Tag: LocalAuthor

Margerumalia – The Ol’ Snip and Clip

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – July 31, 2026

We were surprised!

We started putting out the animal traps to catch the kittens and send them to the Humane Shelter, but Tommy (the tomcat) decided he’d like a bite of that kitten food and walked right into the cage on the porch.

Clang! The door slammed shut when he put his weight on that metal plate.

Tommy is practically identical to Tabitha, the older mama cat, and resembles Rocket as well. He’d been hanging around again and had taken to standing in the driveway singing the blues. The “Baby Daddy Blues,” that is. Most of the kittens look like him so we assumed he was the father of them all. Maybe the father of Rocket, and Tabitha as well.

Cats don’t have qualms about incest or other human mores.

Tommy didn’t go quietly. He hissed and thrashed about. He even scraped his left eyebrow—if you zoom in you can see the blood.

Poor guy just wanted a bite of food. Among other treats.

Tommy would come within a few feet of me when I sat and petted Rocket on the front porch, but dashed away when I stood up. He shared food bowls with the kittens as well, no bullying or manspreading.

Now he’s off to get snipped and clipped.

They’ll neuter him so he stops adding to the wild cat population and then clip one of his ears so anyone will know that he’s been fixed. The fellow from Animal Control told me that the shelter will try to find him a home, maybe in someone’s home, maybe as a barn cat for chasing rodents. If not, they’ll release him in the neighborhood where he was caught.

Meanwhile, on the back deck, Shadow walked into a different, smaller trap. His siblings scattered but Rocket watched me with wide eyes as I picked up the cage and took him inside. Shadow was terrified and huddled in the cat carrier we set up in the basement bathroom.

Here he is huddled among the towels:

You see the worried look on his face? Heartbreaking.

He spent two nights crying from about 4:00 AM to 6:00 AM. The second night I went down there at 5:00 and just sat with him. He was fine with getting petted, but the challenge was reaching him in the back of the cat carrier.

We sent Shadow to the shelter shortly after that. I fell a little bit in love with that sweet kitten, but knew we had to say goodbye. I’m sure he’ll get adopted very quickly.

Tabitha and her trio hightailed it to the woods when Tommy began his mating song, and Rocket took her remaining four kittens away right after seeing Shadow brought inside. We can’t catch the any more if they’re not around.

It’s too, too quiet around here.

TTFN

* * * * *

Quick update: these two kittens of Tabitha’s walked into cages on Tuesday morning. Moth, the tabby with a brown patch on her forehead, and Smokey, the black kitten almost identical to Shadow. If you’re keeping track of the genealogy, these two would be Shadow’s aunt and uncle (or two uncles or two aunts, I didn’t go poking around in their privates).

The fact that both mama cats had litters of tabbies with one black cat is further argument that Tommy is the Baby Daddy of both litters.

We were glad to see them cuddling together for comfort. I’m afraid the third one will have to brave it out like Shadow did.

* * * * *

My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Girl Dads

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – July 24, 2026

I was reading a post on Substack the other day when another short play started germinating in my mind. While I was on my morning walk I started writing it in my head.

The Substack author, Sasha Brown-Worsham, described an incident that happened to her 19-year-old daughter. She was at the beach with her friends when they walked off to get food and she was suddenly alone. 

An older man took the opportunity to approach her, started asking uncomfortable questions and wouldn’t leave her alone. When a dad in his 40’s saw what was happening, he approached her like an old friend and successfully deflected the advances of the other man.

Later, the daughter told her mother that she and her friends have a name for men like that: Girl Dads. Men who quietly steer other men away from a girl who doesn’t want the attention nor the expectations that go with it.

While walking, I came upon a young 20-something who was taking pictures of plants at the edge of the path. I could tell she was aware of my approach, and I wanted to put her at ease so I pointed to her phone and said “My wife has an app she uses to identify wild plants she wants to learn the names of.”

