Going Off Script (Part 2) by Diane Bator

 

Introducing: 

All That Shines

Book 2 in Glitter Bay Mysteries

Sage Miller is knee deep in fashion designers—whether she wants them in her new vintage boutique or not.

One winds up dead.

Another isn’t what he seems.

A third is treasure hunting.

Sage is stuck in the middle trying to solve a murder before the grand opening of Vintage Sage, which involves a fashion show she’d rather not be part of.

Join in the fun! Buy links are on my BWL Publishing page: http://bookswelove.net/bator-diane/

More of Going Off Script...

This year has been a busy one for me! Not only do I have a beautiful new novel to add to my list, but I've been taking a playwriting course. The great thing with taking a sidestep from novel writing to playwriting, is that I enjoy writing dialogue to help propel the story along.

My first playwriting class was more of a basic overview of scripts. One thing I learned was that actors and directors don't like to be told what to do, so keep stage direction to a minimum. As part of a play I'm currently working on, I'm reading The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. The stage directions make up nearly half the script! I was surprised.

After the first class, we had to write a 1-2 page scene. I had fun with that and got great feedback. I'd share, but I plan to work on it and create a whole new play from it. Okay, maybe a teeny bit. So far it doesn't have a title:

 

Frank:            Did you hear those kids? For god sake, they’re more worried about some fancy wedding than the fact she isn’t even listening to a word he says.

Carrie:           What did you say, dear?

Frank:            Really? I’m two feet away from you and you didn’t hear a word I said.

Carrie:           That’s not true. I heard you ask if I heard those kids. That’s when I tuned you out.

Frank:            And why did you tune me out?

Carrie:           Because I saw cheesecake on the menu and started to daydream about eating it only I realized I should just end up rubbing it on my stomach and thighs since that’s where it would end up anyway.

Frank:            You’re right. That does sound much better than what I was saying. Please, go on.

I have to admit, it was a bit weird hearing and seeing other people read my words for the first time. It was a fun experience and I was absolutely giddy hearing their feedback. What a great boost for the heart and soul!

While I love writing books, mysteries in particular, writing for stage is a whole different beast. With books, writers can add the details they envision. Each movement or look, the color and placement of the furniture, the things they want the audience to see. Plays are staged at the discretion of the director and performers and can be open to interpretation.

Week two, we were asked to submit 4-5 pages that were the beginning of a play. I took a deep breath and submitted the one I’ve been toying with since January 2020 called Secrets That Haunt Them. A murder mystery complete with a ghost.

Week 3, they read my few pages of my play. I heard lots of great feedback. The only concern was there were a lot of characters. Anything more than 5 or 6 characters becomes an expensive production. Mine has 7. It was fun to hear it brought to life though! At the end of class, we were invited to submit a monologue. I didn't send one. Instead, I started on a whole new play...

After Week 4, my confidence was up there a little. While I haven't received critique from my instructor, I did get feeback from the Artistic Director of the theatre where I work. I have some work to do - after all, it is my first play ever! - but overall he loved it. The concept of having too many characters came up again so the next step is to clean it up and submit it back to him so we can set up a workshop. 

Workshopping a play is lining up some great actors to read the lines while the playwright sits back and makes edits like crazy if they hear lines are too tough to follow or say, take out things that aren't funny, or even add in ideas from the director or actors as the playwright thinks will benefit the performance. We sort of did that in Week 2 & 3 with the lines I wrote above. I have to admit it was both cool and nerve-wracking to hear people read my writing aloud. 

Hopefully, we'll be able to perform it on stage one day. For now, I'm enjoying the launch of All That Shines and will get to my edits for the play soon.

This may be the start of a whole new path along my writing journey!

Have a fabulous day!

Diane Bator 

The Smells of Easter

 I love Easter. To me, it's the beginning of new life. It also brings back many memories. Memories of days long past. 

Easter was a busy time in our house during the ’50s.  It began Holy Wednesday, with the baking of our special Easter bread, Paska*, or Babka, as it’s sometimes called.  My sisters and I helped gather the ingredients and set them on the table. Mom stood on a chair and took out the special round pans from the cabinet above the refrigerator. She used those pans only for Easter bread. I’m not sure why, but this bread had to be round. 

 First, we measured the milk and set it on the stove to scald. Next Mom measured the yeast. I loved the smell of it. One year, enticed by the aroma, I stuck my finger in it and tasted it. I couldn’t’ get rid of the bitterness out of my mouth and my brothers, sisters, and mom laughed at me for being foolish enough to try it.  Of course, no one tried to stop me either.  I wondered how something that smelled so good could taste so bad.  

