Authors speak out

Looking for some literary inspiration? Perhaps you've always wanted to ask a famous writer for advice.

We're kicking off this week's Press Writers Corner with a collection of tips and observations on writing from some authors you may be familiar with.

James Patterson

"I'm always pretending that I'm sitting across from somebody. I'm telling them a story, and I don't want them to get up until it's finished."

John Steinbeck

"I've always tried out material on my dogs first

F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Cut out all those exclamation marks. An exclamation mark is like laughing at your own joke."

E.B. White

"I admire anybody who has the guts to write anything at all."

Maurice Sendak

"I never spent less than two years on the text of one of my picture books, even though each of them is approximately 380 words long. Only when the text is finished ... do I begin the pictures."

William Faulkner

"A writer needs three things, experience, observation, and imagination, any two of which, at times any one of which, can supply the lack of the others."

Louis L'Amour

"A plot is nothing but a normal human situation that keeps arising again and again....normal human emotions - envy, ambition, rivalry, love, hate, greed, and so on."

Robert Louis Stevenson

"The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean."

E.L. Doctorow

"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."

Jack London

"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."

Annie Dillard

"Writing sentences is difficult whatever their subject. It is no less difficult to write sentences in a recipe than sentences in 'Moby Dick.' So you might as well write 'Moby Dick.'"

Francis Bacon

"A man would do well to carry a pencil in his pocket and write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought are commonly the most valuable and should be secured. They seldom return."

Lillian Hellman

"If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don't listen to writers talking about writing or themselves."

Send your Writers Corner submissions to Maureen Dolan, [email protected].

We prefer e-mail submissions, and we ask that you limit the length of your stories and poems. Please include your hometown with your submission.

You can send hard-copies by mail to Maureen Dolan at The Press, 201 Second St., Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, 83814.

And now, another round of prose and poetry from our local writers.

JUDGMENT

By Jim Turner,

Coeur d'Alene

I have been patient long enough Mr. Marshall, and more than lenient with your client. I will not delay the business of this court any longer.

Your Honor, I had a discussion with my client at 7 a.m. and I know that it was his firm intention to appear this morning.

That may be so Mr. Marshall, but this is the last time your client will make a mockery of this court. This court does not operate on the good doctors' schedule. I hereby cite Dr. Charles Johnson as being in contempt and issue a warrant for his immediate arrest. We will see how the good doctor feels about ignoring the wishes the court when he comes before me to show cause as to why he failed to appear as ordered.

Clerk, call the next case.

Excuse me your Honor, but there is an urgent call waiting for you in your chambers.

The Court will call a fifteen minute recess.

Oh my god, when did this happen? I see. Yes, yes, Susie would have been on her way to school... The driver crossed the centerline and hit her? Clipped her in the side and sent her spinning off the road? Hit a tree? Oh, my god.

Where is she?

County?

I'm on my way.

Clerk, please clear the docket for the rest of the day. My daughter has been in an accident.

Is it serious, sir?

She's in surgery as we speak.

Yes sir.

Sorry to keep waiting Judge Stillman, the doctor will be here in a moment. Your daughter is very fortunate. The tree branch missed her aorta by millimeters. Any delay in getting her here and into surgery would have been tragic. We were very fortunate that the surgeon was only a few minutes away when we paged him. He was not scheduled today.

Ah, here he is now. Doctor Johnson, this is Judge Stillman.

We've met.

By Morgan Edwards, age 12

One and a half years ago my boxer, Reba, was having throat problems and ear problems. So, my mom took her to the vet. When she got back, her blood shot eyes were filled with tears! When she finally calmed down enough to talk she said, " Morgan, Reba has Lympnomia Cancer!" I couldn't believe what just came out of my mother's mouth. Then the first thing I said was, "How long? How long does she have?" My mom said, "Six months, honey." My heart sank.

So for the next six months I did EVERYTHING with her. She even slept right beside me in my bed. We played tag and fetch. I even taught her how to shake (aka give high fives), and I also dressed her up in my old dress clothes and painted her nails.

After playing with her so much, I even forgot she had cancer at all, but when the time was coming close, I never EVER left her sight again. A couple days later my dad reminded me what she had. So every night I gently put my head on her stomach and said, "Goodnight, Reba. I love you."

Two weeks before we had to take Reba in, her leg swelled up like a balloon, or three times its size. I was starting to get worried. I panicked and ran to my room! I couldn't bare to see my best friend that I have had since I was four, leave me. I told her everything, and she listened and sat there to see what else I had to say.

