Stacey E. Bryan's Blog

I felt the need to reblog Carol’s beautiful poem Monsters in the Making, a lyrical reminder of what was, what is, and what could be. Thank you, Carol A. Hand.

For the puppets and the puppet-masters –Monsters in the Making

In response to escalating events, we put on Dr. Strangelove tonight and belly laughed through the entire movie. And it would have been even funnier if it hadn’t paralleled recent situations and personalities with mind-blowing kinship–incompetence, fanaticism, spinelessness, and utter chaos included.

Still, got a little high on those laughter endorphins while embracing the pain. Go find the Doctor and get a little high too.

Hello, me again! Just an addendum to the previous post: for those of you who are Kindle readers, Hard Luck Harry in Deadtime is available here: https://a.co/d/5S7AhZB

Also available on most e-book platforms! Just saying…

xoxo Stacey

It’s probably not something to brag about, but it only took hubby and me 30 years to collaborate on a book together. Should I be proud? Embarrassed? Maybe somewhere in between….I am happy, tho.

The publisher sent out preorder links, so I’m posting it here. If you use the promo code: PREORDER2025, it’s 15% off! But as these aren’t the best days to be spending $$ on stuff we don’t need to survive, waiting for the electronic version might be a better option.

If, of course, you’re into dy...

Years ago when my husband and I moved back to LA into an apartment in the Valley, an elderly neighbor who was living alone, Mrs. Bacchus, developed a mysterious affection toward my husband (she hated everyone else, including me).

Hubby was returning home one day and as he walked past Mrs. Bacchus’ door, a raspy, dry voice called out, “Rico! Rico!” (My husband doesn’t have or want an online presence, so Rico is my alias for him, not his real name). He heard desperation and urgent need. He d...

It’s that time of year again! Fellow blogger Glen of Scenic Writer’s Shack is hosting his second annual writing contest, and you’re invited. Deadline–March 10th. Get all the deets at his site below, along with cash prize amounts! We already love to write. Getting paid to write–cherry on top. And it’s free!

Writing Competition Launch

The winning stories last year, posted on Glen’s site, were a blast to read, proving that much untold talent and creativity lurks in our midst. Tell your friends, t...

(Reposted from a post years ago. Not because of writer’s block. Just a certain general lack of élan. Which is sort of worse.)

Someone once said there was no such thing as writer’s block. You’re just out of ideas. Um….well, I’d call that a block, wouldn’t you? If you’re out of ideas, you’re blocked from writing. From words. From ideas. From sentences. From endings. Beginnings.

If you happened to follow Sandman while it was on, one of our favorite episodes was where a writer acquires a muse from...

After my father had been alone in his house in Calabasas for about a decade, he decided to sell.

It was a strange experience trying to help him, because he didn’t seem to have any attachment to most of the things he owned. In the midst of looking up places to sell a beautiful, long serving table and the family’s small upright piano, I’d call him with my progress and he’d say, “Oh, I gave the piano away, darling.” “Oh, I gave the serving table to so and so.”

I helped him clear out the junk and ...

The year: 1581. The place: feudal Japan, Kyoto.

The person: Yasuke. A six-foot-tall African man kidnapped as a boy, possibly from either Mozambique, South Sudan, Nigeria, or Ethiopia (there’s little surviving documentation) who by 1581 was accompanying Jesuit missionary Alessandro Valignano, dispatched by Pope Gregory XIII to inspect new Roman Catholic missions in Asia, as an attendant bodyguard.

After two years of inspecting Jesuit missions, Alessandro prepared to leave but requi...

I was just thinking of all the ways one can define insanity, and one of the biggest ones is the Haitian Revolution and its aftermath.

You get out of bed one day. You decide you’ve had enough. You fight against French colonial rule and your own enslavement until the death–of you, of them, of whomever gets in the way.

You win. They leave, scared and defeated.

Then you spend decades, generations, paying “reparations” to the French for their “loss of income”?

I’m surprised that was...