Tag Archives: Fiction

But Night Crawler is so much more Evocative

Our yard in May contains the world. Wisconsin teems with life. For many of us living in climates where the temperatures are at or below freezing for so many months of the year, this is a heady experience. One day you’re wearing your jacket and mittens and looking at everything brown and gray, and almost like Dorothy’s arrival in Munchkinland, the next moment goes blindingly Technicolor.


A Few Minutes Ago…

It is grass that melting snow washes to emerald green. Tiny lime-colored leaves on black branches. Tulips, orange, and pink, and red. Daffodils, deep yellow and apricot. Lilacs, deep purple, lavender, and white.

FallWinter2015Mostly 010


Robin’s breast russet, and then those impossibly lovely blue shells their babies shed in unexpected places. I find one on the metal chair on the front deck. Cardinals, still here, looking tropical now, the crimson against the green. Red-winged black birds. White herons. Orioles, as orange as the fruit we feed them.

The sky at day, a brilliant blue, at night diamonds and velvet.


My husband calls me out to the yard.
“You have to see this.”
It’s dark and slightly cool. Wet.

He shines a flashlight across the lawn, catching the quiet, clandestine movements of thousands of earthworms.
They are everywhere. The lawn is undulating like the surface of a lake. I’m afraid I’ll hurt them.

He bids me come. “Step slowly. Lightly.”

I’m sure I shouldn’t be out like this, could never tread lightly enough. I say a quick prayer. “Please don’t let me do any harm.”

We stand together watching the glistening movement as the worms slide back into the ground. Everywhere the light hits them, they move. We talk about what they are doing. We’ve never learned.

I suspect they come up out the earth and the rich dark loom to gulp in the sweet, sweet air. My husband suspects it’s for sex.

We know very little about the life of worms. Such a common thing to know so little about. We feel silly, and are sure these must be things our parents were born knowing. Like the call of a mockingbird.

Then, a voice inside me says, Thibookworm-151738__180s is why they’re called night crawlers, Lori. And I know I am a complete dolt. How could this simple fact have escaped my attention all these years? Though it’s no excuse, night crawlers is not a term I ever remember being used in my family. Just earthworms, or simply worms. We didn’t fish, and we didn’t garden much. Out of sight, out of mind.

But “Night crawlers” is so much more evocative. Briefly, I picture little worm-sized, worm-shaped zombies crawling out of tiny worm-graves, marked by little crosses and a mausoleum or two—“Here lies Squirmy, Beloved Father and Husband”—our entire lawn a movie set for a new Tim Burton story.

graveimage                   How could I miss this?

“They’re good for the garden,” I say. (We’ve just planted tomatoes, peas, beets, onions, peppers, lettuce, and broccoli.)
As we walk back to the house, I think, “And fireflies will be next.”


Rachel “Lori” Pohlman, Copyright 2016

*For some interesting facts on worms, such as the fact that, yes, there is some sex involved in night crawling (but that’s not all they do), go to: http://blog.nwf.org/2014/02/ten-things-to-know-about-earthworms/.


Filed under Humor, Nature, Night Crawlers, Seasons, Uncategorized, Wisconsin, Worms, Writing

Fireside Chats in Springtime


Early Spring 2015 048

Silly me. I had this idea to write a WWII-era literary fiction novel a while back. Quite a while back.

I spent a lot of time researching in between writing scenes. I felt I had a decent grasp on the time period; my dad was a WWII marine—I grew up waking to The Marine Corps Hymn–and though I majored in English, not history, I spent a good deal of time learning about and teaching the Holocaust to my eighth-grade classes when I taught The Diary of Anne Frank. I even wrote a YA novel about a Polish boy falling in love in war-torn Poland for my Master’s thesis in creative writing.

I’d just need to check a few dates here and there, maybe read a few more books and immerse myself in the movies and music of the 1940s, and presto! I’d be good.

Not so true.

