Try an Experiment by Kitty Bucholtz
August 9, 2026 by Kitty Bucholtz in category It's Worth It by Kitty Bucholtz, Writing tagged as It's Worth It, Kitty Bucholtz, life choices, menopause, Perimenopause, writing
I was listening to a podcast recently about confidence and the guest said she tries to look at everything in life as an experiment. Can she do it? Let’s give it a try. Did she fail? She found that it didn’t work that way. Did she succeed? She found that this worked. Listening to her, you could tell this was clearly a personality thing for her.
But it reminded me of choices that I’d forgotten. Between the stresses of nearly six decades on Earth and the personal hell perimenopause/menopause have made of my life the last several years, I’ve found myself with a mostly negative and scared attitude about life. This from someone who was called Pollyanna since I was a kid! Huge change. And it seemed like there was nothing at all I could do to stop this downward spiral. (Thanks, hormones.)
I’ve been waiting for the extra hormones I’m taking to even out my thinking and feelings and it seems to finally be working. (Aside from the worldwide estrogen shortage going on!)So when I heard this super cheerful woman talking about how everything is an experiment, I thought, I could try that. At least try it, that would be my first experiment.
It’s only been a week or two, but I think it’s helping me to feel calmer and less stressed overall. And it reminds me of another experiment I started doing a month or two ago that is helping me stay calmer even more — keeping my feelings in the now. Partially because of the hormone changes (and I can’t tell if it’s 50% or 90% or 100%), I’ve been suffering from a lot of anxiety and a fair amount of depression the last few years. But I’ve been remembering to try to bring my thoughts and feelings back to Now and ask myself how I feel right in this moment.
Not thinking about what’s “probably” going to happen in ten minutes or tomorrow or the scary thing I don’t know how to deal with that’s on my calendar for next Tuesday. Just right this second. And if right this second I’m happy because I’m eating a delicious meal my husband made or I woke up to realize I’d slept well or I have time to read five minutes of my favorite new book…then I savor that one moment of being happy and try to keep my thoughts from running into the future fears.
I mention these things because they have helped me as a person trying to survive and thrive in the world, but also as a creative writer who needs to figure out how to continue to be creative when my brain is struggling through the menopause process. For me, it’s working. And I hope the ideas help you too. Anything we can do to help each other live a more joyful, peaceful life — it’s worth it!
1 0 Read moreWhat Would You Say to Writers in Peri/Menopause? by Kitty Bucholtz
July 9, 2026 by Kitty Bucholtz in category It's Worth It by Kitty Bucholtz tagged as It's Worth It, Kitty Bucholtz, menopause, Perimenopause, writingHalf of the world will go through menopause at some point, and all of the world will see or feel the effects of it. I’m so grateful that I live during a time when we are finally taking menopause out of hiding and finding out how to help ourselves and each other through this phase. The only thing that would be better is if I lived during a time when I knew before it happened what the heck was going on!
To that end, I’m determined to help writers who are just figuring this out. I started writing a book to help writers going through perimenopause and menopause, but over time my doctors helped me even out and I was finally feeling myself a few weeks ago. After three years, but better late than never. I began to question whether I could finish the book when I felt so good…and then I found myself stuck in a worldwide estrogen shortage!
<insert crying and swearing and anxiety and depression and brain fog again>
The silver lining in finding my body and mind going backwards is that now I know I really do need to finish this book. So here’s my question for you: what do you think should be included?
Topics so far include:
* Know what perimenopause and menopause are so you can be prepared
* Learn all you can about how your body and mind are responding
* Understand how decreasing hormones could impact your mood and creativity
* Find ways to keep your creativity going during this time
* Learn how and when to give yourself grace when you need it
What else do you think should be included? I was thinking about men understanding the women in their lives (bosses, coworkers, family, friends), how husbands and wives can find a peaceful way to get through it together, resources from doctors, etc. Think about your experience, that of your friends, what people have wished they’d known. Please leave some comments! Forward this to your friends. I’d like to make this book as helpful as possible.
1 0 Read moreA Trip of One’s Own
June 30, 2026 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as mystery, Road Trip, short fiction, vacations, writing
The cereal poured from the spout so quickly it overflowed Marie’s bowl and fell to the tile floor in the breakfast bar. She and Todd were on the second day of their summer vacation, and bar was a stretch. Other early risers crowded past her, their shoes crunching on the small O’s she’d spilled. She barely had room to turn around to find the milk. Meanwhile, Todd ignored her for his phone, doom scrolling through the morning news.
She plopped her bowl down on the high-top table, this time causing the milk to splash.
“Are you eating this morning?” Marie sipped her large coffee, glad for the caffeine, eager for the jump start it promised.
Her husband waved a hand, not looking up “Later. I hardly slept last night. The traffic noise, your snoring.” He finally glanced at her, with a scowl. “And you have to drag me out of bed at this ridiculous hour.”
