Slate and Style

The Magazine of the National Federation of the Blind Writers’ Division
Spring, 2018

Editor: Shelley J. Alongi
Phone: (714)525-9632
Email: S-and-S@nfbnet.org
Alternate email: Queenofbells@outlook.com 

Table of Contents

Editor's Musings, by Shelly J. Alongi					Page 2

Notes from the President, by Myrna Duprè Badgerow			Page 2

NFB Writers’ Division 2018 Contest Guidelines,			Page 3
by Shelley J. Alongi an Company

What Are People Like Me Supposed to Do, by Barbara Irvin		Page 5

Writing Prompts, by Shelley J. Alongi					Page 6

Psst: You're Getting it Wrong,						Page 6
by Bill Glose, Writer magazine

Darwin’s Beast, by Shawn Jacobson					Page 9

Timeless Boundaries: An Introduction to the Biography Poem,		Page 10
by Lynda Mckinney Lambert

Princess, by Patricia Hubschman						Page 13

Submission Guidelines For Slate and Style				Page 19

Join the NFB Writers’ Division						Page 21

Note: besides going to a particular page for a story/article/poem, the beginning can be accessed by searching for ***. 

***

Editor’s Musings
by Shelley J Alongi

Since last we met in print, the passage of time has brought several changes. Since the release of the winter issue I have moved twice and am now settled with one cat in our own house. It is an old, solidly built affair with places I probably have not yet discovered. My spring joys and chores are before me with the care of a spacious yard giving me lots of excuses to go outside and enjoy our north Texas spring and prepare for the onslaught of summer. 

I am sad to report the loss of the cat who served as my chief editor. We laid Pearl to rest on December 27, 2017. Her company and advice are missed. Brandy, Pearl’s lifelong cat company does not choose to advise me on just how to put the magazine together. She has other duties like opening cupboards and chasing shadows at night, demanding to be brushed and eating to keep her busy, I’m sure. 

In the midst of all this, life has presented us with the next issue, preparations for the 2018 Writers’ Division contest, and the release of my third online publication called Angel Hug, a fictional account of Christ’s experience in Gethsemane. 

Others in the division have been busy, too. In this issue, we get advice on how to write a biographical poem, an idea for a new section in our magazine, a delightfully romantic story, thoughts on nature, and some well-thought-out advice on how to make sure your well-crafted work not only reads easily but presents actions and characters as they exist in real life situations. So now I invite you to take off your shoes, sit down with your favorite beverage or snack or in a comfortable place and enjoy the offerings set before you.  

***

Notes From the President
by Myrna Duprè Badgerow

Welcome fellow Writers' Division members to the 2018 Spring edition of Slate and Style.  My thanks to Shelley Alongi for her hard work in putting each edition of Slate and Style together. 

I'm sure most of you are aware, our annual writing contest is now open. We hope to see your submissions for this year's contest. There have been some changes to the guidelines so please read them carefully before submitting your entry.

We have had some fun and interesting gatherings in the last few months. Please join if you are able on March 25th for our next gathering. Last but not least, our 2018 NFB convention will be upon us in July. To all planning to attend I wish you safe travels.

***

NFB Writers’ Division 2018 Contest Guidelines
by Shelley J Alongi and Company

(Thanks to Chelsea Cook for revising these guidelines. Please read carefully and enjoy.)

The annual youth and adult writing contests sponsored by the NFB Writers’ Division will open February  1st and close April 30th for all aspiring writers whether blind, sighted or visually impaired. 

Adult contest categories are: short Fiction and poetry.

Youth contest categories are: Short fiction and poetry. The youth contest is divided into three groups, determined by grade level – elementary, middle, and high school. 

As always, in both adult and youth contests, there may be up to three prize winners (1st, 2nd, 3rd), and one or more receiving honorable mention. Additionally, a prize winning entry may be published within the Writers’ Division’s magazine, Slate & Style. 

All contest winners will be announced during the first week of July, at the Writers' Division business meeting, during the NFB national convention to be held in Orlando, Florida.

PRIZES
*Youth contest winners will receive cash and prizes up to $30 for 1st place, $20 for 2nd place, and $10 for 3rd place. 
*Adult contest winners will receive cash and prizes up to $75 for 1st place, $50 for 2nd place, and $25 for 3rd place. 