Her face lit up and she returned my smile showing me her phone. “I do, too!”

“Those are great.” I said cheerfully, and continued on.

Later, when I saw her again we exchanged waves and smiles.

My short play now begins with that young woman taking a picture of a plant when the unwanted stranger approaches. I currently have him in my script as “CREEP,” but I’ll have to come up with an actual character name. 

Unlike my normal process, I’ve written a page of dialogue for when GIRL DAD gets involved and prevents CREEP from making further advances. I’m not sure how CREEP operates and tries to manipulate GIRL, but pretty soon I’ll have to strip down and step into that godawful bog to figure out what he’ll say and do.

That’ll probably alter the lines I’ve written already, but it think that’ll feel like a deep cleaning and I’m totally up for that!

I replied to Brown-Worsham’s post with my intent to write a three-hander 10-Minute play, adding “I like to think the arts can set a trend to normalize this kind of heroism.”

It can be a high bar, but I now belong to a playwrights group and I intend to get their valuable input once it’s in good shape.

TTFN

* * * * *

Speaking of the playwrights group, I promised to let you know how the evening of five-minute play readings went last week (A Fugesberg Fourth). I thought it went very well and was pleased that my play got laughs in all the right places. The other plays did, too, and I’m sure the playwrights were happy with the readings.

I also got to enjoy the company of many people from Civic Theatre who had been involved in the Short Play Festival a couple of weeks ago. Three of them responded to the offer to join the Greater Lafayette Playwrights Group and our little cabal of creatives continues to grow. I love that.

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – A Fuguesburg Fourth

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – July 17, 2026

I was invited to join the Greater Lafayette Playwrights last month just as the group was planning an evening of short play staged readings around the fictional small town of Fuguesburg. (Aptly pronounced FEW-guess-burg for our presentation.)

A menu of possible scenarios had been created for the playwrights to dabble in, from the initial parade, to the fireworks finale, and the dozen or so playwrights called dibs on a corner of small town life. This would give the audience a chance to see the residents of Fuguesburg from several angles. I chose the dessert table where the townsfolk were placing their themed creations to be judged and awarded.

I told Debbie that I felt like I had been given the chance to join a writer’s room for a sitcom or a sketch comedy like SNL. We offered up our ideas for a bunch of different scenarios, and we got the chance to make reference to the subject of other’s short plays. In improv or music, this is called riffing on an idea. Not ripping off an idea, but building on a theme by referring to themes of others. It’s a fun way to get the creative juices flowing!

My short play “Just Desserts,” for example, makes reference to the annual Miss Fuguesburg contest. Knowing that Neil was going to write about that event, I asked him if it would be okay to include a reference to last year’s winner, and I told him my idea for a joke about the men at the kissing booth. One doesn’t want to hijack a kissing booth joke from the playwright who’d created the event in the first place. I got the okay and went from there.

I also had my characters gossip about Mayor Maynott’s DWI and checked with the playwright who had written a welcoming speech to to the townsfolk which clearly shows him as corrupt and rather dodgy about following the law. This, too, was given the thumbs-up. That playwright also gave me the mayor’s correct first name as opposed to the one I had invented for that little tidbit.

Other playwrights got in on that kind of collaboration and the result will be an interwoven story with plenty of comedy and several tender moments that are quite endearing.

By the time you see this newsletter the free performance of staged readings will have been given two days ago, but I promise to let you know how it went.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Tabitha’s Meows

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – July 10, 2026

I was walking down the street for my morning walk and there’s Tabitha sitting in the road in front of our neighbor’s house.

That’s an odd thing to do, I thought. Tabby, the street smart cat who avoids all human contact, who skulks under shrubs, and vanishes into the ravine on a moment’s notice. What’s she doing in the street?

I coaxed her back to the house and she followed along the edge of the house under the bushes, no surprise there, and settled on to the front porch to eat the cat food I had out.

