Chapter One

Sixteen-year-old loner David Blake meets new friends at school.

1

It was lunchtime at King High School. David stowed his school books in his locker and retrieved his paperback and sack lunch before making his way to the campus' outdoor commons. His usual spot near the edge, the low stone wall surrounding a flowerbed, was unoccupied as always, which was how he liked it. The first rule of being a nerd in high school was to not draw attention.
He sat on the two-foot-high wall and began eating with one hand, holding the book in the other. It was a couple of minutes before the stranger approached him. David looked up to see a tall slender Black youth standing over him.
The youth smiled. "How ya doing?"
A jock, come to have a bit of sport at the expense of the geek kid, was David's first thought. "Um, okay, I guess," he replied politely enough. Don't antagonize a bully unless you're ready to stand up to him.
The kid looked about his own age, probably not an upperclassman. David hadn't seen him before, but he personally knew almost none of the kids at his school, much less the dozen-or-so Black students who attended King. The youth was slender, not muscular but not really skinny either. Not a football player, maybe basketball? What does he want, anyway?
The kid offered his hand. "I'm Walker White. I'm a sophomore."
David relaxed then. Probably not here to bully him - bullies rarely introduced themselves so cordially. "David Blake," he said, taking the hand and shaking it. "Also a sophomore."
"You seemed a little nervous when I rolled up, my dude," Walker said. "You afraid of Black people?"
Aw, s**t, now he thinks I'm racist. "No, I'm sorry, it's not that at all. Sitting alone at lunchtime reading a book tends to be a bully magnet, is all. I've had much occasion to learn that that over the years."
"No worries, man," Walker said. "I know that all too well, believe me."
"I'll confess, I thought at first that you might be a jock. And that was probably because you're Black, which is prejudice, and I'm sorry."
Walker grinned. "Appreciate your honesty. And your self-awareness. My little brother Reese, he's the jock. He's fourteen."
His smile was infectious; David couldn't help returning it. "So what can I do for you, Walker White?"
Walker gestured at the book in David's hand. "I was wondering what you're reading. Looks like a science fiction novel, am I right?"
"You are," David said, holding it up to show the cover. It was Downbelow Station by C.J. Cherryh, the DAW edition showing the picture of a wheel-like orbital station with various spacecraft flying about it.
"Dope!" Walker said with enthusiasm. "I know it well. Great author, I've read a lot of her stuff. You ever read Cyteen?"
"Couple of times," David said, now completely comfortable with the former-stranger-turned-new-friend. He knows Cherryh is a woman and he knows at least one more of her titles - he's genuine. "It's actually one of my favorites."
"Then you might remember there was a board game called Starchase that the kids played? The first day Ari met Florian and Catlin, they played it?"
"I remember the board game, yeah. I'd forgotten what it was called. Why?"
Walker didn't answer. Instead he asked another question: "You want to sit here and eat lunch alone? Or would you like to come meet my friends and sit with us?"
David stuffed his partially eaten sandwich back into the bag and gathered his things. "Lead me."
Walker grinned again. "You testing me? Was that a Footfall reference?"
David grinned back. "Points to you. Let's go, I'd love to meet your friends."

There were four including Walker. The chubby blonde kid was Ben Rutherford, the tall gangly one with the Coke-bottle glasses was Wil Hanson, and the freckled redhead was Mike O'Malley. David was surprised to recognize all three.
"You're in Mr. Stark's fourth period Social Studies class," he said to Mike. "And second period English with Mrs. Ashley."
"Yep," Mike confirmed. "I've seen you, too. Pleased to finally meet you."
"Likewise," David said, then turned to Ben and Wil. "And you guys, you're in sixth period Japanese with me!"
"Hajimemashite." Ben made a little bow. Wil nodded and said "That's us all right."
David turned back to Walker. "So how do you know these guys?"
"Mike introduced me. We're both in AP math - pre-calculus."
David was impressed. He'd just squeaked through Geometry last year and was currently muddling through Algebra II.
"What's your story, David?" Wil asked. "We see you sitting alone every day, just reading."
"He's reading Downbelow Station," Walker told them. "He's read Cyteen more than once."
"Cool!" Ben exclaimed. "You know that game Ari and her friends, play, Starchase?"
"Walker asked me the same question," David said. "I'm guessing there's a particular reason you're asking?"
"Ben's got a talent for game design," Walker said.
"I made up a board game a few months ago, based on what I imagined Starchase would be like." Ben explained. "I made up rules, designed a board, created a pack of cards, and we've been playing it for a while now."
"It's really an excellent game," Mike told David. "Better than a lot of other games I've played."
"I like games," David said. "I'd like to try it some time."
"Are you busy after school today?" Mike asked him. "We're all going to my house to play it."
David brightened. "Just a minute." He brought out his phone, and texted his sister Miko: "Going to friend's house after school."
"?" was the reply, with an emoji of a face with wide, surprised eyes.
"Just met some guys, they're cool" he sent back, prompting a thumbs-up and a happy face in response.
"I'm in," he told the group. "Just had to cancel my ride home for today."