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

YOUTH CONTESTS
*This is a contest for students who use Braille. 
*Note: if you are 18 years old, or older, you must enter the adult contest.
*Entries must be submitted in hand embossed Braille, either with a slate and stylus or Perkins Braille writer, and there are no exceptions.
*Submissions must be Brailled by the entrant. 
*All submissions, no matter your grade level, must be in contracted Braille. Let us know if you “know” or are “learning” contracted Braille. Additionally, let us know if you have chosen to use UEB, or not.
*Each entrant must provide an identical electronic copy of the cover letter and contest entry as a Microsoft Word file [doc] or as a Rich Text Format [rtf] file).
*Attach the electronic copies to an email and send them to: Myrna Badgerow, at KajunCutie926@aol.com
*Send your hardcopy Braille and cover letter to:
Chelsea Cook
1608 cottonwood Drive apt 10
Louisville, CO 80027

COVER LETTER
Entries must be accompanied by a cover letter containing the follwing information for each entrant:
*Your name, mailing address, phone number, and e-mail address. 
*List the titles of all submissions, including the category in which they are being entered.
*List your school and grade level.

ENTRY REQUIREMENTS
*We will consider only unpublished original entries.
*Youth short fiction stories submissions cannot be more than 1,000 words, and poetry of no more than 50 lines. 
*Authors of either poetry or fiction are encouraged to submit multiple pieces.

Youth ENTRY FEES – None

Are you the best Brailler in the contest? Be sure to double check your work for spelling and grammatical errors. Remember to use Braille paper so the Braille is easy to read. Good luck!

ADULT CONTEST
*Note: this contest is for everyone 18 years old, or older. One need not be blind to enter.
*We will consider only unpublished original entries. 
*Fiction short stories can be of any main stream genre, and cannot exceed 3,000 words. 
*Poetry: We will accept poetry of any length 
*Authors of either poetry and/or prose are encouraged to submit multiple pieces.
*Adults are required to submit all poetry and  fiction as attachments to an E-mail message. 
*The attachments must be in either Microsoft Word (doc) or Rich Text Format (rtf). 
*Fiction should be written in a normal prose style, with paragraphs being left justified, lines being single spaced, and having a 14 point font of Aerial, regular. 
* Be sure to double check your work for spelling and grammatical errors
*No hard copy submissions will be accepted.

COVER LETTER 
Along with your entry or entries, include a cover letter providing the following information: 
*Your name, mailing address, phone number, and e-mail address. 
*List the titles of all submissions, including the category in which they are being entered.
*State your method of payment for the entry fee (check or PayPal). 
*Finally, the cover letter could be your e-mail message, or a separate document attached along with your submissions.

CONTEST ENTRY FEES PAYMENT AND METHODS
Adult Fees: 
*The fee for each short story is $15.00 for members and $20.00 for non-members.
*The base fee for poetry will cover up to three poems, if the combined line-count of all three pieces does not exceed 108 lines - additional poems require a second fee, following the same fee payment scheme. Base fees are $15.00 for members and $20.00 for non-members.

PAYMENT
*You may use PayPal from the Writers’ Division website, http://writers.nfb.org
*Alternatively, you may mail a check made out to NFB Writers’ Division, with a note in the memo line relating to the contest. Send to:
Shawn Jacobson
19541 	Olney Mill Rd.
Olney, 	MD 20832.
*E-mail submissions should be sent to Myrna Badgerow at: KajunCutie926@aol.com

We look forward to seeing your words.

***

What Are People Like Me Supposed To Do
by Barbara Irvin

(Barbara Irvin recently wrote an article about a totally blind journalist named Empish Thomas. This article, titled An Inspiring Journalist, will soon be featured in an issue of Quill & Scroll. Barbara is also continuing to write her first middle grade novel.) 

When I started working at a nonprofit organization that employs people who are blind almost fourteen years ago, I thought I would be working steadily for as long as I remained there. Soon after I became an employee, I realized this wasn’t true. I’ve been laid off more times than I care to admit, and it has only worsened in recent months. For someone who needs to keep busy and relies on a biweekly paycheck, this is not good. 

The work I do there is not difficult, and I consider myself fortunate to be in the company of such considerate, friendly people. For the most part, everyone is helpful and works together as a team. My job varies, but most of the time I can be found packing address label sheets, CDs, or DVDs. The work is far from strenuous, and I find it rather enjoyable. 

So, when things slow down and the orders trickle in, I become very annoyed and angry. When I am among the few who are unemployed at my job, I hurt moneywise and professionally. It makes me feel inadequate as a person because my ability to contribute to putting products together is taken away. All sorts of questions go through my mind as I try to understand why I am always in this situation. Do people expect those of us who are blind or visually impaired to find other means of employment? If this is true, they should know that someone like myself isn’t going to quit her day job and go to a factory that hires only sighted workers. Not only is this unrealistic, it is unfair. Sure, I earn money on the side occasionally through a freelance writing career, but I know it’s not nearly enough to live on. 

