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 morePicture 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
The Whole Path System for Writers by Kitty Bucholtz
July 9, 2025 by Kitty Bucholtz in category It's Worth It by Kitty Bucholtz, Writing tagged as It's Worth It, Kitty Bucholtz, whole path system for writers, writingA few years ago, I was trying to figure out how to get more done and feeling a bit overwhelmed. If you listen to all the podcasts and read all the books and go to all the conferences, you may throw up your hands and quit! But just for a moment. Because there really are a lot of things we need to do.
Even if you don’t publish your writing, you probably write because you need to. But that’s just one of the many things you have to do. You also need to take care of your physical and mental health. You need to pay your bills. There are people in your life who need your attention — and hopefully you want to spend time with them too! The list goes on… But I had an idea a few years ago and I made a list of everything, then broke it into categories.
Those categories became my WHOLE PATH System for Writers! Here they are:
- Writing
- Heart and Soul
- Organization
- Laughter
- Economics
- People
- Accountability
- Time
- Health
I use this system to bring balance to my life, especially right now when I’m suffering from hormone issues in menopause. I’ve shared it with clients and put it on my website. And I’m finally getting my ideas down on paper so I can help more writers create a sustainable life that keeps them happy and healthy. I’ll be writing more about the Whole Path System on my website’s blog, and I’d love to hear what resonates with you. Please leave a comment there or here and share what works for you, or what you’re still struggling with.
I’m also thinking the name of my nonfiction book series may end up being “The Whole Path System for Writers.” What do you think? Everything I am getting ready to publish for writers fits into those categories, so it makes sense to me. Does it makes sense to you or does it feel too long? Let me know in the comments!
I hope this list gives you food for thought. In future posts, I’ll dive deeper into each subject.
0 1 Read moreWashed Up
June 30, 2025 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as Jersey Shore, mystery, writing
“Did I tell you about the time Aunt Jen and I found a wooden box on the beach?” Molly pulled her jacket tighter against the chill that had descended along with the sunset. Her three kids sat around the fire with her, listening to the crackle of the flames as the night around them darkened.
“A treasure chest?” Aaron, the romantic in her crew, clapped his hands in anticipation. She smiled. Of course his imagination would leapt to a tale of pirates and doubloons. This was his birthday weekend, the reason they were camping.
“I’m afraid not,” Molly said. “It was a small box, room for only two or three coins. That’s not much booty.” She held up her hands to mime the size—more of a ring box than anything.
Aaron’s face registered disappointment, but Lara perked up. “Jewelry!” She was a year older than Aaron. “Earrings and gold strands, I’ll bet.”
Not willing to be outdone by his sister, Aaron immediately countered. “It was a tiny map that led to buried treasure.”
“No.” Treena, at thirteen, two years older than Lara, filled the captain’s role for Molly’s gang of three. She offered her pronouncements calmly but forcefully. One day she’d be a CEO, Molly predicted. “Let Mom finish her story. I doubt it was any of those things.”
“Do you want to venture a guess?” Molly put another piece of wood on the fire. They were camped on a friend’s property, on their way to the Jersey Shore, their destination for tomorrow. “What I remember best was that the top of the box had an octopus carved into it. Its tentacles hugged the sides.”
“Where is it now? Or did you lose it?” Treena’s gaze challenged Molly, a more and more frequent occurrence these days. And just like the teen to hit on the stickiest part of the story.
What possessed me to bring up the box?
“Your dad took it when he left.” Molly stirred the fire again to buy some time. “So, no, I don’t have it. He may have tossed it.” Like so much else Kurt had tossed in their lives. It took years of not seeing that—until the day it was so obvious she cringed.
“You still haven’t said what was in the box.” Lara was hopping from one foot to the other.
“And why would Dad want to take it when it was yours?”
Precisely because it was hers. She’d searched for it in the days after he walked out, even as she grasped that the empty spot in her drawer was there because he couldn’t resist one last blow. Still, she refused to talk trash about her ex; he had visitation rights.
“In the box …” Molly let the words linger. “No gold coins, no jewelry, no treasure map. Aunt Jen was probably thirteen, like you, Treena. That would have made me twelve.” She’d kept the box despite its warped wood and a chipped corner, despite Jen’s worry it was infested with sand fleas (it wasn’t). She’d kept the box as a memento of her childhood, of a time when Jen was strong and healthy.
“When we pried it open, we thought we’d find a note written by someone who was lost at sea.” It hadn’t occurred to them that any paper note would have turned to pulp.
“But it was empty,” Treena said. Her tone shaded in her opinion: stupid story.
“It was not empty.” Nestled inside was a pair of dog tags, pitted and corroded by years soaking in saltwater. She and Jen could make out the soldier’s first name, but the last name and military ID were undecipherable. Blood type O+, religion Lutheran. They guessed Navy, but it could have been Army—only the “y” at the end of the word was clear. They also guessed at the war, the same one their great-grandfather had fought in.
For years, Molly studied the dog tags and wondered. Was he already dead or about to drown when the tags were stashed in the box? Who would have removed them and why? His imagined face surfaced in her teenage dreams; a young face, of course, a face far different from the man she ended up marrying.
When their third child was born—finally, Kurt said, a son—she named him Aaron, to honor that long-dead sailor. Kurt didn’t understand her fascination, and maybe she didn’t either. She just knew she was drawn to the stranger.
“Your namesake,” Molly finally said to her son. “That’s what was in the box. That’s why I told the story tonight. It’s a true birthday tale.”
More of Dianna’s stories
And the Winners Are . . .
June 13, 2025 by marianne h donley in category From a Cabin in the Woods by Members of Bethlehem Writers Group tagged as 2025 BWG Short Story Contest, Illusive Worlds, Winners, writing
2025 BWR Short Story Award winners!
BWG is happy to announce the winners, chosen by their terrific guest judge, Adrian Tchaikovsky. They wish to express their thanks to all who entered and permitted them to read their excellent and interesting work.
1st Place: “Smiling Fish” by Avery Other of Lincoln, NE
2nd Place: “Missing Ingredients” by Natalie Bucsko of Cumming, GA
3rd Place: “A Fine Line in the Sand” by Mizuki Yamagen of Louisville, CO
Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order by author’s last name):
“Delivering a New Perspective” by Mounir Derdak of Mississauga ON
“The Singer from Akrotiri” by Larry Ivkovich of Coraopolis, PA
“Peaches” by Avery Other of Lincoln, NE
“The Fish Man of Mahoney Creek” by Jess Simms of Pittsburgh, PA
Don’t forget, BWG will run another contest, starting on January 1, for the 2026 Short Story Award.
Featured Books
THE CASE OF THE QUESTIONABLE QUADRUPLET
A patient shares a puzzling secret with Dr. Darcy—and then someone kills her.
More info →
