
Stephanie Van Orman
Bio
I write novels like I am part-printer, part book factory, and a little girl running away with a balloon. I'm here as an experiment and I'm unsure if this is a place where I can fit in. We'll see.
Stories (116)
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Whenever You Want
Christina Witten placed the final double red lines at the end of the last column on her accounting exam. She flipped her test booklet to the front to make sure her student information was correct and then she gathered her things together. She felt a certain relief as she saw she was not the first person to finish the test and not anywhere near the last. It was comfortable for her to finish sometime in the middle. All her numbers matched, so it had to be good enough. She turned in her exam, swung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
Less Common Reasons for Writer's Block
I just read the most ridiculous article on writer’s block. It was so infuriating, I had to write something about how wrong the author of the article was. I have written 26 novels in 27 years. I know all about how to write something and how to keep it going. I can write like I’m eating green eggs and ham, it’s raining, and a goat is making eyes at me. Here are some alternative reasons why you have writer’s block.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Motivation
Negotiations with the Dead - Part Two
Dear Margaret Atwood, I used to visit my grandmother at one o'clock in the morning. When I would visit the area when my children were infants, I wouldn't have much time, so instead of sleeping the night before I left, I would go to her house and chat with her until three. She didn't mind. She said she didn't sleep. Visiting with her in those quiet hours has become one of my most precious memories. Instead of having a little tea party like I did in my last letter, this time, I'm visiting you at one o'clock in the morning. I haven't decided yet if we're still wearing our makeup or if our faces are very clean. I guess it depends on how much I want to hide who I really am.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Journal
Kiss of Tragedy
After Juliet called the Safewalk office, she stood in the foyer and waited for her escort. She wasn’t surprised when Seth showed up, but she was surprised by the girl he had with him. Why couldn’t he have come on his own? she wondered angrily.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
Kiss of Tragedy
Juliet arrived at the observatory a few minutes before midnight. It was early October. The weather was chilly, even though the first snow had not yet fallen. She had brought her winter coat as well as her toque to help fight the frigid wind. She didn’t know how long she would be able to sit outside since the observatory was not an enclosed space, but simply a gigantic telescope on top of one of the science buildings. However, the top floor had a comfortable heated room that led out onto the roof, so everyone was meeting there before staring in wonder at the moon.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
My Adventure in Red Satin
Every year, my husband has a work party before Christmas. It’s in a ballroom at a fancy hotel on the waterfront. I look on it as one of the events of the year and what I wear to it totally matters. When it comes to the dress I wear to such an event, I think of it with relatively the same feelings I have when I buy wrapping paper. As long as it’s shiny, it only has to last 15 minutes, so quality is not the main concern.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Styled
Negotiations with the Dead - Part One
Negotiating with the Dead - Part One Dear Margaret Atwood, I have begun reading your book Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing. I am far too shy to write to you or trouble you with the wonderings of my mind. I doubt you reading this would add anything to your day, but as I read I find that I very much want to reply to you like we were having tea and having a conversation. You say to me the words that you have written in the book and I reply in a way that is so quiet, you can't hear me and I can't interrupt you. I doubt my reflection on your thoughts would add anything to your great vault of knowledge and experience, but I'd like to dissect them more carefully.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction






