If you’d told me five years ago that I’d be not only reading, but enjoying, a book by a staunch conservative politician from Wyoming, I’d have advised laying down whatever pipe you’d been smoking. Fiction is my literary main squeeze (and I don’t mean the type of fiction spread by many Republicans after Trump’s election loss). Yet here I am, recommending it to you. Crazy times call for desperate measures and make strange bedfellows, as the pipe-smoker says.

Liz Cheney is many things, but she’s no fan of Donald Trump, and she cannot abide lies. So we started off on solid common ground. Like millions of us, I’d watched the January 6th hearings on TV, and I knew Cheney ultimately lost her job over her refusal to back down from the truth. I wondered what else she might have to say.

Cheney’s book covers the two-year period that includes the 2020 election, the events of January 6, the January 6th Select Committee’s work, and her primary loss to an election denier.

Most of this book reads like a taut courtroom drama, fittingly, since a lawyer wrote it. Part of it—her firsthand account of January 6, 2021—reads like a tense political thriller (which becomes even more tense when you remember that it really happened, and only some of the perpetrators are behind bars).

It’s a tad jargony, Cheney being a self-described nerd about legal topics. It’s sometimes preachy, though not in a bad way—Cheney’s dogma is “country over party” and “fealty to the Constitution over individual leaders.” But it’s smartly written, it’s well paced, and it’s never boring.

A reviewer for the L.A. Times said this book “oozes contempt” for Cheney’s former colleagues and “rarely veers beyond strident anger.” I wonder if we read the same book, as I perceived neither contempt nor anger. Quite the opposite: Cheney lays out the facts with a prosecutor’s meticulous detail. The book’s tone is cool and measured, never zealous or shrill. She includes plenty of juicy quotes from Republicans (Kevin McCarthy comes out looking particularly bad), but with little editorializing. Rather than whip them, she lets them hang themselves with their own rope. A case in point:

Cheney’s description of collaborating with her political opponent, Nancy Pelosi, was not in the least combative, but respectful: “She did not try to micromanage the work of the January 6th Committee, but she was there whenever we needed her. And over the next 18 months, every time I went to her with a concern, a proposed approach, or a request that she intervene with Democrats to help guide things in the right direction, she backed me up. Every time. A relationship that had been unimaginable just a few months earlier would now become indispensable.”

Reading this book reinforced what I already felt, deep down. We have more in common than not, even when we disagree politically. When we set our differences aside to work together on the things that really matter, we are at our best. The flip side of that is that when we hyper-focus on what divides us, we are at our worst. Anyone living in America since 2016 has witnessed that.

Speaking of what brings us together, I keep going back to this picture from the book’s photo insert. Every mom knows what’s going on here. The toddler has been made to miss nap time and wear uncomfortable shoes. All she knows is that it’s a special day for Mom. But Mom isn’t holding her; Mom is posing for photos near some pretty water. The toddler makes her way over—if Mom won’t pick her up, maybe she can go for a swim. Mom says “I don’t think so, missy!” but she smiles, because how could you not:

In summary: I recommend this book to every American. Its message is important, its points are unassailable, and its story is both personal and one that belongs to all of us.

This week, ace book reviewer Jordan of Alpha’s Court was kind enough to interview me for her blog.

Check it out! https://alphascourt.blog/2024/03/25/jen-mierisch-horror-and-humour-together/

Jordan interviewed quite a few amazing authors this month, including the Chicago Horror Writers’ fearless leader and co-chair, Shawnna Deresch.

Happy Women in Horror Month and Women’s History Month!

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Like many introverts, I’ve been camera-shy most of my life. This was especially true when I was younger. As a result, pitifully few photos of my youthful hotness exist. Too bad, because I had amazing hair back then (think Carrie Bradshaw’s curls on Sex & the City).

However, in my 40s, “my give-a-damn’s busted” (as my husband would say). I care tons less about what people think of me, on camera or off. In addition, I’ve been wanting for ages to learn how to edit videos.

So when one of my online writer buddies organized an Instagram reels challenge, I signed up. The goal: create 1 reel every day for a month. Thankfully, that month was February, which meant, even in a leap year, fewer than average days on which to screw up.

I installed CapCut (a free video editing app), played around with it, and created 29 videos last month. Most of them had to do with writing, but I occasionally went rogue and talked about books I’d read, my kids, or whatever. I tried to make them funny, because funny reels are my favorite kind to watch. The nice thing about reels is that they’re short—as short as people’s social media memories. So even if you produce something subpar, no biggie, it’s over in 30 seconds and people have already forgotten it anyway.

Folks, I loved it. It was tons of fun to dip my toes into a creative medium other than writing. To any writer horrified at the idea of making videos, never say never. If my shy Luddite ass can do it, you can too.

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It’s always nice to start a new year with a new published story!

Read my flash fiction tale Moonlight and Roses for free as part of the January issue of Abyss & Apex Magazine.

This tale is about clockwork toys that come to life in the moonlight. It’s not really my usual style. In fact, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever written, and that’s because it sprang to life from an oddly specific writing prompt in a contest.