The cereal had already gone limp in Marie’s bowl; she suspected it was an off-brand.
“We agreed that we would visit the Frederic Church house today.” She was not going to let Todd ruin the trip, ruin this precious time away from their cramped twin in Frenchtown and the Ginmans next door, whose three dogs never stopped barking. The rustic hotel along U.S. Route 9 had looked inviting in the photos posted online. Reality proved different. Small was an understatement.
“I’ll just wait in the car when we get there,” Todd growled. “You like that cultural stuff. You know I don’t.”
Fifteen years with this grouch. Had he always been this way? Her mother’s words, whispered in her ear as she adjusted the flounce on Marie’s wedding dress: Enjoy this while you can.
Once upon a time, she did. But now . . .
A hotel staffer appeared at Todd’s elbow and speaking in low tones requested that he report to the front desk. There was an issue.
“What’s wrong?” Marie asked. Todd’s clothes were strewn around their room, but that was nothing new. She would tidy up, as she always did, before they departed. Checkout wasn’t until Sunday.
The staffer ignored her. Todd grimaced, muttering under his breath, but followed the hotel rep away from the breakfast nook. Every table (there were only five) was filled, and the line for the coffee urns wound its way out to the lobby.
After twenty minutes and no return of Todd, Marie tossed her trash in the receptacle and went in search of him. She wanted to spend the day at the Church house and studio. She loved the artist’s glorious landscapes, even if all she could afford was a print of his Marine Sunset she had framed at Michaels with a discount coupon.
Todd was not at the front desk, which was unmanned. Aside from those in the coffee line, the lobby was empty.
“Hello?” She waited a moment, hit the brass bell on the counter, but no one appeared to help her. She fumbled for her cell phone and tapped on Todd’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. Had he returned to their room and fallen asleep?
Marie strode back to the room, steeling herself against his ongoing complaints. Like the lobby, though, the room was empty of Todd. Empty of his clothes too.
“Where the hell is he?” She was ready to head out without him. He could just stew for the day, hang out at the hotel, walk to the strip of small retail businesses across the road. She would savor an outing without his dark mood coloring every moment.
Back in the lobby, she stopped again at the desk. The staffer was the same one who had fetched Todd earlier.
“My husband, Todd Slifer,” Marie said. “He never returned to breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” The staffer’s eyebrows rose. “Perhaps he’s gone to your room?”
Marie sighed, the morning slipping away. “You summoned him to the desk. He’s not in the room or in the lobby. What was the issue?”
The staffer turned to his screen. “There must be some misunderstanding, Ms. …”
“Slifer.” Marie allowed her foot to tap out her impatience on the lobby tiles. This was vintage Todd, playing passive-aggressive when he didn’t want to do something she wanted. “Room 265.”
He tapped a few keys. When he looked up, she took a step back.
“Ma’am,” he said, with a slight shake of his head. “The room is booked for a single occupant, you. The room rate is good for two people, if your husband has come along. Shall I add his name?”
The lobby walls seemed to shift, and she grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from falling. “Are you saying that you did not drop by our breakfast table earlier and ask my husband to accompany you?”
“No,” he said. “I haven’t left the desk since I came on at seven.”
“Thanks.” Had he winked at her? Marie straightened up and pulled her purse higher on her shoulder. “You’re right. A misunderstanding.”
She wouldn’t look too hard for Todd, now or later. The tour of the Frederic Church house awaited her.
More of Dianna’s Stories
2+ 2 = ? Do you really need to know math if you want to be a writer? and I salute ‘Call the Midwife’ by Jina Bacarr
June 11, 2026 by Jina Bacarr in category Jina’s Book Chat, Writing tagged as call the midwife, Catholic nuns, circus, math, writingI remember tossing my slide rule into my flower-papered trunk when I graduated… it was a good friend back in the day. Got me through mathematics in college and somehow it survived along with my paisley bell bottoms and Laguna Beach Indian bracelets. It wasn’t a magic wand, but it felt like one. You still had to understand math to make it work.
Fast forward to a newsstory I saw recently about how students entering university can’t do middle grade school math.
Mention a slide rule and they double blink.
Like you’re stuck in another century. Oops… I was.
But the message is clear. We need to get our students to fall in love with math again. It starts with reading. Taking the time to become so absorbed in a book or math project you can’t put it down. I talk books whenever I can, my faves from childhood, Gothic romances I adored, thrillers and mysteries that made me think.
I wasn’t a math major, but I enjoyed the dance of watching numbers build the foundation for something amazing, it’s a story of a different color from writing a novel. But learning math taught me discipline, perserverence, trying different calculations, etc. The same traits you need to write.
I learned basic coding when I worked for a video game company. Again, basic math needed back then.
Logic and reasoning. Making your brain THINK.