Once the ingredients were mixed together Mom began kneading the dough.  I thought it looked like fun until I got older and she let me try it. Kneading bread dough is hard work and we had to knead it until it blistered. When she kneaded it enough, it was set to rise.  We often sneaked in the kitchen and pinched off a piece and ate it. Something about the taste of raw dough kept us coming back, no matter how much my mom yelled at us. 

After an hour or so, Mom turned the dough out onto a special board my uncle made for her from an old maple table. She reserved a small piece of dough and cut the remainder into even portions for the loaves.  She put the loaves in the pan and took the reserved dough, rolled it between her hands like a snake and cut off pieces to form a cross on each loaf, and after letting it rise again, she put them in the oven. The savory smell of fresh-baked bread filled the house for hours.  The bread was then stored in plastic bags for Easter Sunday and no trying to sneak a piece. 

Holy Thursday was beet-making day.   My mother used fresh beets and horseradish for this delicious relish*.  After she cooked the beets, she grated them on the small side of a grater and suffered many a skinned knuckle. In later years, she purchased six cans of whole beets and a jar of horseradish from the grocery store. I’m not sure what gave her the idea, maybe she got tired of skinned knuckles, but one year she brought out her old meat grinder and attached it to the table, added the beets, grinding them into a finely shredded consistency. I loved watching the beets come through the grinder.  After the beets were ground, mom boiled vinegar, added sugar to it, and mixed it with the beets. When it cooled she added horseradish, tasting it until it was just right.  The vinegar blended with the pungent horseradish and filled the house with its stinging smell. If we got too close it made our eyes water.  

On Good Friday Mom baked a ham and boiled kielbasa.  The kielbasa had been in the refrigerator for several days and very time we opened the refrigerator door, the rich garlicky aroma tantalized our taste buds. Sometimes we opened it just to get a whiff.  As the aroma of the ham and kielbasa wafted through the house our mouths watered, but since it was Good Friday, samples of the delicious smelling meats were forbidden.  We could hardly wait until Easter.  

 Friday night, Mom made sirok*, Easter cheese.  We called it yellow thing.   My older sister and I cracked several dozen eggs into a large pot and beat them with the electric mixer. Mom filled another larger pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. After we added milk, sugar, and nutmeg to the eggs, we beat the mixture a little more. Mom then took the mixture to the stove and set that pot inside the large one, creating a double boiler.   We took turns mixing it since it needed constant stirring.  As the mixture began to curdle, it formed a solid almost scrambled egg texture. The liquid separated and turned a bluish-green. Once it curdled, Mom poured it into a colander lined with cheesecloth.   While it drained, she tightened the cheesecloth into a ball and tied it.  She hung it over the sink from a hook and let it drain overnight.   In the morning, she removed it from the cheesecloth. The sweet-spicy smell of the nutmeg lingered for hours.  

Saturday afternoon, Mom sent one of us to the attic to get the blessing basket.  She lined the basket with a towel, set a loaf of bread, a large piece of ham, kielbasa, sirok, several hard-cooked eggs, and a small container of beets into the basket and covered it with a fancy white doily that she crocheted especially for it. The blessing of baskets was a custom from the old country and even though we lived in Ohio, many churches carried out this tradition. Some still do  and my sister and her family take a basket to be blessed every year. It's a family tradition for them and even the kids, although grouwn still go with them, but that's another story. 

  My father, sisters, and I took the basket to church. This was a special service and before the blessing, we removed the doily.  The Priest went up and down the aisle sprinkling Holy Water over the congregation and baskets of food.   

Easter Sunday after church, Mom took out the blessed food and everyone had a small piece of it for breakfast. After smelling all these delicious aromas for the past four days, we savored the taste. Easter was not only a time to rejoice in the new beginning through Christ but a time to share the love of family and good food.  

 

*Paska or Babka is sweet bread usually with yellow raisins. 

*Sirok – a yellow round ball made from equal amounts of milk and eggs (1 dozen eggs to 1 quart of milk) add sugar and nutmeg to taste.  

 

Beet Relish 

6 cans whole beets grated 

½ cup white vinegar, boiled 

2/3 cup sugar   

Horseradish to taste 

In a large bowl, grate the beets.  Boil the vinegar. Add the sugar to it and let it cool slightly, then pour it over the beets.  Add horseradish to taste. I start with 2 tablespoons, but depending on hot you want it more can be added. 

Geriatric Rebel Available from BWL Publishing

 Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.

Seventy-year-old, Elsa is left in the home while her son takes a family vacation. She joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?

Who says life begins at 40? Life is wonderful at any age, as long you're willing to live it. Elsa Logan and Mike Powell prove it. And I want to be just like them when I grow up! One of Roseanne Dowell's best, and my personal favorite!
Elsa Logan bears a striking resemblance to a romance writer I know who shall be nameless but whose initials are R. D. ~ Romantic Suspense Author, Gail Roughton

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