After sixth period Japanese, David left the classroom with Ben and Wil. They met Mike and Walker in front of the school, and walked together to Mike's house, about a mile from the school. Mike led them in the front door and everyone but Ben dropped their backpacks in the foyer by a shoe rack. Then he led them downstairs to the basement rec room. There was a sectional facing a seventy-inch TV screen, shelves of board games, and a card table with four chairs. Ben unpacked the game from his backpack and began setting up the board while Mike found a fifth chair for David.
David tried to recall how the Starchase game had been described in Cyteen. It had first appeared at a children's party. Players moved about the board representing Union space, buying stations and ships, engaging in trade and, occasionaly, combat. Ben explained the rules and game play to him, and the game before him seemed to follow this basic premise. As the play progressed, though, he found it surprisingly deep in strategy. He knew of a few games described as "easy to learn, hard to master", and Ben's Starchase easily earned a place in that category. David did poorly in the first game, which lasted about half an hour and in which Mike emerged dominant, though with strong competition from Walker and Wil.
Ben cleared the board and prepared it for another game. By this time, David was starting to get a feel for the dynamics of his new group of friends. Mike was bold and irreverent, Ben quiet and reserved, Wil full of nervous energy.
Walker was a mystery to him. He didn't seem to have any of the typical geeky social awkwardness that David and the other three shared, and appeared to be at ease with being the only black kid in a group of whites. Moreover, he seemed to be the unofficial leader of this group. He didn't give orders or directions, but the others clearly looked up to him with deference and respect.
"Why are you hanging out with guys like us?" he asked Walker point blank. "You're...." He trailed off, racking his brain for the right word.
"Black?" Walker suggested with a smirk.
"What?" David's face flushed. "Dude, no! It's not that at all!"
Walker chuckled, as did the others. "Relax, David. I don't think you're a racist. At least, not any more so than a typical suburban white kid."
"Um, thanks, I guess?" David tried to resume his previous train of thought: "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, you're not like us, you're... for lack of a better word, cool. You carry yourself like you know who you are, you're comfortable with it, and everyone else can like it or go to hell. I don't see why you aren't with a cooler group instead of with us."
Walker nodded, apparently understanding David's meaning. "Sure, I could hang with a 'cooler' crowd, pretend to like sports and cars and such, make the noises that they like to hear, to fit in with them. But that's just not me." He waved his hand to indicate Mike, Ben, and Wil. "These guys, they get me."
"Don't be fooled by his rizz," Mike told David with a grin. "Walker's one of us. He's actually more one of us than we are."
"I think you're one of us, too, David," Walker added. "That's why I approached you today."
A warm feeling spread through David's chest. It had been a very long time since he'd felt like he belonged with anyone outside his family, and now these four were welcoming him, accepting him. "I'm glad you did," he said to Walker. "I feel like I've found my tribe."
Walker clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the tribe."