So thank you to Sister Jovita at St Peter’s who created magic on her blackboard when I was in the sixth grade and instilled in me a love for math. Here she is from an old family film…
(The brief shot of a pretty girl at the end is my BFF Claire at St Peter’s.)
I’m grateful to my educators as I was growing up, mostly the good sisters from different orders (I attended too many schools to list here). Which is why I became such a big fan of the nuns at Nonnatus House. As I watched the finale on ‘Call the Midwife‘, I cried. The faith, confidence, never-giving-up attitude of the nuns has been an inspiration to me (I’ve never missed an episode since it started). It’s been a loving, brilliant trip ‘back to my Catholic school days’. I so loved the sisters at all the schools and convent I attended. They laid the groundwork for my writing career. I feel so fortunate to have studied under their tutelage.
I salute you… everyone involved with ‘Call the Midwife‘, and I can’t wait for the film and prequel in the works.
I may even dig out my slide rule… but I’ll skip the bell bottoms.
================
Waiting for notes on Book 2 of Lia’s story — my Paris WW2 circus saga!!
Here is Book 1:
My latest Paris WW2 novel:
Check out: ‘The Stolen Children of War’ — Book 1 in Lia’s Story. I’m now writing Book 2 ‘Flight of the Stolen Children’.
A story told in Book 1 of this 2 book series about children hidden in plain sight in Occupied Paris 1943. In the circus.
Photo Finish
May 30, 2026 by Dianna Sinovic in category Quill and Moss by Dianna Sinovic, Writing tagged as short fiction, spec fiction, writing
Three long weeks. Marla checked her calendar for the fifth time that morning and stared at the next cubicle, vacant, as it had been for twenty-one days. Where was Chet? Her work queue glared at her, each extra file on her screen a reminder that her coworker was shirking his duties.
He wasn’t on vacation. (He’d have bragged.) He’d said nothing about taking a leave. (He had bills to pay.) Was he ill? At death’s door? At near age forty (her best guess), Chet wasn’t old enough to have anything terminal. Although Marla’s knees reminded her daily that she was a solid fifty-two.
In the breakroom, word was Chet had won the lottery and quit the company, leaving the photos of his dog and his latest girlfriend pinned to the divider panel, the small plastic figure of Yoda next to his keyboard, and his spare jacket draped over this chair. But Marla didn’t believe it.
Her supervisor was mum about Chet, deflecting questions with a cryptic “I can’t say.”
And so Marla doubled down on her work queue, cursing Chet with each completed file.
“Freeloader.”
“Lazy ass.”
“Coward.”
Guilt crept over her. He might be odd, but her coworker wasn’t any of those other things, really. She was just angry at having to shoulder the full load of their work. With no explanation from him.
Her cell phone pinged.
I need that photo of Brandy.
Who was this?
Then it registered. He had her number.
Chet? she texted back. Where are you? What’s going on?
Bring Brandy’s photo and meet me outside the Starbucks on Main.
It was near break time; she could slip out for a quick errand.
OK, she responded. 10 minutes?
A thumbs-up appeared on her text. She would grill the man when they met. Find out why he went AWOL. Was he now a fugitive?
Not knowing whether Brandy was the dog or the girlfriend, Marla took both photos, tucked them into her purse and left the office at once. It was three blocks to Starbucks, and she strode purposefully, eager to hear Chet’s story.
He wore a ballcap with the brim pulled down, as though in disguise. That was the first detail she noticed. The second was the shimmer that surrounded him, almost like a hologram. What the …?
As she approached, he held up his hands. “Don’t come too near.” His face held both worry and excitement.
“I’ll stand right here, but you’ve got to tell me what’s happening.” She pulled out the photos from her purse and held them out. “I didn’t know which one you wanted.”
Chet’s form shimmered more intensely as he took them from her. “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t say a lot, because I don’t have much time, but I’m leaving.”
“Leaving Doylestown? Bucks County?” Marla would miss him, even if he was weird.
Chet’s laugh was more of a cough. “Leaving Earth. I insisted that they bring Brandy along, too.” He waved the photos. “They needed an image to locate her.”
Leaving … Earth? “Are you okay, Chet? Can I call someone for you?”
“No need,” he said. “I’ve got to go now.”
“And your dog?” Marla hoped he’d arranged for someone to adopt it. If he was having a mental health crisis, he wouldn’t be able to care for the critter until he was well.
He waved the photos at her again, this time singling out the canine. “Brandy’s coming. They promised me.”
The shimmering became blinding, and Chet was gone, leaving Marla alone on the sidewalk, the roar of traffic on the busy street muffling her gasp. She glanced around her, but no one else seemed to have noticed the flash of light that consumed her coworker.
Well, she was at a Starbucks. Might as well grab a latte before heading back to the office—and that endless queue of files.
More of Dianna’s Stories
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