Soon after she left, I met her in the street again where she sat and meowed. She’s not a very vocal cat so I was completely baffled by her behavior.

When Debbie came back from the gym, Tabby turned in the street and stood in the way of the Highlander, still meowing at me.

What’s the fuss Tabitha? What’s up with you? 

Debbie rolled down her window, saying, “It’s like she wants you to follow her.” 

So I did, and she led me up the neighbor’s driveway. (I’m currently watching over their house while they’re away, so no worries about trespassing.)

She led me down the side yard and stopped at the porch step where two kittens emerged from the hastas and settled in to nurse.

I sent pictures to Debbie exclaiming TWO KITTENS!

Finally, weeks after first seeing Rocket’s six kittens, Tabitha was showing us two more! (Rocket was also part of a two-cat litter.)

I got a few pictures of them nursing and her cleaning them before I continued my morning walk. 

On the trail I met a friend who wanted to see the photos and I immediately showed her this photo of Tabitha lying on the step nursing her two kittens:

“Three,” my friend corrected me. “I see two tabbies and one black cat.” 

I had to count ears and tails before I believed her. Where had the third one come from? It’s like she appeared by magic! 

Go back and look at the picture of Tabitha cleaning her kittens, then look at the back edge of the step. 

I’ll wait.

Did you see that little eye peeking out of the corner by the plants? Kitten number three.

Both mama cats have been coming by for food recently but we haven’t seen the kittens for days. We trust they’re well, but if were going to catch them, they have to come visit again.

That’s a story for another day.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Playfest Performances

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – July 3, 2026

This credit and photo was on the screen in the Civic Theatre lobby and on the projection screen inside the theatre before the show began. Each of eleven short plays had one.

The Playfest Weekend went very well and I can report that opening night was one of the biggest audiences seen in 14 years of Playfest. That’s especially good news because it’s a Civic Theatre fund raiser. 

About “Out of the Abyss” specifically, I’m so proud of my actors and so pleased to hear many people in the lobby tell me that our play was their favorite. On closing night Debbie and I heard sniffles behind us and during the scene change I glanced over my shoulder to see a man wiping his eyes.

“Me, too,” I thought. “Me, too.”

I saw all of the plays grow tighter and more adept in their delivery throughout the last rehearsals and performances. Actors will tell you that audience response teaches them about the meaning of the play and how to deliver the lines. The comedies become funnier, the dramas become more stirring, and the light and sound changes flow without hesitation.

Highlighting a couple of moments from “Out of the Abyss,” there was a split second Hannah created for her character in which she assumed the pose of the Statue of Liberty. I took a screenshot of it from the video that Debbie made.

In every performance I heard an audible response from the audience when they realized the significance of her pose. It was brief but very effective.

My favorite moment for LH was around a line that I added at the first rehearsal. It was “I have…a dream.” He delivered it with such power, such force, and he knew exactly how long to pause for the ellipsis. It also evoked reactions from the audience that I can only describe as explosive.

Someone I went to high school with caught me after opening night and took my hands, saying, “You told my story!” When she saw my confusion she clarified passionately, “I’m a social worker just like her: helping one person at a time.”

I’m so glad I got that right. She felt seen, and wanted to get together later to tell me more. I agreed, happily.

Authors don’t always get direct feedback from their writing, but as the playwright and the director of this short play, I got to feel the impact of my words.

I’m grateful.

My actors got together and gave me a gift so I asked them if I could share the words they wrote inside the book. They said that would be fine.

This slim 80-page book by Walter Isaacson is already on the Bestseller list and I used a portion of that Greatest Sentence in my play. The one that begins “We hold these truths  to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…”

Hannah and LH know that I’ve submitted this play to another play festival in Florida called Kaleidoscope. I told them that requirements for submission included naming two or three emotions that the play evokes. I decided on DESPAIR and HOPE and told them on the night of the final dress rehearsal for additional inspiration.

Their eyes lit up with those words and thus the underline of HOPE above.

