Roadwork
August 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Columns, Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as relationships, short fiction, vacations, writing
Carrie’s SUV coasted to a stop along I-78, the rest of the weekend morning traffic zooming past, hurrying on their way to Dorney Park or the Poconos farther on. The dashboard lights flashed a warning, but she already knew the problem.
“What did the mechanic say about the oil pressure?” She grabbed her phone to call for a tow truck, but first frowned at Hugh. He glanced away and shrugged.
“Maybe a leak.”
“Maybe?” She shot him a glare then spoke to the Triple A contact, who assured her someone would be there within a half hour. A semi passed the vehicle at seventy, rocking the SUV in its wake.
“And did he fix it?”
Hugh did what he usually did when confronted with an example of his failure to carry through. He turned the tables back onto the confronter.
“You could have checked it yourself.”
Five years. Their nickel anniversary. A planned weekend getaway lay two hours north and west, at a lakefront Airbnb. Which now looked like a long shot, given the dashboard oil light and a thirty-minute wait for a tow. And then probably pricey repairs.
Three of those years had been a joy. The last two, not so much. Yet, altogether a major improvement over her ex, who had kept his cheating ways so hidden, she’d felt like the ultimate stooge when she finally learned the truth.
Carrie chose a smile over the irritated sigh that threatened to burst out. “I’m looking forward to our mini-vacay, hon. It doesn’t do any good to point fingers at this point.” Her phone pinged. The tow driver. “Fifteen minutes, he says.”
In truth, she wasn’t excited about the end-of-summer weekend ahead. She’d be back in front of a classroom of seventh graders in just a few days, and had suggested the trip as a way to glue the fractures threatening to cleave their relationship. She didn’t much care for sitting at the edge of a lake, but Hugh fished, and the rental included a dock and a small boat. Her hope lay in what happened between them when he wasn’t dangling his line in the water. Or staring into his laptop.
The growl of a 500-horsepower engine edged up beside the SUV, and then the flatbed truck pulled onto the shoulder in front of them.
Carrie met the driver between the vehicles to confirm the tow details. Hugh emerged from the passenger side and hung back, hands in his shorts pockets. If he spoke, she didn’t catch it over the rush of the highway traffic only a few feet away. Exhaust fumes eddied around them.
She moved to the far edge of the shoulder, and Hugh followed, as the driver readied to position the SUV on the flatbed.
“Allentown,” Carrie said, raising her voice over the traffic noise. “It’s this next exit. There’s a service station that can take a look.” The morning sun beat down on them, waves of absorbed heat flowing up from the concrete. She pulled her sleeveless tee away from her back, damp with sweat. “We’ll be on our way by noon, maybe.”
Why did she always feel the need to be upbeat around Hugh? She was like a defective tire jack, continually boosting up the car of their relationship but never quite able to get the wheel off the ground. Maybe it was time to fold up the jack and let it go.
In the cab of the tow truck, Carrie let Hugh ride next to the driver and she took the window seat. She lowered her window to escape the stifling odor of cigarette smoke.
“Where you headed?” the driver said, putting the truck into gear.
Carrie prepared to give a brief summary of their weekend plans, but Hugh answered first, a surprise.
“We’ve rented a place on a lake,” he said, a hint of eagerness in his tone. “Good fishing. Good weather, we hope. About two hours from here.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand, a second surprise.
When had he last done that?
“Yep,” the driver said. He switched on his signal to exit the highway. “Looks like a fine couple days for you. The station’ll get you squared away. Don’t you worry.”
Carrie squeezed Hugh’s hand back.
The trip looked better already.
Dianna’s Books
Anyone remember paper dolls? Why AI can’t compete with a trip down memory lane by Jina Bacarr
August 11, 2025 by Jina Bacarr in category Jina’s Book Chat, Writing tagged as AI, France, German, imagination, movie star, paper dolls, Translation, writing
I have the best memories when I was a kid playing with my paper dolls.
From Sleeping Beauty to In Old New York (Colonial Paper Dolls), I cherished these fragile cardboard dolls with paper dresses with tabs that never stayed on (bobby pins worked!) and kept them in my box of treasures.
Yes, I still have them.
I invented names and personalities for each paper doll, designed clothes for them, and stuck them between the pages of my math book so I could play with them when I was supposed to be doing homework.
As a child, I didn’t have AI answering questions for me, or a cellphone screen telling me what to think, wear, or ‘influence’ me. I made up the stories and created worlds with my paper dolls down to the smallest detail.
And that is what forged my writing.
Imagination.
We writers must continue to craft stories to engage readers to encourage them to use their imagination, even if the words flicker across a computer screen and not the printed pages of a book. To bring our characters into their world so they can identify with them, to feel for them when they’re sad, happy, fall in love.