"How did you guys come together?" David asked.
"Ben and Wil live close by," Mike said. "We've known each other for years."
"And Walker?" David turned to him. "You said Mike brought you in, and you're in the same advanced math class?"
Walker nodded. "That's right."
"I noticed Walker right away," Mike said. "I mean, it's hard not to notice the only Black kid in the room, especially when your school's got barely more than a dozen Black students in all. And I saw that he always seemed to have a science fiction book... usually a different one every day."
"I read fast," Walker explained. "Sometimes a big book takes me two or three days to finish, like Hyperion or Cyteen, but I burn through most of them in about a day."
"So after a couple of weeks of observing, I approached him after class and started talking to him, and he joined our group," Mike finished.
"Walker's read more sci-fi than any of us," Wil said. "Some of it stuff we'd never even heard of. He's always got a good suggestion of what to read next."
"I'll keep that in mind when I get close to finishing my current read," David replied. By that time Ben had the board ready, and they started to play a second round of Starchase.
"Ben," David said after several minutes, "This really is an excellent game."
Ben beamed at the praise. "You didn't play my initial version," he said. "It took a lot of playtesting with these guys to figure out what worked and what didn't. And I still don't know how it plays with more than five. In theory up to eight can play."
"Well, in its current form it's a winner. One of the best games I've ever played."
"What other games do you play?" Walker asked.
"My sisters and I play Catan sometimes," David replied. "Or Cards Against Humanity if we want something quick. When our parents join us, it's usually Apples to Apples - that's basically the same as Cards Against Humanity but less... edgy."
"Yeah, Apples is like the PG version of Cards," Mike agreed. "So you have sisters? What are they like?"
"They're cool," David said. "They're seventeen and eighteen. We get along great, but at school they have their own friends, and I don't fit in... that's why I sit alone."
"Well you don't have to sit alone any more," Walker reminded him. "We're your tribe now." David smiled again at the hitherto unfamiliar but welcome sense of belonging to a group.
"David," Wil spoke up, "do you like RPGs?"
"I've played a couple of Final Fantasy games on Playstation," he answered.
"No, not video games," Wil clarified, "I mean tabletop, with pencils and paper and dice."
"Oh. I've played some D&D years ago, in fifth and sixth grade."
"My parents are gamers," Wil told him. "They play Pathfinder with their friends, and they taught me to play first edition D&D. My mom DMs for my dad and me."
"Cool," David said.
"My dad's still got the rulebooks for all the games he used to play," Wil continued. "I've read through them a few times, and lately I've been writing a campaign set in a post-apocalyptic world, with a game system I stitched together from the best parts of my dad's old books. I'll probably have it ready to run for these guys in another week or so. Interested?"
"Hell yes, I'm interested," David answered. He was doing better at the Starchase game in this second match, now that he understood the rules and basic gameplay. He looked forward to more Starchase, and to playing in Wil's sci-fi world.
The game finished, with Mike the narrow winner again over Ben, but this time David had done better than Wil and Walker. "You learn quick," Walker commented.
"I think we'll call it an afternoon," Mike said. Ben started to pack the game away. David checked his watch; it was a little after 4:30. His father would be getting off work around this time and driving home from Bellevue.
"Where do you live, anyway?" he asked Walker.
"Inglewood," Walker replied.
"Inglewood? Like, Finn Hill area? I live out there too! Hey, maybe you can ride with me, we can get you to your neighborhod quicker than the bus will. What's your address?"
Walker told him, and David boggled. "I'd have to look at the map to be sure, but I think you're less than a mile from my house! Wait a minute...." He brought out his phone and tapped the address into Google Maps. "Yeah! You are!"
"How serendipitous," Walker commented. "Okay, if it's cool with your dad."
"I don't see why it wouldn't be." David took out his phone and tapped the contact "Dad".
"Hey, dad. No, everything's fine, don't worry. Listen, I didn't ride home with the girls. I met some guys at lunchtime, and we went to one guy's house to play a game. Yes, I know, right? Anyway, I'm in Kingsgate, not far from the high school, could you pick me up on your way in, please? Yeah? Thanks. I'll text you the address. Oh, and one of my new friends lives close by us, can he get a ride too? Yeah? Great. Thanks, Dad, love you too. See you soon."
Presently a dark blue Acura pulled up in front of the house. David and Walker said goodnight to Mike and walked out to the car.

