Writing Prompt Winner: Fiona Walker

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February 2024: Fiona Walker

“an accumulation of small shifts”

Jackie looked around despairingly at the remaining inventory. September already and she was left with an accumulation of small shifts. She desperately needed them to all sell so she could afford to restock for the new season. But fashion proved unpredictable and it was the larger sizes of the simple shaped shifts that had flown out the door.

She looked up in time to see Dorothy – a definite Size 20 – float gracefully by her shop window in a blue and green shift she’d bought early in the summer.

Where are all the small women, she pondered; didn’t they like the simple styling of shifts?

Fiona is a recovering workaholic who loves to twist the turn of a phrase into a pretzel. She is currently working on a survival guide for dementia caregivers. She lives in NW Montana with her husband, cat, and way too many ideas for future projects.

Chris La Tray

Chris La Tray

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If you have any sense of self-love, you’re already following Montana Poet Laureate, Chris La Tray,’s Substack, An Irritable Metis. And you already know that his forthcoming book, Becoming Little Shell is now available for signed pre-order. And you know that he recently re-subscribed for Instagram and you can follow him there. And because you know all this already, because you’ve done all these things, you’re wondering what this post is even about. Bless you.

Here’s what it’s about:

There is a shortage of authentic people in this world (especially now that “authentic” has become such a buzz word). I’ve been disappointed by people so often in my life, so excited to meet a person I’ve put on a pedestal (even though I know better). Chris is not that person. Chris is exactly who you see, exactly who you hear when you read his words. He’s funny and kind, a bit salty and gritty. He’s above all present and real af.

How you can support Chris AND do yourself a solid:

FREE (although there are paid options if you can roll): sign up for his newsletter

FREE: follow him on Instagram

$30: pre-order a SIGNED copy of his new book

Disclosure: I am not in any way, shape, or form affiliated with Chris La Tray and I don’t see a dime if you do any of these things. These suggestions are all made with your best interests in mind. If I’m wrong, tell me so. If I’m right, I don’t need to know although of course you can always tell me so (my ego sometimes needs a boost)

Poetry In Motion

Poetry In Motion

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I’ve found myself obsessed with poetry lately. Mostly because I’ve had the amazing experience of hearing Montana Poet Laureate, Chris La Tray, speak which made poetry come alive for me again. I started down the rabbit hole of not only Chris’ poetry, but that of Jim Harrison and Ted Kooser, of Naomi Shihab Nye and Stanley Kunitz. I’ve begun collecting poetry books on my TBR pile like sprinkles on ice cream. Delectable and decadent and delicious (a nod to anyone who reads Chris’ monthly Substack).

It’s reminded me that I too wrote poetry once. Mostly in college, when Poetry Slam was all the rage. My poem at the time, repeated at every slam to much hooting and hollering, was called Poetry In Motion (of course it was, I was in college). I haven’t thought of that piece in ages, haven’t thought about creating my own poetry again either, until recently, and all thanks to Chris.

So while I don’t have any new poetry to share, I thought it would be tragically humorous to share the poem that won Poetry Slams back in 2000-ish. And please remember, no one was reading this, it was being performed, which is the only reason I can possibly imagine that it won.

Poetry In Motion

You and I,
She says,
We’re poetry in motion.

Poetry in motion, huh?
Bullshit.
We’re not poetry.

We’re Penthouse letters,
   Wet dreams,
   Cheap porn.
We’re parody,
   Fantasy,
   Mystery.

Poetry in motion?
No.
Not poetry,
Not us.

And not that your hips, lips, thighs, and tits,
Don’t inspire me,
For I’ve begun carrying mints
And shaving just a little closer,
But our bodies,
Wet, slick, sliding, riding, contract, shudder, release
Our bodies
Will never be
Good poetry.