It’s called being a human. AI has its place, I don’t dispute that, but it’s not the whole enchilada. How can it be?
I doubt AI ever played with a paper doll.
Have you?
My best wishes to you!
Jina
——————————
We have a new German translation for THE RESISTANCE GIRL.
Paris, 1943. Sylvie Martone is the star of French cinema, and adored by fans. But as Nazi officers swarm the streets of Paris, she is spotted arm in arm with an SS Officer and her fellow Parisians begin to turn against her.
However Sylvie has a secret – one she must protect with her life…
Paris, 2020. Juliana Chastain doesn’t know anything about her family history. While her mother was alive she remained very secretive about her past.
So when Juliana discovers a photograph of a glamorous French actress from World War Two amongst her mother’s possessions, she is in shock to find herself looking at her grandmother – especially as she is arm in arm with a Nazi Officer…
Desperate for answers, Juliana is determined to trace the journey of her grandmother. Surely there is more to the photograph than meets the eye?
But as she delves into Sylvie’s past, nothing can prepare Juliane for the tales of secrets, betrayal and sacrifice which she will uncover.
Here she is from DP Digital Publishing: Die Tochter der Résistance
Ein historischer Roman über das Schicksal einer jungen Frau
The Daughter of the Resistance | A historical novel about the fate of a young woman
Wenn Sie in Deutschland sind, hier ist der Link:
https://www.digital-publishers.com/de/romane/die-tochter-der-resistance-historisch-ebook
I’m also excited to announce The Resistance Girl is also being translated into French and Dutch…
Here’s a fun video I made about Sylvie Martone, the heroine of The Resistance Girl:
See you soon!!
Jina
0 0 Read moreSelf-Review
August 5, 2025 by Tracy Reed in category Pink Pad by Tracy Reed, Writing tagged as corrections, editing, errors, review
Recently, I was given the opportunity, to assist a couple of writers with proofreading. For the record, when I complete a project before sending it to my editor, I send my book to a proofreader. I ask my proofreader to check story flow, grammar, punctuation, and spelling. The projects I worked on, involved those basic items.
Once I completed the first proofreading project, I needed a palette cleanser and read one of my books. Let me clarify, this project wasn’t the only reason I re-read my books. I wanted to amp up my special edition omnibus. So, I dove in ready to be entertained, only to discover the book was crawling with errors. I was shocked. The very things I tell people to look out for in their books, is what I was guilty of in this book. I don’t know how I or my editor missed the glitches. I’m not sure if errors happened during the formatting process, or when.
What’s the lesson? Don’t assume the file is clean just because you used it make a different version of the book. I assumed, because all I was doing was cutting and pasting, the files were clean…error proof. The joke was on me, they weren’t. I hear you asking, how many errors…is it even worth your time to update the book? I maintain, readers will forgive approximately five errors (I know there’s no set amount of acceptable errors). Anything over that and your book and writing gets a bad reputation. In this case, there were enough noticeable errors to make me look like a novice writer.
So, while kicking myself for the over abundance of errors, I noticed how different my writing had become. In case, I hadn’t mentioned, the books I’m talking about are the first book I published and the other two in the series. When I started writing, I was writing a different genre…steamy Christian fiction. Now, my preference is Contemporary Romance with faith elements and heat. This series is a prime example of how my writing has changed. Although the books center around one couple, the tone in all three are different.
The other thing about these books is, they’re told in third person. Again, this is because I was trying to fit into a certain romance genre. I personally like multi-voice. That’s not to say I won’t write in third person. I will when I feel that’s what the story calls for. I have a duet, which works well in third person, but the books in the omnibus really would read better in multi-voice. I’m seriously considering re-telling these stories in multi-voice.
There’s just one major problem. If I rewrite them, what do I do with the original books? My solution is to repackage them with new covers, titles and update the original stories. And possibly make the repackaged books exclusives to my bookstore.
Have you thought about or repackaged a series? If so, what was the reader response? How often to you re-read your books?
Books by Tracy Reed
Picture This
July 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as crime fiction, short fiction, writing
When Kristi saw the blue ribbon, she smothered her surprise. Yes, she should have been ecstatic—first place for acrylics in the local arts festival. But the backstory for the painting, “Raging Storm,” was still too raw, too fresh.
“Love that piece,” gushed the festival director, who appeared at her side. “And it sold. Congratulations.”
“Ah … thanks,” Kristi sputtered.
“Those oranges and reds and dramatic splashes of purple,” the director continued. “The person who bought it remarked on the powerful emotions it seems to embody.”
Like searing anger? Soul-sucking depression?
But Kristi didn’t share that. “Yeah, well, I was just letting my feelings flow.”