Joseph Blake pulled up to the address his son had given him and parked in front. A few seconds later he saw David emerge, followed by a tall Black youth. The two approached the car; David opened a rear door and they both slid into the back seat. "Hi, Dad. This is Walker White."
"Pleased to meet you, Walker." Joe extended a hand, which Walker accepted and shook. Then he asked David: "Are all your new friends Black?"
"No, just me, Mr. Blake," Walker answered.
"David calls me 'dad'," Joseph told him, "but you can call me Joe if you want."
"Okay, Joe," Walker said. "Thanks again for the ride home."
"David says we're practically neighbors; it's no trouble at all. How'd you guys meet?"
David told his father about Walker approaching him at lunch, introducing him to his other friends, bonding over their shared love of science fiction, and the invitation to play at Mike's house.
"I'm glad to see you're making friends," Joe told his son. "You can't spend all your time alone or with your sisters."
"I think I'll be spending a lot of time with Walker and his friends going forward from today," David replied. "And now I might actually have a use for my car."
"You have a car?" Walker asked.
"Yeah, a Hyundai Accent, about twelve years old. Dad bought it for my birthday last summer, and I got my driver's license not long after."
"He usually rides to school with his sisters," Joe added. "Miko has a car too, and she drives them all."
"Yeah, and I hardly ever go anywhere other than school," David finished. "So I hardly ever use my car. But now... tomorrow I'll drive myself to school, and I'll drive us all to Ben's after school to play Starchase. And then you'll ride home with me..." He paused. "Actually, there's no reason not to pick you up in the morning, is there?"
"None," Walker said. "I usually take the school bus in the morning, and back home if I don't meet the guys after school."
They had arrived in the Inglewood-Finn Hill area, and Walker directed Joe to his home street. "Well, how about that?" Joe marveled. "Somebody could walk from our house to yours in about twenty minutes." He stopped the car. "What do your parents do?"
Walker smiled wryly. "How do we afford to live in a neighborhood like this, do you mean?" David winced at this. Joe smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess that's what I meant."
"My mom's a clerk in a law office," Walker said. "My dad's an accountant at MindYank." Joe's jaw dropped. "MindYank?" He paused a moment and said "Is your father Peter White?"
"That would be him, yes," Walker confirmed.
"I'm an account manager for MindYank," Joe said. "I've never met your father, but I know of him."
"Dude," David said, "How do our lives overlap this much? It's like we were meant to be friends."
"It does seem that way, yeah." Walker opened the car door on his side. He paused to bump knuckles with David. "See you tomorrow, my man," he said, and then to Joe: "Goodnight, Joe."
"Goodnight, Walker."
"See you tomorrow, dude," David called.