When the time finally came, I couldn't breathe I was crying so hard. We walked in the vet's and could smell the stench of the other animals. I saw several vets walking around. The lady at the desk said, "It will be just a moment." I didn't want it to be just a moment. I wanted it to be six more years, but I knew she was in pain.

The vet came out and said, "This way please." We walked in, and I busted out crying. This was the first animal I had ever had to put down. The vet said, "It will be just a moment so I can go over her paperwork." We waited. We even laughed because Reba kept turning her head around and around because she heard the others dogs barking.

The vet came in, and we laid her down. I turned around and hugged my dad because I couldn't watch. When it was over he said, "I'm just going to tap her eyes to check for movement." We wrapped her in her favorite Mickey Mouse blanket and put her in the back of our minivan. Still crying!

When we got home, we said our goodbyes and put her in the ground, and that was when I knew there would never be another dog like Reba.

I haven't the time to rhyme a rhyme

In which to express my sentiment.

If I were so bold as to fashion a poem,

My reader would surely regret it.

- Ken Thruston, Osburn

ADORABLE

By Shirley Moon,

Post Falls

She brought him in and there he sat, about 11 inches tall, golden coat, big brown eyes that shined with affection as his stub of a tail fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird.

She said he needed a home and right away she thought of me. My history of "not being able to say no" was well known.

That was the day Charlie became a part of our family and a partner for Puppy (Puppy was an earlier story that I will tell you about later).

Charlie was an unusual dog, not one that learned easily but not one with annoying habits. I didn't notice the unusual about Charlie until he began bringing odd things home, he never chewed on them or left them lying around, they were more like gifts. He always left them outside on the porch by the front door. First was the teddy bear, then came one work shoe, next was a pair of panty hose. I shutter to think where these "gifts" originated from.

The morning I looked out the window and saw him, so optimistically, attempt to make a large female Afghan his conquest. I decided Charlie should have some restraints. Not having a fenced yard, I tied him to a sturdy hedge until something else could be done, not real appropriate but the only thing available at the time.

He would wind himself around the hedge until there was no more rope and stand there. I would unwind him, and we would start all over again. At last, it was freedom from the hedge, as I unwound the rope you could see his eyes shine and anxiety set in. HE WAS FREE but the little guy just stayed there and ran in place.

I felt a mixture of emotion. I wanted to laugh, cry or just pick him up and give him some hugs and soft words. I did it all.

We did get a fence up for Charlie, but he wasn't much brighter in that department. I would open the gate to let him out but he would stand where he was and walk "in place". I would get him and show him the way out.

Charlie continued to delight me over the years with his odd and loving ways, always bringing a smile to my face with few expectations. He loved chickens but definitely thought they were the enemy. If he caught one of them out of their cage, we might as well be prepared to have chicken for dinner because he certainly got it ready. He was also a cattle fancier. He liked control. He herded them up and kept them in a tight circle. He wasn't too sure what to do after that other than bite their legs and keep them there.

Later, when Charlie was more mature, he settled down as loving protector of his family and friends. He had an encounter of the wrong kind. We had a dear friend that the ambulance had to be called for, a friend that Charlie was very fond of. When the ambulance arrived Charlie immediately took the defensive, jumped his little short body of love onto the rear end of the EMT and bit hard. Needless to say, Charlie had to be grounded for quite some time.

I did not always condone Charlie's actions, but they were never mean spirited just innocence, love and dedication.

The EMT and others might call him by other names, but I called him ADORABLE.

HOMELESS

As I nestle down for the night,

I pull up a sheet of foul-smelling air

For pretense of warmth against the chill

Of a dark alley night. I ask aloud

"Where did my life go wrong,

Was the drink stronger than willpower,

Or the rigors of family rearing

Too demanding?" I hear an alley cat,

Of my acquaintance, living as I on

The discards of humanity.

I think of countless lights

Snapped on, in countless

Family rooms. Not all are lighting

Happy homes, but homes no less

They are. I hear children's laughter,

Oh - the priceless commodity of life.

The fate and whereabouts of family

And former friends I ponder,

Wondering if my presence

Is missed. The entities of my life were rich and many.

Before I succumbed to drink and wandering ways.

Does anyone truly know

How the Twilight of their lives

Will be played out?

- Larry L. Laws, Dalton Gardens

SNOW DIAMONDS

My footsteps leave timbrels of noises

As each icy step makes headway.

Each thought and each memory rejoices

Don't hurry away such a day.

The snowy fresh diamonds lay frozen

In coldness, yet warm warmest of thoughts.

The purest of memories are chosen,

These simple joys, can't be bought.

- Ramona Hollenbeck, Pinehurst