Those who think blind people can survive without a steady income need to wake up and get a reality check. While others are enjoying life, I’m forced to cut corners every time the government decides to get stingy with their funding. Stop hurting us and start helping again, and make it so everyone has an opportunity. The politicians and congressional workers might have a ton of money to do as they wish, but us taxpaying, hardworking citizens do not. 

***

Writing Prompts
by Shelley J. Alongi

Here is an idea from your Slate and Style editor for anew section. Writing prompts. Ocasionally someone on Stylist presents an idea to start a section for writing prompts. Ideas for stories, poetry and essays come from all sources: an overhead conversation, a spring day, a phrase repeated over and over again, a favorite piece of music, the images in a piece of art, or even a million things I cannot conjure up in my own mind. Each of us experiences a world that no one else can and from that world comes delightful kernels we can present to the world at large as our own creative designs. 

As writers, let's be brave. One of the writing prompts submitted to Slate and Style or our Stylist could result in a winning contest entry. 

Email your writing prompts for this proposed section to S-and-S@nfbnet.org and let the creations begin.

***

Psst: You're Getting it Wrong
by Bill Glose

Published: November 20, 2017, The Writer Magazine

David Baldacci shakes his head, deep dimples creasing his boyish cheeks. “I’ve read a lot of serial killer books by my contemporaries,” he says. “In so many of them, there’s no motivation for the bad guys other than they’re just crazy. They just slaughter people for the sake of slaughtering them. They kidnap women and imprison them and kill them later just because they’re nuts. Well, that’s pretty easy to write: ‘I killed these people because I’m nuts.’”

It might be easy to write that way. Usually, though, it’s wrong.

Veracity in fiction is often sacrificed on the altar of expedience. It’s a shame, because time spent fact-checking not only eliminates laughable gaffes but also keeps readers turning pages in the believable world created by the author.

With his background as a lawyer, Baldacci has been able to realistically portray legal scenes in his novels. But most of his characters come from other walks of life. What steps does he take to ensure his stories ring true?

“For both Split Second and Hour Game,” Baldacci explains, “I had a number of interviews with a number of different Secret Service agents. When I sat down with them right here in this room…” He pauses to spread his arms inside his spacious office in Fairfax, Virginia. “…I didn’t have a bunch of standard questions to ask. I just wanted them to give me a slice of their daily life in the Secret Service. What you do from when you get up in the morning until you go to bed? How does it differ being in the field versus being on protection detail? That way, when I sat down to write, I could give that sort of authenticity to my characters,” he says.

“And you can’t do that by just reading about it in a book; you just can’t. A book might have told me that they all wear ear fobs when they’re standing post, but not about them getting static and having a hard time hearing. They wear body armor, and the wires itch them underneath the body armor and there’s nothing they can do about it. They’re sweating profusely under the body armor, and the wires short out sometimes because there’s so much moisture on their bodies. Nobody writes those things down in a book. You learn that by going out and talking to these guys, picking their brains in great detail and learning what they do.”

The good news for mystery writers is that vetting their work is easy to achieve. “Cop talk” books, such as Police Procedure & Investigations by Lee Lofland, provide an excellent starting point. But nothing beats fact-checking your scenes with authorities. This step not only ensures authenticity but also often provides you with wonderful, specific details you might otherwise never have known. Most experts are eager to share behind-the-scenes details of what they do. Need proof? I contacted a handful from various fields and asked which mystery-story clichés irked them the most. Here’s what they had to say:

The most common cliches in genre fiction

As soon as an officer arrests somebody, he immediately recites: “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”

“Almost all of society believes when you’re arrested you have to have your Miranda rights read. In reality, no. The only time an officer has to read your Miranda rights is if you’re in custody and they interrogate you, ask questions. Most don’t want to ask questions because that makes them a witness, and they’re going to get subpoenaed for a case on their day off. They just want to make the arrest and move on.”
—Russell Maguire, former assistant attorney general for the state of Virginia.

If any evidence is collected at a scene, you can swab it for DNA and catch the criminal by lunchtime.

“Just because a murder weapon is there doesn’t mean we can necessarily get DNA on it; we might not even get fingerprints. People have this misconception that we can DNA anything. Well, you know what? Everything is not going to be a forensics case. Maybe it’s going to be a case where the detectives have to get out there and knock on some doors. That’s how most police work is solved.” —Susan Landin, crime scene technician with Newport News Police Department.

A detective notices something on a dead body that everyone else missed, removes that item, and races off to solve the crime.