At dinner with his family that night he again recounted the events of his day, this time to his stepsisters Kimiko and Mayumi, and their mother Aoi.
David had lost his mother to cancer at ten years old. It had hit him hard, but his father had taken it harder. After Mary's passing, Joe Blake had been almost sleepwalking through his life, just going through the motions and doing the bare minimum necessary to keep himself and his son alive, fed, and housed. Then three years ago, a business trip had taken him to Tokyo where he'd met Aoi Kobayashi. He'd come back ebullient over meeting this divorced woman with two teenaged daughters just a little older than David. A long-distance romance proceeded over the next two years, with Joe returning to Japan in person five times, culminating in his proposing marriage and Aoi accepting. Last summer he had flown back to Japan with David in tow for the wedding. It was the first time David had ever left the United States; the novelty of another land and another culture had been exciting. It was also when he had first met the girls who would become his new sisters. Yumi and Miko were one and two years older than him, respectively, spoke excellent though noticeably accented English, and were the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Their mother was gorgeous as well, and though she was certainly at least twice Miko's age, she looked to be only a few years her daughter's senior. Nature had been very, very kind to the Kobayashi ladies.
The girls took kindly to him, pleased that their mother had found somebody who made her happy, and doubly pleased to have a new brother. Over the course of his week-long visit, they'd escorted David all over Tokyo, both on foot and via the underground trains, delighted to show him around their home city.
Joe and Aoi married in a small ceremony attended only by them and their children, and their best man and maid of honor - Joe's friend and co-worker Kevin Clark had flown in for the weekend to attend the ceremony and witness the certificate.
Over the next month the three ladies packed for their move to the United States, where they would live with Joe and David in the Kirkland area across the lake from Seattle.
When school started, Miko and Yumi fit in almost effortlessly. They were pretty and personable, and were now, less than a month into the school year, among the most well-known and popular kids at King High. David didn't interact with them much at school - he had asked them to not mention their relationship to him, in order to avoid attention from the popular crowd - but as he had told his new friends, the three were close at home, and often spent time together playing games or listening to music.
After dinner David retired to his room to do his homework, and the girls likewise did theirs in their own shared bedroom. David finished his homework and resumed reading Downbelow Station at his desk, and had been reading for about ten minutes when somebody lightly knocked on his door. "Come in," he called.
The door opened, revealing his visitors to be Miko and Yumi. "Hey girls," he greeted them. "What's up?"
They came in and sat on his bed, facing him at his desk. "I'm so happy for you, David," Yumi began. "We both are. It's good for you to have friends."
"Thanks," he said. "They seem like a great bunch of guys." To Miko he said, "I'll be driving myself to school tomorrow. I'm hanging out with them again after school."
Miko smiled. "That's wonderful. Are you going to play that game again?"
"Most likely." He had described Starchase to his family at dinner. "It's really amazing that Ben designed it himself. Starchase should be in boxes on store shelves."
"Maybe Ben-san can get it published and make that happen," Miko mused. "Has he thought about that?"
"I don't know," David confessed. "We mostly just played it and talked about other things. He said he's been fine tuning the balance as we play test it, and he thinks it's pretty much done."
The girls were silent a moment; then Miko spoke again. "Well, we just wanted to tell you we're happy that you're making friends."
"Thanks," he replied. "But we'll still hang out too, right?"
"Of course," Yumi said. "You're our brother. We love you."
"And I love you guys too. Thanks for checking in on me."
The girls stood up, and Miko made as if to leave, but Yumi suddenly asked: "Would you like to get back to your book, or do you want to listen to some music together?"
He brightened. "I'd love to listen to some music. I've read this book before anyway. What do you want to hear?"
"Some Nightwish or Within Temptation?" Yumi suggested.
Miko rolled her eyes. "You two and your heavy metal. Okay, have fun." She turned to the door, but David called out to her, "Miko, wait." To Yumi he said "Can we listen to something that Miko enjoys, too? I'd like to be with both of you."
Yumi pouted. "She'll probably want to listen to R&B ballads."
David thought for a moment. "How about Keiko?" Both girls had been known to enjoy the light jazz he often played to relax to - although Yumi didn't like it as much as Miko did - and piano composer Keiko Matsui was a favorite, with her unique fusion of "smooth jazz" and "new age" styles. He had actually introduced the girls to her music; they had never heard of her before meeting him.
"Okay," Yumi said, with less enthusiasm than when she had suggested Nightwish. David turned on the Bluetooth speaker on his desk, then picked up his phone and opened the Pandora app, selected his Keiko Matsui station, and set the mode to "artist only".
The three sat on the floor with their back to his bed, David between his sisters. Each girl took one of his hands and held it. This had made him uncomfortable the first time they'd done it, leading him around Tokyo, and he'd protested that they were his sisters and that he had no romantic designs upon them - but they had countered that hand-holding was no more inherently sexual than hugging, and they were merely expressing their sisterly affection through light physical contact. After a couple of days, he had grown to understand that this was just their way, and he accepted and even welcomed it. He realized that other than occasional hugs from his father and grandparents, he'd been starved for human touch before meeting his new sisters.
"There's nobody else who sounds like this," Miko commented as the first track began to play. It was something she felt the need to reiterate any time they listened to Matsui. "And you can tell she's Japanese, too. It's obvious in the way she writes her music."
"She is wonderful, isn't she?" Alex agreed.
"Yeah," Yumi begrudged. "She is really good."
They sat without speaking further as his phone played through six random tracks, before the girls released his hands and stood up. He rose with them, and they kissed his cheeks. "Oyasumi nasai, otouto-chan," Yumi said.
"Oyasumi nasai, nee-chan," he replied. They left to go back to their own room, and he prepared for bedtime.

Author's Note

This is a first draft of a work in progress.

