November Newsletter 2026

*My vision of June Faust, the main character of The Admiral Inn series. Graphite sketch by AJ Alanson*

AJ’S EDITOR’S DESK

October saw the end of 12-book arc in The Admiral Inn series. I typed THE END exactly once in the six years I’ve been writing a month-by-month year in the life of a retired Treasury agent turned innkeeper. I don’t think I’ll miss the characters because I can’t see anyway they could ever leave me after a million words. Besides, I’m starting to record the audiobooks so we’ll be together for a while longer.

WHAT’S NEWS?

Over this last year, I’ve been traveling a good hour to participate in an writer’s group held in New Haven, CT, once per month. I started in January and, what with winter weather and prior engagements, I’ve made it down to Connecticut Book Festivals Sneak Peak about four times. I’ve long participated in online writer’s critiques but there is something special about being there, watching the author read their own work, and the opportunity to ask questions.

*Stopped in my tracks when I stepped out my front door. Photography by AJ Alanson*

This group is wildly varied, from children’s book authors, to breathtaking poets, horror, screenwriters, fantasy, and autobiographies. I come away inspired, stunned, and often, wrung out from the intensity of the evening.

Perhaps more than ever, I crave people-watching in the round. Not the phone, the screen, the TV romcom. Admittedly, I’ve written a lot in the last years which, by its nature, means I’ve been locked away from real humans, so perhaps it’s a reaction to being an author, but I think there’s more to it.

I think, in this current world, it’s about connection, not simply to other people, but to the passage of time. The ticks, quirks, behind the scenes, the making of the sausage we thought we didn’t want to see. We want to see, because in a time when “art” is instantaneous, music can be produced in thirty seconds, and an entire book in spit out in a few minutes, our human creations, now more than ever, embody, capture and preserve time. And for humans, time is our most precious treasure.

The summer winds down, the frost has finished the gardens, and the holiday season is gearing up. Here’s hoping you find time to sit under the changing maples with friends before winter sets in.

FACTS OF FICTION – Chris Chiller, Researcher

A bent wire becomes a protest icon. (more)

In a companion piece, Keith Reid writes: Remembrance

A WELL-SEASONED STORY DISPATCH – Chris Chiller Essayist

Wondering how we got to this divided now? Again? I explore the non-political reasons for the divisions, citing peer-review research in psychology, neurology and genetics and salting in my experiences, anecdotes, and interviews. Join me at my website and blog: https://chrischiller.com for exploration and discussion.

A dusty print on a cloth chair from my work pants.

FROM THE VAULT – AJ Alanson

In honor of the midterm elections, I’m sharing my essay on, well, voting, or not voting, as it were. But crisis averted and my return to the polling station for early voting went off without a hitch. Enjoy “The Violence of Paperwork: How I Became a G.” https://ajalanson.com/2026/08/18/the-violence-of-paperwork-how-i-became-a-g/

ENTERTAINMENT SECTION

Upcoming EVENTS

A Widow in the Warehouse has a release date! November 15th, book 12 in The Admiral Inn Series with complete the series.

Look for it on Amazon with holiday bundles.

THE GRACE NOTES – music in the earbuds

Listening to Roger James Kuhns on Spotify, especially: Oceans in My Eyes

And I wrote a new jazz tune, Mandy of the Bluest Moon. Here’s a snippet:

VERSE 2: Mandy walks the tidal pools, whole universes in the swirls, reflecting truths, reflecting fools. Windswept across her face blinding her eyes to what she already knows.

CHORUS: Rare as honest ivory, pure as placer gold. Trapped in amber…Mandy, of the bluest moon.

QUOTES FROM THE CAST

– Book#12, A Widow in the Warehouse:

Chewing, Helene studied June. After she swallowed, a crooked sneer tugged at her mouth. “That’s it? You care to explain?”

When June couldn’t find the words to start, Helene slapped her knee and looked around the room, saying, “You know what this old coal room would be good for?” She pointed toward the door. “I’ll go get a foldin’ chair and a light bulb I can swing from the ceilin’.”

A snort escaped June’s lips. Helene wasn’t going to leave this alone. “Okay, okay, I’ll talk.”