“The most common errors I find in mystery fiction have to do with chain of custody…When a body is at the scene, everything on that dead body goes with the body to the coroner’s or medical examiner’s office, and any property is documented and submitted into evidence by the technicians or the doctor at the autopsy. Removing it from the body is unthinkable; it would break the chain of custody and is a violation of state law. Even once at the coroner’s office, the item cannot be removed from evidence without being signed for. Any expert that is consulted has to be approved by the department, must be qualified to give opinions in court, and will have to write a report on their findings and observations. The evidence won’t be left with this expert for further testing without documentation of chain of custody, either. Otherwise, any crucial clues that the expert gives the investigator will be challenged in court as being unreliable and will invariably get thrown out by a judge.” —Dr. Judy Melinek, a forensic pathologist and co-author with writer T.J. Mitchell of Working Stiff: Two Years, 262 Bodies and the Making of a Medical Examiner.

An imprisoned character uses a file to escape from his cell.

“In prison, the bars on cells are hollow and they are filled with oil. And inside the oil is a free-floating, solid-steel rod. That way, if you saw through the first bar, the oil will lubricate the second one, and it will spin so you can’t saw through it.” —Dawn West, retired Newport News sheriff’s deputy.

GQ-suited G-men leap-frog around the country on private jets to chase down a criminal.

“It’s kind of funny the way so many stories show agents climbing on the bureau plane. If we do fly somewhere, we fly commercial! I’m probably one of the only agents who has ever been on the agency plane, and that was because I had to fly down to Gitmo to do an interrogation.” —Retired FBI Special Agent David Coes.

CIA spooks nab someone off Main Street and whisk him off for interrogation.

“One of the things a lot of [spy novelists] get wrong is showing the CIA operating on United States soil. We have very strong laws in this country to prevent the CIA and other intelligence agencies from spying on Americans, so you don’t have CIA officers running around on the streets of America. You can go to jail for it.”
—Mark Henshaw, a former analyst with the CIA’s “Red Cell” think tank.

A villain points his pistol menacingly in someone’s direction. Then, to make his point more dramatic, he cocks it.

“The one most often seen in movies is the guy cocking the hammer on a single-action automatic, such as the 1911 military .45. That type of semi-automatic pistol is cocked when the slide is pulled back to chamber a round and normally stays cocked until fired. So cocking it manually before the slide is operated would be cocking the weapon on an empty chamber.” —Bill Walsh, two-time director of the National Practical Pistol Championships.

…Then everything exploded in a flash.

“Hollywood makes two big mistakes when it comes to explosives. First, not every detonation produces a red ball of fire. It’s actually hard to get that effect; you have to add just the right amount of diesel fuel. Secondly, and more importantly for a writer, the bomb technician who disarms the device is usually misunderstood. We are often portrayed as reckless cowboys or nutty cranks. Remember Crazy Harry from the Muppet Show? In reality, though, working with explosives never gets blasé, and you’ll rarely meet more careful and safety-conscious professionals.” —Brian Castner, former commander of an Army Explosive Ordinance Disposal unit.

Bill Glose, a former paratrooper and combat platoon leader, serves now as the books editor at Virginia Living. Whenever possible, he undertakes intriguing pursuits – such as walking across Virginia and participating in a world-record-setting skinny dip – to write about for magazines. His website (BillGlose.com) includes a page of helpful information for writers.

(Editor’s Note: For more helpful tips and articles go to http://www.writermag.com and sign up for their email list.)

***

Darwin’s Beast
by Shawn Jacobson

(Shawn Jacobson serves as the treasurer of the National Federation of the Blind Writers’ Division. His work has been published online in Bewildering Stories. He graces us this month with this poetry.)

Nature is a beast
seizing life with tooth and claw;
Darwin’s will be done.
	
We lose the huntress into our back yard.
Her primal beagle cry sings through the dawn.
A luckless rabbit flees her savage joy
of her pursuit, her bloody birthright red.
Her nature pays no homage to the weak.
That faltered flesh she owns the right to eat.
Chasing this sanguine prize is her delight
to fill her belly and her untamed soul.

We, this beast, will tame,
conform it to our design;
so, we intervein.

As we go forth to end the bloody hunt,
to save the pray from nature’s rending jaws,
I wonder what she thinks of what we do.
Does nature disapprove of our designs?
Perhaps, with deep resentment she longs for,
the raw and tasty prize that we deny.
Or does she merely answer to our call.
I wonder if she thinks high thoughts at all.