Reviews

[JayG]

You're trying to do the impossible: transcribe yourself telling the story to an audience, because you've missed some critical points:

1. Storytelling is a very specialized performance art, where HOW you tell the story matters as much as what you say,

Why? Because, as the storyteller, you have no actors, no scenery, not even mood music. But it's the actor's performances that provide the emotional art of the story on film. And with that gone, the storyteller must provide that emotional component as part of THEIR performance. But... can the reader with nothing but what the words suggest to them, based on their life experience and punctuation, play the role of storyteller that you've assigned them, and tell the story as you would? Hell no. They can't know the emotion you'd place in the narrator's voice, the gestures, body language, and facial expression changes. So what you give them is a storyteller's script without performance instructions. Have your computer read the story to you to better hear what the reader gets. (try not to cry. 😆)

What you've forgotten is that on the page we do have all the actors, the scenery, and more. And we can take the reader into the mind of the protagonist—which is a powerful, and necessary, tool.
2. You're thinking visually in a medium that presents no pictures. Does the reader care which hand holds his sandwich? Those unneeded words slow the read and dilute impact. Our is a serial medium, where each thing must be spelled out, one-at-a-time, so every unnecessary word that's removed adds impact.
3. Thoughts are shown italicized.
4. One problem with "telling" a story is that you'll tend to leave out detail that seems obvious to you, but which the reader needs for context. But since it is obvious to you, you'll not see a problem...or fix it.

Added to that, because the only approach to presenting things you presently own is that of the nonfiction writing skills we're given in school, the presentation tends to be a chronicle of events, of the form: This happens...then that's said...then we..." And that provides all the excitement of a history book.

Fiction's goal, though, isn't to inform, but to entertain. We place the reader into the scene, as-the-protagonist, and, in real-time. We calibrate the reader's perception of the situation to that of the protagonist in all respects.

Why? We forget that the reader learns of everything that happens and is said before they know what the protagonist WILL do. So they'll analyze and react to it without knowing that.

Given that situation, do you want the reader to decide on what they think the protagonist should do based on their life, or, on the things the protagonist will use in deciding? If they use their own life experience they'll often disagree with the protagonist's choices, and that causes the reader to "fall out of the story." If they react as that protagonist is about to, though,bit will feel as if THEY are advising the protagonist, and living the events as that person. That's why we need to make the reader know the situation as the protagonist does.

In other words, instead of using the skills needed to write reports, any author should be using the Commercial Fiction Writing skills that the pros take for granted.

Make sense? All your life, you've been choosing only professionally created fiction. Can you see the tools as you read? No. But you do see, and react to, the result of using those tools. And, if they're not used? You'll quickly turn away.

More to the point, your reader expects YOU to use them, which is the best argument I can muster as to why you need to look into those skills.

You write well—better than most on the online writing sites. But you, like most hopeful writers, unaware that there is another approach, and unable to see the problems that approach causes, have fallen into the single most common problem in writing. It's so common that I call it, The Great Misunderstanding

The solution? Grab the necessary skills, make them yours, and there you are. Will that be a list of, "Do this instead of that?" Of course not. There's a LOT to it. But so what? You'll find the learning fun, and, the practice is writing stories. And, once you master those skills, the act of writing becomes a lot like living the events with the protagonist whispering suggestions and warnings in your ear.

Once, when I was writing, Kiss of Death, one of the characters basically, told me to go to hell, and that she was NOT the person I'd created her to be. Instead of being the sophisticated magazine writer I'd planned, she was a profane, sarcastic, and amazing, lap-dancer, who did what she wanted to do, ignoring my script.

And I fell in love with her. But because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop, come back, and keep following her directions, I wrote for 32 hours straight, stopping only for bathroom breaks and the food my darling wife placed in front of me with orders to eat or she'd pull the computer's plug.

I adored that woman. And I LOVE when the act of writing becomes that much fun.

So, to start: grab a copy of Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict from the site below:
https://dokumen.pub/qdownload/gmc-goal-motivation-and-conflict-9781611943184.html

It's a warm easy read, that feels a lot like sitting with Deb as she talks about writing. Use the skills she's given you for a few months, to make them yours. Then, try Dwight Swain's, Techniques of the Selling Writer.
https://dokumen.pub/techniques-of-the-selling-writer-0806111917.html

He was Deb's teacher, and is the most honored of writing teachers. I suggest reading it second because it's an older book, and a bit of a dry read in spots. But it is the best.

And based on your likes in sci-fi, if you've not read The Witches of Karries, by James H. Schmitz, you must. It's my all-time favorite (next to my novels, of course. 😂), and a fun read.

Sorry my news wasn't better. But don't let it throw you. The points I mentioned are unrelated to how well you write or talent. So, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
Articles: https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/
Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334

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“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”
~ Mark Twain

“In sum, if you want to improve your chances of publication, keep your story visible on stage and yourself mum.”
~ Sol Stein