What is true is that old saying about “the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don’t know.” Today’s epiphany: Go Deeper. I stumbled into going deeper today almost by accident. I was looking up a few Roosevelt quotes for a scene in my manuscript where my protagonist listens to the president on the radio. Just a few lines, you know, to add realism and texture to the scene.

                                                                                                Paris to home 2013 033   GO DEEPER

And I find myself, hours later, too torn up to write the scene. I’ll write it tomorrow, or maybe the next day. You see, I found recordings of Franklin D. Roosevelt speaking to the American public. I listened to them. Then I found recordings of the broadcasts made by the journalists who had followed him throughout his long presidency talking about him on the day of his death.

These recordings are priceless. You will need Kleenex. And maybe a dog. Or a loved one nearby. Luckily, my protagonist has a hankie, a dog, and a brother.

Fireside Chat           (Not my photo)                 Silly me? Yes. But also grateful me.

If you haven’t done so, and you’re interested, go to http://www.fdrlibrary.marist.edu/archives/collections/utterancesfdr.html to get started.

Three dates you might be interested in:

January 11, 1944: Radio Address to the Nation- State of the Union message to Congress (30 min.)

November 2, 1944: Campaign radio speech from the White House—“The World is Rising” (15 min.)

December 24, 1944: Christmas Eve Address (5 mins.) Make sure to stay tuned for The National Anthem that immediately follows.

Rachel “Lori” Pohlman, Copyright2016



Filed under Fireside Chats, HIstorical Fiction, Literary Fiction, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Radio, Research, Uncategorized, World War II, Writing

Yoga Epiphanies and Full-Time Fiction, February 24, 2015

Owl Bar SundanceThursday or Friday, if you’ve been following me, are usually my Pub Fiction Nights. On these nights I set myself up in a pub and inconspicuously suck in and record the atmosphere. I know. Poor me. Lest you become too jealous, let me give you a bit of background.

I suck (and not just atmosphere).

Ok, that’s a little harsh. I don’t always suck. What I mean is, even though I am a writer at heart, since my earliest memories I have both known and simultaneously rejected the dream. Being a writer, right. From my perspective, I might just as well have wanted to be an astronaut or a movie star.

And I needed to earn a living. I always tended to let inconsequential things like paying the rent or buying groceries come in between me and my dream of being a full-time writer. Fine. Didn’t have a trust fund. Not many people do.

But here’s the thing. I am not getting any younger. And even during all of those years of working at not being a full-time writer, guess what? I wrote. I wrote two novels in fact while working full-time, and that doesn’t suck at all—but even so, I never felt like a real writer. I sent each of those novels out a few times, particularly the second one, but mostly I just kept them in a drawer and went on with my “real” life.

And then, and then… after a year coming to grips with my own mortality through cancer and two incredible decades of teaching eighth graders, I reached an age, that certain age, where I had a bit of money invested in retirement, and was able to say, “Time to go.” The plan was, I’d meet up with my husband across the country where he’d started a new job. I would live the literary life. Get those books published. Write more books. Really be a Full Time Writer!

Only I haven’t been writing full-time…more like some-time, between the avoiding-writing-times.

Tuesday is my Yoga night. During Corpse Pose it came to me. Yes, during that time when your mind is supposed to be completely relaxed and clear of all thoughts. That’s when I had my Ah Ha! Moment. My realization is this: My problem is not that I can’t write regularly and with complete commitment because I need to pay for my new partial dentures or that I have to be employed in order to feel valuable. Nor is it because the kitchen and bathroom floors are torn up indefinitely while my husband struggles to correct major and unexpected structural issues that we can’t afford to pay a contractor to fix. All of these things are distractions, true, but they aren’t such big obstacles to writing, not really.