Nature is a beast
that we bend to suit our will;
Darwin overruled

***

Timeless Boundaries: An Introduction to the Biography Poem
by Lynda Mckinney Lambert

(Lynda McKinney Lambert, retired professor of fine arts and humanities, recently completed a chapbook, "first snow," a collection of winter poems. She is currently working on her third full-length book, "Star Signs: New & Selected Poems," with expected publication for both in late 2018. Her latest book, "Walking By Inner Vision: Stories & Poems" was published in February 2017. She was nominated for "Best of the Net, 2016-17, for "Prologue," an essay, in that book. Her poem, “Red December," received recognition by Proverse (Hong Kong) & was awarded a Proverse" Prize for a Single Poem. "Red December" will be published in the new anthology, "Mingled Voices #2," this year. She had over 140 publications in 2017 in literary journals, anthologies and books. Her work focuses on history, nature, mythology and art from her Christian World View. Lambert's visual art also appears in international gallery exhibitions during the year.) 

Typically, a bio is a biographical statement that you would write about yourself. Once you begin sending your work out for publication submission, you will need a bio. This statement can be as short as 50 words, or as long as 150 words. Let’s take this idea and transform it into a "Biography-Poem. ”For youy "Biography Poem," the focus will be on you. Your poem will be autobiographical or a memoir. Think about who you are; personal preferences, education, home, goals, desires, traits, history, ancestry, etc. Brainstorm and write out a variety of words that describe yourself. If you begin this way you will have a lot of information to choose from when you begin to compose your poem. 

You can work on a 10-line poem by using the information I supply below. This is a good way to begin your brainstorming for information for your own biographical poem. 

10-line Biography Example

Line 1: What is your First name (& middle name if you have one) 

Line 2: Write 3 aspects of your personality  

Line 3: Write about 3 specific family members - immediate family or ancestry   

Line 4: List 3 favorite things –what is your passion?    

Line 5: Write 3 core beliefs 

Line 6: List 4 favorite words 

Line 7: 3 Places you want to visit in the future.  

Line 8: What is your birth month?   

Line 9: Where do you live now? 

Line 10: What is your LAST Name?  

Option #1: 

Once you have created a biographical poem based on the 10-line poem example that follows, you can leave it and consider it complete.  You can move words around and exchange words as you feel necessary. Read it aloud to get a feeling for how the poem sounds. Next, take a look at your 10-line poem. Does it look consistent? No long lines reaching out far beyond your other lines?  Try to make your poem look  and sound balanced. 

_____

Option #2: 

You can choose a poem form to follow if you want to try something different. By using the information, you put into your 10-line poem, you will have a great start at beginning a biographical poem that takes the form of a traditional poem such as a lyric, sonnet, tritina, sestina, diamante’ or other styles.

___

My 10-line Biographical -Poem Example

My name is Lynda Jeanne   

caring, self-motivated, inspired, smart 

Esther is my mother; Bill is my father;
Ida Matilda is my maternal grandma 

stones; poems; nature, black crows 

I believe in Heaven, stars and timeless boundaries 

aubergine, hirsch, helix and woodlands 

I want to re-visit Aachen, Germany again and  
stand in Charlemagn's Palace Chapel 

August - Birthstone is Peridot 

my home is The Village of Wurtemburg 

McKinney became Lambert   

_____

From Option #2, I chose to write a Bio-Pantoum Poem. This 15th century form is my favorite. It has repetition which moves the poem along and sets a rhythm. When I am writing a Pantoum, I feel like I am dancing. I find it a joyous form of poetry to write or to read out loud. It is magical, in my mind. 

_____

Timeless Boundaries
by Lynda McKinney Lambert
Copyright, February 11, 2018

My mother,

Esther, named me Lynda Jeanne 

Virgo girls are caring, self-motivated and smart 

my father is a soldier and Grandma Ida bakes bread 

I gather stones as I wade in the cool creek. 

Virgo girls are caring, self-motivated and smart 

I believe in timeless boundaries, stars and black crows 

I gather stones as I wade in the cool creek. 

I like the taste of purple eggplant and dancing in a circle 

I believe in timeless boundaries, stars and black crows 

stood beside Charlemagne's throne in Aachen 

I like the taste of purple eggplant and dancing in a circle 

August girls wear Peridot stones. 

stood beside Charlemagne's 

throne in Aachen 

my ancestors settled in Wurtemburg  

August girls wear Peridot stones 

my name changed from McKinney to Lambert 

***

Princess
by Trish Hubschman

Could Janie’s life be any worse?  she just got laid off from her job and the love of her life dumped her.  She wanted to run away. 

Her chance appeared.  Janie’s friend, Margo, told her that The movie company she worked for was looking for a production assistant.  “It’s an easy job,” Margo said.  “All you have to do is work long hours, never question anything they say and take instructions and do pronto!”  Janie could do that.  She applied for the job and got it.

