Remember to keep reading for your free short story at the end. WHAT IS IT? The leading topic of discussion these days appears to be Artificial Intelligence (AI) and particularly ChatGPT. It is causing nervous twitches across wide sectors of the community, including amongst writers. Whatever else it might do, it appears capable of generating a strong negative emotional response. Comments flow freely both for and against this new technology and what it might mean for us mere mortals. As with any debate, both sides of the argument put forward impressive cases. Mostly the concern centres on people losing their livelihoods as a result of it. The only way to have an informed opinion about something is to know and understand it, So, that’s we set out to achieve. It is early days yet and the jury is still out, but there appear to be some aspects of writing that might benefit from the assistance of AI. But, no, it is unlikely to ‘scratch a writer’s itch’. And that informed opinion…? Watch this space. More of it’s potential benefits needs to be explored before any informed opinion is available. But, so far, there is little to suggest a writer’s creativity is under threat or the need for it is about to become redundant any time soon. WHAT’S NEW?
Although everyone is working flat-out at the moment, at first glance, nothing new appears to be happening. Kayla Danoli admits she is kicking around a few ideas for her next novel but no writing is happening yet. Neive Denis is being kept busy with the editing of her new cosy mystery novel possibly to be released in September. In between edits and rewrites for that story, she is part way through writing the third book of the Merivale Retirement Village series. There is some hope this one will be released before the end of the year. SOME LIGHT READING This month’s story was inspired by the criteria for a short story competition from some time ago. Unwelcome Mail “It’s filthy out there today,” Tanya announced as Jan held the front door open for her. “I saw the postman deliver your mail as I drove up your street, so I grabbed it out of your letterbox and shoved it in my bag as I came past. It wouldn’t take long for it to become a soggy mass if left out there in the rain.” “Thanks. Just dump it on the table. I’ll deal with it as soon as I check on our lunch.” Both women looked up when the front door slammed shut. “Mum, I’m home,” Kate called out from just inside the door where she was removing her coat and sodden shoes. “I hope that’s lunch I can smell. How long before it’s ready? I’m starving.” “Me too,” Tanya added “It smells like just the thing to have for lunch on a cold, wet day.” “It is ready now,” Jan assured them. “I just need to set the table. So, Kate, please take that bundle of mail off the table and dump it in my office.” As Kate picked up the mail, something fell out of the bundle and floated down to the floor. Jan saw her daughter bend forward and pick it up. In that instant, from the look on her daughter’s face, Jan knew something was not right. As she rushed to investigate, she saw her daughter flip the card over and immediately flip it back again. “What is it, Kate,” Jan asked quietly as she felt her stomach tighten. “Looks like junk mail to me,” Tanya suggested. Kate didn’t reply. She just continued to stand there holding the card away from her as though it might explode at any moment. “Kate, what is it?” Jan demanded. Her harsh tone startled her stunned daughter, whose head snapped up from staring at the card lying face-down in her hand. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s nothing really. As Aunt Tanya said, it’s just junk mail.” “No junk mail I’ve ever received before has had such an impact on me. What is it?” “It’s … It’s just a card, that’s all.” “Who is it from? Come on, Kate, talk to me.” “There isn’t an address. There’s nothing to indicate who it is from. It’s just a card, Mum, a Tarot card.” Jan reached out and snatched the card from her daughter’s hand. She felt her pulse step up a notch as she slowly turned it over. Tanya, who had been gathering up plates and cutlery in the kitchen in readiness for setting the table, didn’t hear the last part of the conversation. But she did hear Jan’s sharp intake of breath. She rushed to Jan’s side. “What is it? Come on, you two, tell me what’s happened. You both look terrified. Jan shook her head and held the card in close to her chest so Tanya couldn’t see it. “It’s just rubbish, Tanya, nothing for you to be concerned about.” “Well, I collected the mail from the letterbox, so maybe I should see whatever the terrifying thing is that I brought into the house with me,” Tanya said and held out her hand. Again, Jan shook her head. “No, Tanya. It’s just a Tarot card; probably someone playing a prank.” “A Tarot card…? Which card is it?” “Death…,” Kate whispered. “Really, Tanya!” Jan snapped. “I don’t see anything funny about this card being sent to us in the mail without any indication of who sent it or why. I didn’t expect you to find our concern quite so hilarious.” “Of course you’re right, Jan, and I wouldn’t have thought it nearly so hilarious if it had been sent to you in the mail,” Tanya reassured them as soon as she managed to control her laughter sufficiently to be able to speak. “When I grabbed your mail, I shoved it in the top of my tote bag to try to protect it from the rain. The Tarot card wasn’t in your mail. It was in my bag and became caught up with everything when I pulled the mail out of my bag.” “You were carrying the Death card around with you?” Kate queried her aunt. “Why would you do that? Were you going to give it to someone? Or did someone give it to you?” “I came here straight after my writing group finished this morning. I nearly didn’t go today when the weather was so bad, but I’m glad I did. Every week we are given homework to do for the next lesson. The homework we were given this time was different and exciting. Our instructor brought in a large brown paper bag from a supermarket. The bag contained a selection of small objects. Each one of us had to reach into the bag and draw out one item. We were to take our chosen object home with us, and before next week’s lesson, we have to write a short story inspired by the object we selected. Next week, we have to return the object and read our resultant story to the group. I drew out the Tarot card. I already had a couple of vague ideas for a story based on that card buzzing around in my head, but I think I might have just found a better one,” Tanya gave Jan a mischievous look. “Now I am really excited and can’t wait to go home and make a start on writing my story. You have no idea how relieved I am that you found the card while I was still here. Because I needed the card for inspiration and knew I had to return it to its rightful owner next week, I would have been beside myself when I came to write the story and the card wasn’t in my bag. I don’t want to think about how embarrassed I would have been having to confess to our writing instructor that I had ruined his pack of Tarot cards by losing his Death card. It’s likely I would have gone and bought another pack just so I had a Death card to return to him and didn’t have to admit I lost his. Ladies, I can assure you no one has sent you an anonymous death threat today.” The End
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