For this contest, we were asked to write a flash story that combined two genres: clockpunk and romance. My first thought was, “Well, crap. I never write romance. I am soooo bad at romance. I’m toast!” My second thought was, “WTF is clockpunk?!” Forty-eight frenzied hours later, I had come up with this story, which won honorable mention in the contest. It owes a lot to Toy Story, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve watched Toy Story 1, 2, and 3 about a zillion times apiece with my kids, and I’ve always loved the idea of the toys having their own inner lives. Once I went down the rabbit hole of researching 18th-century clockwork automatons, the rest was history.

So: never say never, no matter how wacky a writing prompt may seem. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need to produce something that you never thought you had in you.

How do you measure a year in the life of a writer?

I don’t have a book out yet. So I’m not tallying paperback sales, Goodreads reviews, or readers who reached 100% on their Kindle editions.

I do have some numbers to look at. In 2023, I had 2 poems and 8 short stories published, finished 1 novel (my first ever!), and wrote 11 new stories and poems. I submitted my stories and poems 204 times and received 146 rejections. Those numbers represent a lot of work, dedication, and time spent.

But I feel like those numbers don’t tell the whole story.

Maybe I should play my Rent soundtrack, and borrow from “Seasons of Love,” and measure this year:
In edits,
In stories,
In typos,
In publications?
In poems,
In nights,
In drafting,
In strife…
How about love?

Yeah, how about love? That might be the true measure. After all, only a small percentage of writers make their entire living writing. For most of us, it’s a labor of love. I’ve felt a lot of love this year, both for the writing craft and for the communities I’ve found as part of it:

• I spent time with my beloved Lincolnwood Writes, the writers’ group at the Lincolnwood Public Library. This group has been going since before the pandemic and they are a terrific bunch. They were the first ones to read and give feedback on my novel’s first chapter, for which I’ll be forever grateful.
• I joined Threads in 2023 and connected with hundreds of writers, editors, artists, publishers, and agents. My feed is filled with talk about writing, publishing, drafting, rejections, and the myriad facets (both bright and dark) of the writing life. It’s delightful.
• This year, for the first time ever, I wrote a story for an anthology as an invited author. That was an honor, and I’m proud of the collection we put together.
• In 2023 I got myself 2 accountability buddies, fellow writers with whom I agreed to check in periodically about our works in progress. It was thanks to them that I finished my book. I was so motivated to have something to tell them during our weekly check-ins! They have been lovely and encouraging all along the way. After I write this post, my next move will be to send them notes to talk about projects for 2024.
• In September, I rented a tiny cabin in the woods to dedicate the weekend to writing and hiking all by myself. I don’t do this often, but it’s a form of self-love for my introvert nature.
• I wrote a custom (what the youngsters might call “bespoke”) horror poem for my 666th follower on BlueSky, because why not.
• I hung out with the Chicago Horror Writers Association, got to know my fellow members better, and served as the chapter secretary.
• I attended every free lecture I could find, to learn more from other people about the business of writing. In the process, I even got selected for a 60-second live pitch event (wow, that was an experience!) to pitch my book over Zoom, and had my novel’s first line chosen for one of Reedsy’s very educational First Line Frenzy events.
• I joined the Chicago Writers’ Association, mainly to enter their first chapter contest (which I did not win), and I look forward to exploring future opportunities with this group.
• I spoke at public meetings and went door to door to encourage people in my town to vote for excellent candidates for library board, and to defeat their opponents who wanted to ban books.
• I beta read other people’s stories, and cheered on my fellow writers’ successes. It’s wonderful to see other creatives polish their work and succeed.

To all of you reading this, best of luck in 2024 with your labors of love! I’d love to know what you’ll be working on in the coming year. Tell me about it in the comments.

A while back, I promised a custom sonnet for whoever became my 666th follower on BlueSky. That honor went to a writer named Mark.

“Mark,” I said, “you get your choice of genre, humor or horror.” To my great delight, Mark said, “How about both?” Because only thing better than horror and comedy is a horror comedy!

Have a gander, Mark, and thanks for the follow. This was fun to write.

Debbie Dybbuk Does Caesar’s Palace

I roam Las Vegas as a restless haunt,
To wreck my ex, and though I cannot kill,
An agent of revenge is what I want,
A person I’ll possess to work my will.

This dressy dame will do the trick, I think,
All giant hair and glitz and chardonnay.
I seize her brain and body in a blink
And strut those high-heeled Jimmy Choos his way.

She flirts with him, and laughs, and eggs him on,
Her foxy figure under my command,
And, drunk with lust, his inhibitions gone,
He bets it all on one last poker hand.

He got away with leaving me to rot,
But keeping all my money? I think not!

Coming soon: December Tales II: A Collection of New and Encore Ghost Stories. It includes my story “On the Back Roads,” set in a small Appalachian town in the 1970s.

The Kindle edition is available now for pre-order!

Our kids were born in Chicago. Monday night wasn’t the first time they went trick-or-treating in the snow.

Our 12-foot-tall inflatable yard ghost didn’t fare quite so well in Chicagoland’s snow, ice, and hail on Halloween night. Even the undead can’t conquer Mother Nature.

Better luck next year, buddy!