The crew was going on location to a small country near England called Lenise.  They’d be away for two months.  She rushed back to her apartment to pack her things and  give the keys to her landlord.   Janie had  no family. Since age six, she had been in the foster care system.  Her mother had been killed in a car accident and there was no father listed on her birth certificate.  

Two days later, the crew boarded a chartered plane and was on their way to Europe.   Lenise was beautiful and scenic.  The country wasn’t much of a tourist trap.  That was good for Star Movies.  

Now it was time to work.  Her instructions were to move this prop an inch to the right, so she did that, or move it a bit back to the left, slightly forward or back.  By the end of the first week, her arms and back hurt, she was exhausted and nothing seemed to be  accomplished.  Everybody needed a break.   

Thankfully, their executive producer had the answer.  Everyone gathered around him when he waved his arms in the air.  “Because you’ve all worked so hard this past week...” he began..  “And in gratitude of our hosts for picking Lenise to film our new movie, we’ve all been invited to a small gathering Sunday at Prince Martin’s palace.”  He held his arms higher.  “Now, please, present yourselves in the dignity of Star Movies and citizens of the United States of America.”   

“What are you going to wear Sunday?” Margo asked Janie, sidling up to her as they moved away from the producer.

Janie was nervous and thrilled.  “Oh gee, I have to check my wardrobe to see which outfit I brought would be the most appropriate - jeans, t-shirts, shorts,” she teased.

Margo giggled. “I guess I have the same problem, but we can go shopping tomorrow,” Morgan  added.  Janie’s eyes widened. Margo giggled again.  “Yes, people buy clothes around here.”  “Did you bring your American Express card?”

Janie nodded.  “Of course, I don’t have any money, cash, I mean.”    

The next day, they went shopping, to a boutique, in Lenise.  Neither had a clue how much they charged on their credit cards.  They’d worry about that later.  This was an important event and they had to be at their best, and relax and have fun too.  

Four jeeps were sent to pick up the movie crew.  Margo was furious.  “I’m dressed in my finest and I have to crawl into that military-looking thing?” she snapped.   Janie had to fight to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Maybe this is the best they can do,” Janie surmised.  “Lenise isn’t a rich country.”  She got in to the vehicle. The interior was immaculate.  “See, that wasn’t too bad,” Janie said when they reached the palace forty-five minutes later.  She got out and smooth down her skirt.  “Barely a wrinkle on me.”  

Margo giggled.  “Let’s join the party,” she said excitedly, pointing to a huge gathering of nicely dressed people.  Tuxedoed waiters were walking around with platters of food and drinks.  Colorful umbrella-shaded tables were set up everywhere.  There was a live band playing.  Janie and Margo had to restrain themselves from racing over to the gala.

They joined a table with a few other Star crew members. They were drinking ice tea and eating delicious canopies.  Everyone was enjoying themselves.  Standing not far away and looking at Janie, was a tall, drop-dead gorgeous man.  “Who is that?” Margo asked to nobody in particular, nudging Janie.  

Janie didn’t know, but Carol, a makeup and wardrobe assistant, did.  “That’s Prince Gregory, Prince Martin’s middle son.  There are three boys and one girl.  Camille’s the beautiful young woman over there,” Carol said, pointing.

Margo squinted suspiciously at Carol.  “How do you know so much about the royal family here?”

Carol smiled.  “MY husband, Michael, does business with this country.”  No spouses were allowed to come along on Star’s budget, but Michael was here on his own company’s tab.  “There he is now.” Carol jumped to her feet.  “Got to run.”

Margo rose too. “I think I want to mingle. You coming?” she asked.  Janie shook her head.  “Miss out on all the fun then,” Margo teased, moving off.

Janie stared after her.  She was  lost in thought.  “Can I join you?” came a man’s voice.  Janie immediately snapped back to attention. It was him, Prince Gregory.   Without waiting for Janie to respond, he pulled out a chair and sat down.  It was just the two of them.  “I’m Gregory,” he introduced himself.

She swallowed hard. “I’m Janie, this is a lovely party.”  To her own ears, that sounded weak, but what else could she say? 

He gave her a winning smile, his blue eyes twinkled.  Janie’s heart was jumping wildly.  She wanted to kick herself under the table, but didn’t - what if her foot missed and she kicked him?  “It’s run of the mill, if you ask me.”  He sounded bored about it.  “Have you met my parents?” he asked.  Janie shook her head.  “Come on,” he said, pushing back his chair and rising.  “I’ll introduce you.  Mom and dad are great people.”  He had her arm and was pulling her up.  But wait, she wanted to scream.  How was she supposed to handle this?  What was she supposed to say?   “Mom, dad,” Gregory said when they stood beside his parents table.  “This is Jane Taylor from Star Movies,” He said with a flourish and such dignity that Janie had to fight to keep from looking over her shoulder to see who he was talking about.  “Janie, meet my parents’, Martin and Lisa Kingston.”        