Writing Prompt Winner: Fiona Walker

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January 2024: Fiona Walker

“the smell of his leather mitten when he wiped his nose”

The leather mittens were tossed carelessly in a heap of diverse sizes, shapes & tonalities. 3 generations of his family shared a bond with that one brand. It’s timeless quality and workmanship ensured a consistent feel. He rummaged thru looking for a pair that fit. As he picked up the first one he knew instinctively it had been his grandfather’s. The badly worn & barely recognizable leather had the distinctive fragrance of his grandpa’s workshop. It was all there – diesel fumes, gasoline, sawdust, pine pitch, grease & even the faint scent of apple cider. That mitten had been wrapped gratefully around a steaming mug of hot cider at…

Fiona is a recovering workaholic currently writing a survival guide for dementia caregivers. She lives in NW Montana with her husband, cat, and way too many ideas for future projects.

Reaching Out

Reaching Out

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Writing is blissfully/cursedly solitary work. There’s no one that can tell me if I’m on the right track or help me through a sticking point, not really. There are some things I have to trust myself on, wait for the connection to be made in my brain, the click to occur.

There are other things having a writing network can help with. Questions about best practices, event meet-ups, having someone who can hear a complaint without shrugging their shoulders in an inability to empathize.

When I started writing, I was thrilled with the solitariness, I still am. But occasionally, I’d want someone to tell me they too stared out a window in an effort to make the words come. Or that they too had moments where they felt like they were just spinning their wheels, an entire day doing social media because they couldn’t face their manuscript. Someone to agree that these temporary distractions from the work are just that: temporary, and that they’re also oddly essential to the process.

We don’t recognize when our subconscious is working through something our conscious can’t quite see yet.

In an effort to build my network, I did something potentially stupid and inadvisable. I don’t know, I’m not sure. The jury is still out, because it’s been mostly amazing, although I did have one person suspect me of being a scammer 😂

Here’s what I did:

I googled “authors in (my state)” – so Montana, in this case

Then I started a spreadsheet where I listed these people’s first and last names, their websites (as I found them), their email addresses, etc. And I sent them an email, either using their email or through their website’s contact page. My email wasn’t fantastic (clearly it wasn’t if I had one person think I was a scammer), and possibly more because not everyone responded to me.

The email itself was simple. No more than three sentences. A greeting by name, a statement that I am also a writer in their state, that I look forward to reading their book(s), and that I hoped we’d meet in person some day at a workshop, reading, or event, closing with contact info.

Did I really expect to hear from anybody? Yes and no. I figured some of them would drop a quick “hey” and others would ignore me. What I did not expect was to have several of these writers reach back.

Several authors sent me a paragraph or more in response. A few asked me to meet up for coffee or lunch if I was ever in their area. A couple have remained in touch and I hear from them every month or so. Some I’ve since had the privilege to meet in person at various events. And some I follow on all the socials and it feels a bit like following a friend, and not a just a writing mentor or hero.

Should you do what I did? I dunno…it probably depends on what state you live in. I happen to live in a place where people know their neighbors by name and flick a wave to one another when passing in the street. Perhaps in another state it wouldn’t work.

If I had to do it all again, I’d probably wait until after I’d read their book to contact them. That way I could have said how much I liked it or what specifically I liked about it.

I still add to my spreadsheet as I meet other writers in the area and/or read a book from a Montana writer I hadn’t previously heard from.

Probably the only reason I heard from as many writers as I did and received such genuinely lovely responses, is that I undertook this exercise from a genuine and vulnerable place. This little exercise wasn’t undertaken as a way to further my career, to ask for blurbs, or to make myself sound cool. I could have reached out to ANY writers, not just in my state. Go big or go home, right? I could have reached out to Stephen King! But that would have felt disingenuous. As a teenager obsessed with everything he wrote? Genuine. As an adult who doesn’t read horror? Fake.

If you’re looking for a writer network, it’s not a bad idea. There’s probably a less archaic way to go about it. Especially with the new Threads app that allows you to use tags like #WriterThreads (hugely popular). Whatever you do, if you’re looking for community, the best way to proceed is now. Decide what you want to do and do it. Follow writers on Threads. Follow agencies on Facebook. Follow publishers on Instagram.

Do something to ensure you have a network when you need one. Even if they’re strangers now, they won’t be forever, unless you give up on your dream, and having a network may just help you follow it.