My short-short story, Seventy-four, will be included
in this year’s California Writers Club anthology,
The Shorts, Too! ~ A collection of stories and poems under 75 words.




Seventy-four
This is one of those nights - a quiet evening, stretched out on the sofa, listening to soft, sweet, sexy music, sipping a leathery red wine. Yes, it's one of those nights. Dinner over, time on my hands, the dense scent of cut tropical flowers buttering the air. One fat candle lit for just me. I'd love to share the kissable sensuality of it. And long ago, in another life, I did.    

June 21st is my birthday. You can guess how old I'll be in years, but I’ve lived eight lifetimes so far:
1.) solitary, (friendless) imaginative childhood,
2.) synchronized swimming teen years,
3.) dreadful 18-21 in Buffalo, New York,
4.) romantic early twenties and first marriage in California,
5.) divorce and the complicated relationships that followed, intertwined with:
6.) teaching, solo motherhood with two beautiful daughters, 2 years on St. Thomas USVI,  and buying my own home,
7.) bereaved motherhood with a trial, travel, and a book,
8.) The Present: grandmotherhood with one beautiful daughter, son-in-law, and a grandson.

Unrequited love has been a through-line in my story. Once upon a time, I thought I’d make the perfect wife. Seems the men in my life thought otherwise. For years, I wondered: Is it me? Then, I thought: Is it them? And finally, I realized: It IS me. I grew up friendless, unschooled in the art of compromise. My life lesson this time around seems to be learning how to stand on my own two feet. I built my present life on my own and that fills my heart with pride. It also precludes anyone else from sharing a piece of my life or my heart. For the past 10 years, this heart has been awash with grief. No one can penetrate the leaden wall of sorrow encasing it, nor do I want them to. I went through this alone; I will build myself back up alone. Back in the day, I would have longed for a close friend to help me. Now? Solo construction is what I know how to do, so I'll push up my sleeves and dig in. 

Like a cat, I think I have one more life in this incarnation. I’d better start planning now to use my independence wisely. 

https://millvalleylibrary.libcal.com/event/15868357

Mill Valley Public Library Mill Valley Public Library Events
Panel: On Grief and Healing In-Person
The Mill Valley Library presents a panel of talented local authors who have written about the complicated topic of grief and healing. Featuring Colleen Dolan, Julia Park Tracey, and Carol Bruce. Moderated by Christine Walker.
 
Colleen Dolan is a writer, certified Grief Educator, and facilitator for the Compassionate Friends of Marin. Her daughter, Chelsea Faith Dolan, was a well-respected electronic musician and producer known professionally as Cherushii. Chelsea died in the Ghost Ship fire, one of 36 talented young friends who attended a party on the second floor of the warehouse. Colleen witnessed the fire on December 2, 2016 and attended every day of the trial two years later. Her book The Ghost Ship Fire chronicles her journey from the night of the fire to her eventual acceptance of grief as an ongoing part of her life. This book is written for bereaved parents searching for the How and Why of their children’s deaths.

Carol Bruce is the author of Son on the Run, the story of a brilliant young man who, in his late 20s, fell into the turbulent waters of schizophrenia. It tells of his action-packed worldly travels and a graphic rendition of his mother’s emotional plea for help.

Julia Park Tracey is an award-winning career journalist and author. Inspired by a mysterious train receipt in her family's scrapbook, she researched her Orphan Train roots and wrote The Bereaved. Another such ancestor is the Puritan woman named Silence Greenleaf; Silence: A Novel is published by Sibylline Press. New fiction in November 2025 is Whoa, Nelly! —a contemporary journey into literary fandom by a lonely librarian who lives through a fixation on the Little House books.
​
Christine Walker is a visual artist and author of the novel Tap Dancing at the Bluebird and the narrative nonfiction A Painter's Garden: Cultivating the Creative Life. She is also a creative consultant in strategic visioning and a writing teacher with an MFA in Writing and Literature from Bennington College and an MA in Creative Arts Interdisciplinary from San Francisco State University. With her composer husband, Dennis Hysom, she co-created Wooleycat children’s media. They live in Sonoma County, CA, where she is painting “Comings & Goings in Joy & Light,” in honor and remembrance of their son, Quinn, and writing a book in conversation with his poems and journals. Quinn died in 2020 at the age of 31.

Date:
Wednesday, April 8, 2026
Time:
6:00pm - 7:30pm
Time Zone:
Pacific Time - US & Canada (change)
Location:
Creekside Room
Audience:
  Adults  
Categories:
  In Person     Literary > Author Talk  Registration is required. There are 79 seats available.

 https://www.salon.com/2025/03/23/dolores-claibornes-shocking-twist-bitchery-isnt-a/?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTAAAR3S1mLr3Io5sKsfiiAMcFI8ns0qzTwYwCYkYIjLa-6JBxQRookQg5fjBM4_aem_J3aRMqSvSgw8XMI41RF2VA​

The shocking twist of "Dolores Claiborne"? Being a difficult woman isn't a crime New interviews with the "Dolores Claiborne" cast and creators reveal how it subverted a popular '90s trope 
​By Tom Joudrey
Published March 23, 2025 1:30PM (EDT)
​

Seventeen years after I wrote a chapter in Tony Magistrale's The Films of Stephen King anthology, I was contacted by Salon Magazine. My take on the film Dolores Claiborne was exactly what the author Tom Joudrey was looking for: I praised the Bitch. 