“It’s very lovely to meet you, Miss Taylor,” his mother said, winking her eye.  Janie was confused.  Had she missed something here?    

“It’s very nice to meet you too and thank you so much for inviting us here today.  It’s an honor. ” She said it all in one breath, but she’d done it and  hadn’t fainted.  His parents didn’t think she was a total louse either.

“Are you going to be joining us for dinner later?” Prince Martin asked Janie.  “Or do the two of you have other plans?”  

Janie’s eyes bounced up to Gregory. Now she was certain she was missing something.  

“Dinner here, of course, Dad,” Gregory said, excusing them and leading Janie away.  

“What was that all about?” she pressed.  He chuckled.

“They think you’re my girlfriend.”

Her mouth dropped open.  “But we only just met,” she protested.   Gregory shrugged.  “And another thing...”  She wagged her finger.  “Who’s going to be hungry enough to eat dinner after this extravaganza?”  She waved her hand around. “I don’t know how you people dress for dinner.  I also came here in one of our father’s jeeps.  I have no way of returning to the hotel if I stay here after my crew leaves.” 

“Dinner’s not till nine. You’re dressed fine. Most nights we go casual around here, but because of this tea thing today, dress attire is acceptable.”  Janie rolled her eyes.  “And I’ll drive you back to your Star bungalow afterwards.”  

His arrogance infuriated her, but she didn’t say anything.  She was having fun and making friends, even with the royal family.

. . .

“I want to know everything,” Margo said when Janie came into their hotel room at midnight.  She was sitting up in bed.  Janie didn’t feel like talking.  She was too tired and if she didn’t get some sleep, she’d never be able to get up at six a.m. to be on the set by seven.  Margo was still talking.  “Did you have a nice time with the Prince? Does he like you?”  she answered her own question. “Of course, he likes you. You were with him since two this afternoon.  Are you going to see him again?”  Margo crossed her arms over her chest and gazed dreamy-eyed the ceiling.  “You’re going to fall in love and become a princess?”

Janie rolled her eyes.  She was putting on her pajamas. “Go to sleep.  We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Janie said, climbing in to bed.

Margo wasn’t ready to give up.  “At least tell me if you’re going to see him again.  Give me something to dream of.”

Janie turned onto her side to face Margo.  “Yes, he’s picking me up tomorrow after we’re finished on the set.”   Janie had no idea what time they would be rounding up for the day.  But Gregory said he’d wait for her.  “He’s taking me out to dinner.”  With that, she rolled over to face the wall.  She didn’t say another word. A few minutes later, she heard a sigh of resignation from Margo, then complete silence.  Margo was asleep, Janie could relax now and get some rest herself, Only, as she discovered, she was unable to fall asleep.  

Gregory arrived on the set the next day at five.  They weren’t even close to finished, but Janie saw the producer signal to the director to round things up quickly.  Over the next few weeks, Janie and Gregory  spent a lot of time together.  He took her to parties, they went for strolls on the beach and drives up the coast.  He wanted to show her the sights and share his home with her. It was all so beautiful.  She had countless dinners at the palace, sometimes Margo came along and never stopped talking about it afterwards.  

“You fit in so well with the Prince’s  bunch,” Margo said.  

“We’re just friends, that’s all,” Janie insisted, to Margo and to everyone else, including herself.  She couldn’t let it be more than that with Gregory, couldn’t risk another broken heart.   When they finish filming the movie, she’d return to the States.  

She knew she was becoming much too attached to Prince Gregory though.  She enjoyed every minute they shared together and sensed he did too.  it was downright scary, but, hard as she tried to figure out what to do to protect herself, she couldn’t come up with anything. She didn’t want to be hurt, but she didn’t want to lose out on being with him.  

The time in Lenise seemed to fly by much too fast.  The shooting was wrapped up right on schedule.  That last evening, she and Gregory sat at their favorite outdoor café, a plate of shrimp between them. Neither was hungry, neither knew how to proceed with the conversation, whether to keep it light or be serious.

He spoke first. “My parents like you a lot.”  

Janie smiled.  “I like them too.  They’re wonderful people, really down-to-earth.”  She lowered her head and giggled.  “I would have thought royal families were stuffy.” She blushed.

He chuckled.  “There are a lot of things about my family that would surprise you.”