I’ve also submitted the play to a publisher who wants a collection of short plays that are specifically science fiction. Mine qualifies because of its dystopian setting. 

It’ll be months before I hear back from either.

Meanwhile I’ll submit to other festivals and keep on writing.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Opening Night

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 26, 2026

By the time you read this on Friday, it’ll be opening night of the Short Playfest at Greater Lafayette Civic Theatre.

Hearts are beating a little faster. Palms are moist. Everyone has wished one another to “Break a leg.” And then it’s lights up. Show time! 

Fun fact:

I was told for years that the good luck wish to break a leg was just a bit of reverse psychology. To say “Good Luck” outright would be bad luck. Then I heard that the expression was something said by understudies looking for their opportunity to take the stage.

Later, I heard something much more plausible. 

The curtains across the top of a standard proscenium stage are called teasers, they hide the lighting instruments from the view of the audience. The curtains on the sides that hide actors waiting in the wings are called legs, because they fall from the teasers down to the floor when hung properly. 

Back in the days of vaudeville—a live variety show—the performers only got money if their act was among those chosen. In order to go on stage, you had to break past the “barrier” of the legs. Break a leg and you get paid. No starving artist tonight. Now that’s good luck!

I still have yet to hear if that’s the definitive origin of the expression but I find it the most satisfying so I’m sticking with it.

My cast is very on top of the lines and the characters, and they’re deeply dedicated to the passion of the story. I told them I was blessed with a dream cast and they quickly returned the compliment. Not surprising for three people who were in tears on the first read-through.

I’ll be attending all three shows. I’d feel so out of it if I didn’t. It’s probably the actor in me who learned decades ago that “the show must go on.”

Go ahead, tell us to break a leg.

TTFN

* * * * *

I had to share another kitten picture with you because the variety of colors is so interesting and rather beautiful.

On the lower left side you can see the edge of the window well cover I installed last month that the whole litter is now using as a slide. There’s also a second kitten down there, slightly out of focus but the tabby markings are a giveaway.

I have more photos and a video I plan to post on both BlueSky and Substack (margerumeric in both cases). 

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can also subscribe to get Margerumalia in your INBOX by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – Kittens!

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 19, 2026

About two months ago I promised pictures of kittens in two months. The little darlings arrived on schedule!

I was sitting on the welcome mat at the front door like I do every morning, petting Rocket while she eats, when a cute little face peered out at me from the plants.

“Debbie,” I hissed in a stage whisper, “Kittens!” She heard me from the kitchen window and checked the opposite end of the house to see more.

I went inside to get a bowl of kitten food and we waited by the windows to take photos and videos of their antics. My favorite was when the little imps jumped up onto the window well covers I had installed last month, using them like slides in a playground.

We eventually counted six of them, five tabbies—like their mother—and one black kitten. One of the tabbies has white ears and white fur between the black stripes. The other four are indistinguishable from one another.

You can just barely see the difference in the photo below. The dim light under the bushes makes it difficult to see.

Look at that cute furry face! Can you resist the impulse to touch those soft paws? Shall we reserve one for you?

Last year we sent five kittens to the Humane Society. We were glad to learn that they were all adopted.

My story does take a turn, though. The kittens showed up on a Thursday morning and we spent two days replenishing their food bowls, giving them fresh water, and taking more pictures.

On Friday night at ten o’clock there was a terrible cat howl from the front steps and I raced to the door, flicked on the lights, and stepped onto the porch. All was quiet but I could barely see an animal circling the bushes in front of the house.

Was it Rocket? A predator? Maybe a pesky raccoon looking for a bite of cat food? We’ll never know. 

The next morning I petted Rocket on the welcome mat but didn’t see any kittens. I asked her about what had happened but she didn’t have an answer.

Then from the shadows of the bushes I spied the little black kitten who had a few things to say. His mother replied and I moved the bowl of kitten food toward the edge of the deck. The little fellah decided to brave my presence, having seen me pet his mother, and jumped up to eat. After a few seconds I moved my petting hand over to the kitten and petted him for about a minute solid.