Here’s my problem:  I need someone to report to, to produce for; otherwise, I will dilly-dally around with this new novel for years. That’s what I mean by “I suck.” For the first time in my life I have the time to write, yet I spend more time looking for a new job than I do writing—all kinds of ridiculous jobs—anything to distract me for a day or two or ten until I either get an outright rejection or I just never hear back so my excitement fizzles. Ho-hum, guess I’ll write a sentence or two on the novel then since I didn’t get that mad scientist job…

I am a teacher, and I love lessons! Bingo! I applied for a job recently that required I complete an assigned task. I was thrilled the entire time I was working on that assignment, couldn’t wait to get it turned in. I didn’t get the job, but I learned a valuable lesson about myself. I work best when I work for someone other than me.

When I taught language arts the biggest thrill was in the relationships, and sharing of knowledge. I wasn’t writing lessons in a vacuum, they were written in the classroom, constantly changing, adjusting to the needs and moods of the students and the days—the lessons needed to breathe to be compelling. So it is with my writing.

So I’m going back to the classroom, in a way, investing in my own education once again. There are many courses I want to take through the University of Wisconsin, Madison Continuing Studies Writing Program, but I’ll choose one for now. I hope to begin soon. It will force me to focus. This is not to say that I won’t become gainfully employed one of these days; if the right offer comes along, I’ll take it! But whether I work outside the home again or not, one thing is for certain, I will be writing, full-time. Early Winter 2014 to 15 047


Filed under Writing Advice

Fact or Fiction? Writing Tips from Writers Digest


One of the great things about online media is that sometimes you find just the advice you need at that moment.  This short piece regarding writing fiction based on true events came at the right time for me. I have been finding myself trapped between two opposing needs: to tell the truth, and to protect others.  Maybe, according to this article, I can do both. I hope you find it useful.

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One of the Smart Things…’Cause Why Tell You the Dumb Stuff?

Importfromcell6272014 489Writing Log

One of the smart things I do occasionally, though not as often as I should, is attend writing events, such as book signings, workshops, and lectures.  At each of these events, I endeavor to follow through on at least one suggestion that strikes me as being easy to accomplish (Did I really say easy? I meant one that I thought to be a practical and intelligent idea).  Smirk.

This past week I attended a lively and informative lecture given by Amy Gail Hansen, former English teacher and author of The Butterfly Sister, her first novel, published in 2013 by William Morrow, an imprint of Harper Collins Publishers.  She is nearly a local author; she lives in neighboring Illinois, and attended college here in Wisconsin.  In fact, her guest lecture took place at her alma mater, Carthage College, just here in Kenosha, which also happens to be one of the central settings for her novel.  Pretty neat.

In addition to being a lively, personable, humorous speaker, Ms. Hansen, was also generous with sharing writing tips and publishing industry information.  I really can’t say enough nice things about her—just a lovely person.  You can learn more about her at www.amygailhansen.com

The practical and intelligent idea I’ve decided to follow through on from Amy Gail Hansen’s lecture, is this—I’ve decided to begin keeping a Writing Log.  This, not to be confused with a Writing Blog, or a Journal; those are two totally separate things, sort of.  I find that when it comes to writing, everything leaks.  And I think that’s good. As a former writing project colleague says, “If it goes into my head, it goes into my writing.”

I’m not planning to keep the log on the blog (damn, I love rhyme), but I’m thinking if I make the commitment here, I have a better chance of following through.  Writers make lots of promises to themselves.  I will write every day.  I will always have something out there—out in the world—that it would be much easier to keep here, safely tucked away.  I will be brave.  I will finish project A, B, C, and D before beginning Project E.  I will set up a defined and sacred writing schedule…I will not be distracted by news of the day, or Facebook, or those adorable text messages my granddaughter is sending me right now from far away in California…

So, you get the idea.  Some of these promises I actually know I will not keep.  Shocking, right?  Honestly, I know I can do better, though I don’t expect, really not ever, one-hundred percent adherence.   That might stunt my creativity!  And, come on, no grandmother can ignore a text from her growing up too fast and won’t always have time for me granddaughter—that’s just criminal even to think about.

I will, however, keep a Writing Log beginning Monday, August 18, 2014.

The Writing Log shall include:





Wish me luck!  And please, share your ideas.  Comments are most welcome.

Mahalo.  Lori.

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Pub Fiction

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