Janie didn’t doubt that.  “How did you know my last name was Taylor?” she asked. He looked at her quizzically,.  “That first time, at your parents garden party, you introduced me to them as Jane Taylor, I never told you my last name.”

He leaned his head back and laughed heartily.  “I’d like to say that I have access to all sorts of information and can find out anything I want to, wherever or whoever it’s about, kind of like your FBI.”  Janie giggled.  Gregory shrugged.  “To make things easier, I asked your producer – who is that pretty lady over there?”  Gregory made a disdainful face.  “Unfortunately, his taste in women differs from mine greatly and he didn’t know which lady I was asking about,” he said dryly.  Janie burst into a fit of giggles.  Gregory picked up a piece of shrimp and turned it over.  “It cost me twenty bucks American money to pry the information out of him.”

She smacked him with her hand.  “I’m worth far more than that and you know it.”

Janie wished she could take those words back because they had an effect on him, one she was trying to avoid.  Suddenly, his face grew serious.  I wish you didn’t have to go,” he said softly.  Janie’s head popped up, she stared at him with wide-eyes.  “The past couple of months have been the greatest,” he went on.  Her heart was pounding wildly.   “I can’t ask you to stay, it wouldn’t be right,” he added. Janie’s heart dropped, so did her mouth.  “That decision has to be yours.”  She wanted to kick him.  Why didn’t he just ask her to stay, if that’s what he wanted, then she’d make the decision?  “You have your life there,” he added. 

You have yours here, she finished silently. Tears were welling up in her eyes.  She lowered her head, so he wouldn’t see them.  She swallowed hard and nodded.  “Sure,” she whispered, uncertain what she meant with that one word.

He lifted her chin with his fingertips.  “Don’t look so sad, Princess. We can still talk to each other on the phone, email, and I’ll come visit you?

Big whoop, she thought, friends forever.  Well, that’s what she had wanted all along.  “I have to get up early to catch the flight home with the crew.”

And she did. She sat in the window seat, not looking out, not speaking to anyone, just sulking.  Nobody interrupted her.  

When she got back to her building, Janie went to her landlord’s apartment to get her keys.  “I did what you asked, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Jarvis said proudly.  “I let my nephew stay in your apartment to keep an eye on things while you were gone.”  Janie was please and relieved.  Mr. Jarvis went on.  “I charged him half the rent you were paying.”  He paused.  “So you owe the other half, which would be equal to one month’s rent.” 

Janie’s heart dropped.  She hadn’t expected this, but, at least, half was better than having to pay all.  “I don’t have it right now,” she said easily.  “Can I owe it to you till I get my next paycheck?”  He agreed.  She turned to head up the stairs to her apartment.  

Mr. Jarvis continued speaking.  “Oh, one more thing I have to tell you.”  Janie stopped abruptly on the third step and turned back to him.  Her heart was thumping too quickly.  “My nephew kind of left a little mess in there.  I hadn’t had the time to clean it.  Hope that’s okay.”

If that was all, she’d deal with it.  She raced up the steps and put her key in the lock.  What faced her wasn’t a little mess, it looked like a cyclone hit it.  Well, she would grab a shovel and some garbage bags and it would keep her busy. 

By the third night, the apartment was sparkling again, just the way it had been when she left two months ago.  Janie was exhausted, sweaty and her back and arms hurt.  She was ready for a hot bath and some relaxation.  She headed for the bedroom, pulling the red bandana off her head and tossing it on the sofa. The front door buzzer sounded.  Frustrated at the interruption, Janie swung back around and glared at it. It had to be Mr. Jarvis coming to bug her about the rent.  She didn’t want to deal with him right then, but the buzzer sounded again.  Sighing with exasperation, Janie marched across the living room and pulled the door open, about to give her landlord a piece of her mind. Then she stopped.  Her caller wasn’t her landlord. It was Gregory, looking even more handsome than he had a few days ago.

“Here I am,” he announced.  “I promised I’d visit.”  Janie stared at him, unable to speak.  “Is that okay?” he asked slowly. “I missed you and I couldn’t stay away anymore.”  Her eyes were wide.  He was becoming nervous. “Would you say something already, I feel like I’m bleeding out my heart to myself.”

Slowly, a smile drew to her lips.  “Your heart should be falling apart, mine is.”  Tears were dripping down her cheeks.

He came inside and closed the door behind him.  He took her in his arms.  “I deserved that,” he said into her hair. “Is there anything else you want to add to that before I really spill my guts and tell you how much I love you and beg you to come home with me.”

She pulled away from him, laughing. She smacked his shoulder playfully.  “Yeah, we’ve been apart four whole days.  What took you so long to get here?"

***

Submission Guidelines For Slate and Style

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Submission Dates
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***

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