Looking back, she should have seen the mismatch from the start: she, with her creative spirit—which Trey later dismissed as “flaky”—and he, with his dedication to rules and order. Hah. Their marriage vows had mentioned the rule about being true to each other. Then the news camera doing a feature on beach towns caught him unawares, walking arm-in-arm with a blonde, a senior VP at his company. Neither was dressed for the office. In fact, they were at the Jersey Shore.
Becca had warned her when Trey proposed and she’d accepted.
“You’re so different.” This from her bestie who was still searching for Mr. Right. “I’m trying to be honest but kind,” Becca said. “You won’t be happy with him. As I’ve told you, I always find corpses—those hidden flaws that lead to ruin. That’s what I’m feeling for you.”
But Kristi was positive about Trey. He was the one; differences made a relationship stronger, didn’t they? Being too much alike was boring. And everyone has flaws.
On their honeymoon, also at the Jersey Shore despite the wind-whipped October weather, she’d whispered in a moment of bliss, “Tell me everything.”
He, while amorously tracing the line of her arm, responded coolly. “I don’t have to. We all have secrets.” He continued his line drawing along her body, unaware she had recoiled. “I don’t expect you to tell me all of yours.”
Those first few years were glorious and satisfying, or she pretended they were. She painted and sold a few pieces; he spent long days at the office and climbed the corporate ladder. The whimsy he said was charming about her at the outset soured into a dirge of complaints. She could do nothing right.
When Kristi saw the news clip Becca forwarded, finally understanding what his latest secret was, she grasped that there had been others. She’d been played for a fool.
It’s midnight and I’m blue, she texted her friend. What now?
The reply came immediately. Leave the bastard.
She did, in her own way, by giving into her anger. He had it coming. That’s how she justified it. What had Becca said about finding corpses? Trey’s would never be found.
Then she got out her acrylics and a blank rectangle of canvas. It was too soon to compose an image of her life ahead. First, she needed to exorcise her sorrow and wrath.
“We hope you’ll enter a piece in our next festival.” The director was still nattering on about her painting and the other artwork on the walls that surrounded them. “You’ve got a good eye for color.”
More of Dianna’s Stories
Lost… no, Found in Translation and where the heck have I been? by Jina Bacarr
July 11, 2025 by Jina Bacarr in category Jina’s Book Chat, Writing tagged as France, German, movie star, Translation
Sister Mary Celestine would be so upset with me… like the time she made me kneel on my desk and measured with her ruler to see if my green uniform touched the polished blonde wood.
It didn’t.
I was in total teen rebellion, making my uniform shorter so I looked ‘cool’.
I wish I could say I was in teen rebellion to explain my absence, but I just haven’t been my best for a while. I’m homebound, rarely go out or post on social media, and my poor motorcar barely has any miles on it; in other words, I’m trying to heal from injuries sustained several months ago. And continue to write. I’d rather ship myself off to a desert island with teeth-gnashing raptors than let my editor down. Isobel has been so understanding, working with me and giving me extra time to finish my next book. And I did it.
I’m working on edits this week when I realized it’s time to post. Then I realized I missed last month… and before that. I apologize. I’ve been living with massive headaches and hand and shoulder injuries… well, I’m not a downer type, so let’s talk about some majorly good stuff… like finishing my book due out later this year.
And a new German translation for THE RESISTANCE GIRL.
Paris, 1943. Sylvie Martone is the star of French cinema, and adored by fans. But as Nazi officers swarm the streets of Paris, she is spotted arm in arm with an SS Officer and her fellow Parisians begin to turn against her.
However Sylvie has a secret – one she must protect with her life…
Paris, 2020. Juliana Chastain doesn’t know anything about her family history. While her mother was alive she remained very secretive about her past.
So when Juliana discovers a photograph of a glamorous French actress from World War Two amongst her mother’s possessions, she is in shock to find herself looking at her grandmother – especially as she is arm in arm with a Nazi Officer…
Desperate for answers, Juliana is determined to trace the journey of her grandmother. Surely there is more to the photograph than meets the eye?
But as she delves into Sylvie’s past, nothing can prepare Juliane for the tales of secrets, betrayal and sacrifice which she will uncover.
Here she is from DP Digital Publishing: Die Tochter der Résistance
Ein historischer Roman über das Schicksal einer jungen Frau
The Daughter of the Resistance | A historical novel about the fate of a young woman
Wenn Sie in Deutschland sind, hier ist der Link:
https://www.digital-publishers.com/de/romane/die-tochter-der-resistance-historisch-ebook
I’m also excited to announce The Resistance Girl is being translated into French and Dutch…
Here’s a fun video I made about Sylvie Martone, the heroine of The Resistance Girl:
And now back to my edits…
See you soon!!
Jina
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