I can’t tell you how amazing that was. Kittens born in the wild are not inclined to trust people but he saw the lay of the land and figured if it was good enough for Mama it was good enough for him. 

Since he was watching from the shadows, I decided his name was Shadow.

Since that morning, only Rocket has arrived at our front step to enjoy a bowl of food, fresh water, and a good dose of affection. We figured that she led the litter back into the ravine where they were born. Hopefully their need to eat more kitten food will bring them back soon.

Stay tuned!

TTFN

* * * * *

If you were wondering why the June 12th Margerumalia didn’t appear in your INBOX until later in the day, there were two reasons. 

First, I accidentally set the delivery for PM instead of AM.

Second, I couldn’t fix the problem because a storm took out the internet service for a large part of the county. Metronet got it up and running early in the afternoon and I sent it out then.

Apologies for my role in the delay.

* * * * *

My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – Deirdre’s Dreadful Day

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 12, 2026

A mother deer and her fawn—who I’m calling Deirdre—paid a visit to our neighbor’s backyard on Saturday, unaware of what the day had in store for them.

Deirdre was probably a newborn, one day old at most. She walked with a knock-kneed wobbly gait like the endearing animation of Bambi that Disney artists created for the 1942 movie.

Her mother relaxed in the shade, laying down in the cool grasses while her daughter explored the yard. Deirdre found many interesting scents and tasted a variety of plants with a nibble here and a nibble there.

The mother kept an eye on Deirdre as she trotted playfully between the houses and played in the border garden alongside the screened-in porch.

That was when the neighbors across the street pulled into their driveway and a big black dog jumped out of their SUV. Deirdre’s mother high-tailed it out of there, running in the opposite direction and down into the ravine.

The dog ran playfully around the yard across the street and had no idea there were any deer nearby. The neighbors called to their dog and the family went inside together.

Deirdre had no idea of what had just happened and continued to explore the long grasses alongside the porch. When she realized that her mother was no longer nearby she settled down to wait for her return.

Several hours passed and dark clouds approached from the horizon. The thunder rumbled in long deep drumrolls before the downpour began.

Poor Deirdre had never seen or heard this kind of weather and she dashed into our front yard, running chaotically around the trees, bucking like a bronco and braying with fear. She was scared out of her wits. 

The rain fell heavily and Deirdre eventually took shelter by the side of the porch next door where the eaves and long grasses afforded her some semblance of safety.

She slept and waited for her mother’s return.

Six hours. Eight hours. Ten hours, and no sign of Mama.

Deirdre stood up occasionally and stretched but never left her little nest. That was a good thing, too, because another thunderstorm passed through later in the day sending down pebble-sized hailstones. The two houses protected her from getting pelted.

As we checked on Deirdre through the bedroom windows, I couldn’t help but think of guardian angels watching over us as we endure the hardships of life. If only she knew we were there and keeping an eye on her, maybe she would find some comfort in that.

We were aware that stepping outside might send Deirdre running from the very spot where her mother could find her, but what if the mother was injured and couldn’t get back? Heavy rains have sent stormwater rushing dangerously through the ravine and have even brought a tree crashing down the hillside.

We continued our vigil.

Dusk fell and the mother did not return. At ten o’clock I held a flashlight to the window and could just make out Deirdre’s body in the darkness.

I wished her well and went to sleep.

At dawn I raised the blind and saw the empty spot where Deirdre had been sleeping. I had mixed feelings because I wasn’t sure if she had just bolted or if her mother had returned.

I glanced at the neighbor’s back yard and in the pale morning light I had my answer.

The graininess of the photo is due to the lack of light, but it shows Deirdre nursing. Finally, her well-earned meal. Her mother is looking in the direction of the house across the street, keeping a lookout for the big black dog.