It took a long time for the world to catch up with my defense of ornery women. It isn't our job to present a smiling, sexy front for the male gaze. In my opinion, Stephen King is a feminist for presenting a female protagonist as an older, unattractive, bitchy woman as the heroine. She leads her vile, alcoholic pedophile of a husband to his own demise. And Dolores nearly acquiesces to her elderly friend's desire for her to end the older woman's long-suffering life. She's not exactly a sweet old lady, but never does King show Dolores to be an evil woman. Ornery, yes. Evil, no. I love that. Obviously, Salon Magazine loved that, too. 

About fucking time. 

It's been 17 years since I wrote that chapter, and 15 years that I've been single. I always said Kevin would be my last lover, meaning I thought we'd be together until I died. Nope. We split up when it was finally clear to me that he liked me a lot but he didn't love me. I was a convenience, not a partner. Leaving him was an act of self-preservation. It hurt to leave, but it was more painful to stay. I felt then, and still do, that it isn't necessary for a woman to put up with a lopsided affair or a half-hearted relationship out of fear of being alone. 

Despite lots of well-meaning advice to "get out there again," I've remained single and it's been one of my better decisions. I got through the death of my daughter without the help and support of a man beside me. Truly, that's the one time I desperately needed a man, and pretty much what I thought a marriage should be... shouldering the tough times together. But I had to get through it alone. I've endured the worst pain I can imagine by myself. At this point, why bother?

Now, I'm one of those weird, old women who lives alone and mutters to herself. 

I've thought about dating over the last 15 years, and I've had offers from friends to introduce me to "nice older men." No, thank you. I want to travel to see my friends around the world, or simply stay home in my pajamas without comment or criticism. I want to get in my car and drive to the coast or buy some frivolous doo dad for my house without justifying or explaining my reasons. 

And dressing to please a man? No. I recently donated all my high heeled shoes and boots to Goodwill. Why was I hanging onto those uncomfortable things? Sure, there was a brief time in my life when I wore short pencil skirts and spike heeled shoes for the man in my life. The blisters lasted longer than the relationship. 

In the movie Dolores Claiborne the three women, mother, daughter, and crone, all share the quote, "Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman can hold on to." Being a bitch means speaking the truth and holding true to oneself. Why is that seen as ugly? Why does "being attractive" mean biting one's tongue and wearing uncomfortable clothes? Why does it mean smiling and nodding at others when one's life is falling apart? 

Shortly after my daughter, Chelsea, died, I found myself walking in a daze through a grocery store. Chelsea was a vegan, and my younger daughter had a gluten-restricted diet. Shopping meant thinking clearly about what foods I would buy. Suddenly, I found myself shopping without Chelsea in mind. It was too much and I started to cry. A man took it on himself to "cheer me up." He said, "Smile, it can't be that bad." 

Why would a man do that? He didn't know me, but he wanted me to smile. Why? I just looked at him and spit out, "My daughter just died." You never saw anyone turn and run as quickly as he did. That right there was me being a bitch. Totally justified. Ungraceful. Bitch. I'm glad I said it. It wasn't my job to make him feel better. And it wasn't his job to try to make me a more attractive woman in his eyes. Sometimes women are just human... and that isn't always pretty.  

booksfortanmay
 4d
Book: Ghost Ship Fire

Author: Colleen Dolan

Review: Ghost Ship Fire recounts the tragic story of the 2016 Oakland warehouse fire, a horrific blaze that claimed the lives of 36 young people. Colleen Dolan, the mother of one of the victims—a well-known musician named Cherushii—relives that dreadful night, waiting outside the burning building, desperate for news of her daughter. Moving beyond the immediate tragedy, the book delves into the intense, high-profile criminal trial that followed. Colleen shares her journey from that painful night to her search for justice, giving readers an intimate view into the emotional and legal aftermath of a disaster that shocked the nation. Her account reveals the public’s hunger for drama in times of tragedy and explores the deeply personal and isolating journey of a mother seeking answers amidst intense media attention and a protracted legal battle.

What I found compelling about this book was the raw honesty in Colleen’s story. She doesn’t shy away from describing the heart-wrenching details of her loss, but she balances this with strength and resilience as she navigates a complicated legal system. Her writing captures both the public spectacle and the quiet, deeply personal pain of losing a loved one in such a senseless tragedy.

Colleen’s careful documentation of the trial, along with her insights into her own grief, offered a perspective I rarely see in true-crime or disaster narratives—a focus on the human element and the dignity in mourning and seeking justice. The book’s tone was thoughtful and reflective, making it more than a retelling of tragic events; it felt like an exploration of grief, resilience, and the power of a mother’s love.