new novel excerpt: song on the corner

Cormoran Lodge on Lake Kivu, Rwanda

A new chapter from my novel in progress has been published in Coastal Shelf as a novel excerpt. It's another piece that follows the expatriate doctors in Rwanda. 

Dr. Gregg Marcus has seniority at the Teaching Hospital since he's been in Kigali longer than any of the other American docs. But he's not himself lately and has stepped down from leadership as Chief of Staff. He is haunted by memories of home in Idaho. 

Should he leave Rwanda? What would become of his work at the Teaching Hospital? What becomes of a home once no one is left to live in it? 

--- (excerpt)

And don’t look at the sun. Bryce repeated the rules. It’s like 300 billion-billion mega- watts. Gregg was twelve. They’d cut class to watch the partial eclipse, and Bryce “borrowed” a welding shield from his shop class at the high school. They held the dark glass to the sky and took turns peering at the sun. The round, black shadow of the moon slid in from one side to scoop out the light, and the sun became a gold bowl that tipped up one side and rolled down the other.

No cheating. It’ll fry your retinas in an instant, Bryce said.

The danger made Gregg’s blood rush in his ears. It felt naughty or holy to stand on the edge of the canal behind the junior high school and feel the weight of the planet up through the soles of his feet.

You’ve never seen anything, until you’ve seen the sun through the rings of Saturn,

he quoted his favorite Saturday Afternoon Creature Feature.

 
Bryce laughed but not in a mean way. Whoa there, Melting Man. You’d sooner fall down a ladder and wake up dead than melt like a toasted cheese sandwich.

Gregg was no longer scared, and he never thought his brother wouldn’t always be there for him.

---

Read the whole story at Coastal Shelf: Song on the Corner. 

"And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars."

    ~ Shakespeare, from Romeo and Juliet 

writing workshop: going vertical

Join me and a small group of writers February 3 and February 10 for a two-part, online workshop about a creative writing strategy I call "vertical movement." New and experienced writers are welcome. We're going to read, write, and talk about creating depth in your fiction with this writing strategy. 

This is an interactive workshop series. I'll ask you to read two short stories, write to several prompts during our Zoom sessions, and complete one short, take-home assignment to bring to the second session for an interactive workshop review with your peers. 

This online workshop is part of the regular series of creative writing classes sponsored by The Stacks Coffeehouse (Thanks, Stacks!) Cost for both days is $40. 

Register online at The Stacks Coffeehouse:

  REGISTER for Going Vertical  

If you have any questions about the workshop, post them in the comments section below or message me on my FB page: facebook.com/Sherri.H.Hoffman. I'm always happy to hear from other writers. 

26 - a celebration

Letters in the English alphabet. 

Black cards in a full deck and, 

conversely, 

red cards in a full deck. 

The atomic number of iron, count of protons and electrons but 

not its neutrons. 

President Teddy Roosevelt. 

Bones in the human foot. 

The "Old Enough to Fight, Old Enough to Vote" amendment or, 

ironically, 

"Prohibition" plus "Protection against Cruel and Unusual Punishment." 

Dimensions in bosonic string theory. 

An opal wedding anniversary. 

The numeric value of the Hebrew name of God in the Bible, which 

only appears once. 

Asteroid Proserpina.
Ganglions in the sympathetic system. 

Rhombicuboctahedron.

postcard war: a stranger comes to town

"Pick an apocalypse, any apocalypse." 

~ John Gardner, from Grendel 

Early in the 2020 pandemic under travel restrictions and limitations on gatherings, my brother challenged me to a postcard war.  Game on. 

The rules are simple: the "winner" is the one who sends either the most audacious or highest quantity. I'm an overachiever. I try for both. 

I created this set with ink and pencil over found city images. Entitled "A Stranger Comes to Town," my work is inspired by the postcards of Steve McDonald, "Fantastic Cities," and the writings of author John Gardner, who taught that there are only two plots in all literature:

1. one goes on a journey; and
2. a stranger comes to town. 

I grew up in a military family that had moved 17 times by the time I was 13 years old, making me, at once, always on a journey and always the stranger. 

Rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond

Call me what you will...

~ Metallica, "Wherever I May Roam"

new fiction: The Way the Sun Falls on a Threshold

We knew him since we couldn't remember when, but none of us knew how he lost his eye until Maxie Adeline asked him flat out the summer we picked berries for him.

~ from "The Way the Sun Falls on a Threshold," by Sherri H. Hoffman.

Read the complete story online at The Saturday Evening Post, Contemporary Fiction, March 27, 2020.

There was a time when I did not know how to live. Somehow I survived myself long enough to make a connection to other people who had also not known how to live until something changed in them. There are many stories out there about how people find their way out of hopelessness. My personal story isn't Uncle Emerson's, and yet, it is exactly the same. It bears that same surprising, private, ineffable moment when the universe shifts inside a person, and life forever after is made different by the possibilities that open, which could have never been previously anticipated or even imagined.

My life is like that. I got something different, for which I remain grateful. Every single day.

~ Sherri

"Dance until your bones clatter. What a prize
you are. What a lucky sack of stars."

~ from "At Last the New Arriving," by Gabrielle Calvocoressi