All is safe now. All is well.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.

Margerumalia – All I’m Asking For…

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – June 5, 2026

Photo: Yahoo! Entertainment

RESPECT. 

Aretha Franklin sang about it in 1967. “All I’m asking is for a little respect.”

It still holds the title as Rolling Stone’s Greatest Song of All Time.

Country singer Morgan Wallen recently demonstrated his frustration over a piano malfunction by flipping it over on stage. It broke. Now no one can use it. What a waste.

It was a wooden upright piano like you might have in your living room. I know I did.

Watching that video, all I could think of was the many professional musicians who so treasured their instruments that they set up charities to give young people the opportunity to have even a fraction of the joy and creativity that they enjoyed. Music is a gift. Having the resources to buy a piano, a drum set, a trombone, or a violin, is precious.

Someone who doesn’t appreciate that doesn’t deserve to be appreciated.

In my opinion.

Imagine a sous chef destroying his expensive knife collection because one of them slipped and made a faulty cut. Imagine a famous writer throwing down her typewriter because one key got stuck. Imagine a soldier bashing their weapon against a tank because it misfired.

Later, someone posted a video of Taylor Swift who also sat at a malfunctioning upright piano. What did she do?

She opened the lid and fixed the problem. Then she continued with her concert. 

RESPECT.

I can respect that kind of musician. I could even have respected Wallen’s choice to sing the rest of the song a cappella, which he did. I think that was a classy move. But then he ruined it by going back and destroying an expensive instrument, flipping it over so no one could ever use it.

“Hurry up and break things” is NOT an admirable path to success. It’s just an irresponsible approach to life. It’s childish. I cannot respect that.

Take a look around the room where you’re reading this…or the coffee shop, or the studio, or the reading nook…and appreciate what you have in your life. Now think of the people you appreciate in your life. That carries all the hallmarks of R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

TTFN

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles

Margerumalia – The First Rehearsal

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – May 29, 2026

The first rehearsal usually begins with a “table read.” That’s exactly what it sounds like, the actors and director all sit around a table and read the script out loud for the first time. 

In a full length production, the table read might also include an assistant director, the stage manager, and possibly a dramaturg, costume designer, or choreographer among others. But “Out of the Abyss” is a short play in a festival of short plays so it was just the three of us. 

We also have limited access to rehearsal space so, for now, I’m making use of my membership in a co-working space where I can reserve meeting rooms to rehearse in. The meeting rooms all have one glass wall, but experienced actors are used to both accepting and ignoring distractions.

I gave some background to the inspiration of the play, which was Ray Bradbury’s “To the Chicago Abyss,” and the tone I was trying to achieve. They already intuited that tone and by the end of the read-through we were all in tears.

Keep in mind that the actors had never even met, but their instincts were spot on and they were entirely enrapt in the story. I told them as much while I tried to swallow back my emotions and I knew we were off to an exceptional start.

We moved the tables out of the way and began blocking the play. What side would Libby enter from? Did Sam absolutely have to sit on the floor? When she strikes him, how should that be staged?

Through discussion and following actor impulses we answered each of those questions and added a few additional moves that “just felt right.” Experienced actors and directors know that those feelings are always golden, and we followed them.

The actor playing Sam has bad knees that won’t allow him to sit on the floor and we agreed that a stage block—a two foot cube painted black—would be in keeping with the dystopian setting, especially if it was dented and battered.

We worked out all those blocking details about half a page at a time and then ran the play from beginning to end. Again—even with scripts in hand—we were choked up and the actors speculated that this will probably happen every time. 

I hope so, because that means they’re “in the moment” and not playing at the emotions. Of course, I’d like to see the audience equally moved. I’m pretty sure they will be.

Opening night is four weeks from the day this newsletter is posted.

TTFN

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If you received this email because it was forwarded to you by a subscriber, welcome. You can subscribe as well by following the link on my website: ericmargerum.com. A free story awaits you there.