rare? More importantly, when procreation is next to impossible and even dangerous, what is the value of gender in the first place?  

A bit like Harlan Ellison’s (no relation, I checked), 1969, A Boy and His Dog, each community has their own way of dealing with the new reality, some much more honest and accepting than others. I think this series is important in our world as we all become more informed about  gender neutrality and fluidity.  


The Tumbling Turner Sisters, by Juliette Fay – Part of the reason I picked this one up is because, when we were kids, my sisters and I took dance lessons together and each year, had a routine we practiced and performed. I’d always wanted to make a living somehow, dancing and singing like Shirley Temple … only with my sisters.

So this story, about a family of women who take to the vaudeville stage in a desperate attempt to keep a roof over their heads, appealed to me. The girls grow into women on the road, improving their act and learning lessons about life. With a glimpse into what vaudeville was like in 1919, this story is like Water For Elephants but on the stage instead of the circus. I loved this one.    


The Worldship Humility, The Code Book series by RR Haywood. Another book which started as an Audible Original, but is now available in ebook and paperback and we’re all the better for it. It's no secret that I'm an unabashed RR Haywood fan and will read anything he puts out. For a new series, I thought this got off to a good start.

This post-apocalyptic story finds the last of earth’s humans living on a fleet of ships aimlessly puttering through the dark universe while they use unmanned drones to desperately search for a livable planet that can replace the one they destroyed. I know Haywood is mad at work on the next book in this series featuring Yasmine, a petty thief who wants to live on the upper decks, and Sam, an airlock operator, bored with his on-ship existence.

Yasmine learns about Sam's knack with technology and comes up with a scheme she hopes will buy her a ticket to utopia. The two of them get up to some mischief that is both funny and dangerous.  

I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.


An Heir to Thorns and Steel, By Vow and Royal Blood Bath and On Wings of Bone and Glass, the Blood Ladders Trilogy, by M.C.A. Hogarth – I don’t remember why I first started reading this series. I don’t know if someone recommended it, or if I just lucked into it on a one-click wish, but once I started, I couldn’t walk away.

Subject to constant pain and the humiliation of seizures, Morgan Locke feels he is imprisoned in a body that curses him daily. He wishes for something, anything to save him from his torture. What is it they say? Be careful what you wish for. An interesting cast of characters and creatures, journeys and quests that drag you along and a satisfying ending. Each book seems just long enough to keep you lost for a while.


And finally, Zero Hour, is book 1 in the Order of the Dragon series, by Tina Glasneck – I have to admit, I haven’t read this yet, but I was so excited to meet another black, female, fantasy/mystery author online, I had to include her work here. I downloaded my free copy of Zero Hour and plan to read it this weekend. Here’s how it’s described:

Vampires + Dark Magic = Zero Hour.

The road to destruction is only one tempting spell away.
What happens when an untrained seer possesses the most powerful grimoire ever to exist?

Leslie's a romance author, who happens to be conjuring magic. She's researching sigils for her latest Highlander romance, but her intentions have powered something sinister.


I love Tina's covers too.

I could go on and on about the great things I read this year. I couldn't even get to The Cutting Season, by Attica Locke -- another new favorite author of mine -- which tackles two mysteries at once. One modern day. The other during the dying days of slavery on the plantation where the story takes place.

Very close to my heart was Radio Girls, by Sarah-Jane Stratford. It's about the beginnings of the BBC and the role women played in the early years of radio production.

And it breaks my heart that I didn't include The Belles, by Dhonielle Clayton -- another author with a library of books I'm adding to my 2020 reading list. Her richly told fantasy takes place in a land called Orleans, where everyone is born grey and can only become beautiful with the help of a Belle. I loved it and wanted more.

Now, I'm working on my reading wish list for 2020. Which book did you read this year that stuck with you the longest? What was the best thing you read? And what are you looking forward to reading next year?

Copyright 2024 M. L. Doyle | All Rights Reserved
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