conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Real Mother about Washington, UCLA, Centrum with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: the author has studied fiction writing through courses at UCLA, Centrum, Flathead Authors in Montana, Port Townsend in Washington, and at the University of Iowa. She has worked in public relations in consumer electronics and video gaming for more than twenty years. She currently lives in Washington State.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Real Mother about Enough, Booklist with the genre: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: &#8220;Enough conflict, glamour, and intrigue to keep...fans happy.&#8221; (Booklist)
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Real Mother
  Tess was gazing at him steadily, and, abruptly, he stood. "Time to go, friends and neighbors. Duty calls." He turned to Carrie, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "I hope you weren't worried about interrupting us when you got here."
  Taken aback, half turned from Tess's unwavering gaze, Mack dragged a hand across his face, wiping away the expression that had crossed it, like a shadow. Tess would never be sure whether it had been chagrin, as she first thought, or a trick of the light, but something had been there, and Carrie had seen it, too. Puzzled, unable to sort out everything that was going on, Carrie went back to perch on the arm of her mother's chair, frowning slightly at Mack, putting her arm protectively around Tess's shoulders. She felt strangely grown up, her mother small and vulnerable inside the curve of her arm.
  When Tess gave a small nod, Carrie kissed her again and again. "Love you, love you," she said, and ran outside to the bus stop.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They were quiet again, and then they began talking about the time they had been apart. Sara talked about Abby's accident; her despair over Sean and, even worse, her giving in to him; Doug's gloom after his fake gallery show; Donna Soldana's lies and her besotted husband; and Carrie's published stories. "It doesn't look like a real magazine to me, but it could be one of those little, obscure ones, I can't be sure, and anyway I couldn't say anything; she is so excited."
  After a moment, she laughed slightly. "Such a catalog of dramatic events. I always thought we were so ordinary, but all this sounds like a heavy play, something Carrie might think up." After a minute, she said slowly, "I thought, each time, that I wasn't handling things well, I could have handled them better, but so much was happening, and it was all going by so fast, I couldn't reach out and stop it long enough to think about what was the best thing to do, or even what all my options might have been. I kept trying to feel in control, but I couldn't. That's the way I feel now; I can't even get home; such a simple thing, but I can't do anything about it." She shook her head. "There's just too much. As if we can't do anything about anything."
  The telephone rang. Reuben looked at his watch—ten o'clock—as he answered it. "Reuben, where's Sara?" Abby demanded.
  Sara looked at Reuben, but he had heard Abby's high, pleading voice, and was already calling, on another phone, the answering service for his car leasing company. "We can leave within an hour, and we'll drive straight through. I'm pretty sure we can be there by morning."
  Carrie hated the house without Sara in it. Actually, she didn't really hate it, because she loved it, but it wasn't the same house with Sara gone. All the rooms were big and hollow as if some giant took a beautiful apple and cored out all its insides, so the shape was still the same, but everything else was different, and she and Doug and Abby couldn't fill up the rooms no matter how much they ran around or talked as loud as they could. Someday she'd write a story about it, she thought, it would have tension, and her teacher said she was good at that.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: They were quiet again, and then they began talking about the time they had been apart. Sara talked about Abby's accident; her despair over Sean and, even worse, her giving in to him; Doug's gloom after his fake gallery show; Donna Soldana's lies and her besotted husband; and Carrie's published stories. "It doesn't look like a real magazine to me, but it could be one of those little, obscure ones, I can't be sure, and anyway I couldn't say anything; she is so excited."
  After a moment, she laughed slightly. "Such a catalog of dramatic events. I always thought we were so ordinary, but all this sounds like a heavy play, something Carrie might think up." After a minute, she said slowly, "I thought, each time, that I wasn't handling things well, I could have handled them better, but so much was happening, and it was all going by so fast, I couldn't reach out and stop it long enough to think about what was the best thing to do, or even what all my options might have been. I kept trying to feel in control, but I couldn't. That's the way I feel now; I can't even get home; such a simple thing, but I can't do anything about it." She shook her head. "There's just too much. As if we can't do anything about anything."
  The telephone rang. Reuben looked at his watch—ten o'clock—as he answered it. "Reuben, where's Sara?" Abby demanded.
  Sara looked at Reuben, but he had heard Abby's high, pleading voice, and was already calling, on another phone, the answering service for his car leasing company. "We can leave within an hour, and we'll drive straight through. I'm pretty sure we can be there by morning."
  Carrie hated the house without Sara in it. Actually, she didn't really hate it, because she loved it, but it wasn't the same house with Sara gone. All the rooms were big and hollow as if some giant took a beautiful apple and cored out all its insides, so the shape was still the same, but everything else was different, and she and Doug and Abby couldn't fill up the rooms no matter how much they ran around or talked as loud as they could.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Sara and Reuben exchanged a swift glance, reminded yet again of how different their marriage would be from that of a young couple striding into the future with private, unedited plans. "Reuben and I will visit her," she said with a smile. "You stay out of this one."
  They stood together, Abby and Carrie leaning against them, Doug heavy on Reuben's arm, almost asleep, and, over the heads of the children, they kissed. It was too soon to begin to absorb all that had happened and all that lay ahead; they still were shaken by the too-recent fears for the children, and then the destruction of Sara's house.
  The loss of a house, Sara thought, and the discovery of a family. So much that impacted their lives, that would somehow become part of what lay ahead of them: discoveries and adjustments, triumphs and joys, troubles and sadness. But it will be all right, she thought, it will be wonderful. Because we'll all be together and we'll control what we can in our lives, and what we can't control we'll try to understand.
  Swift images came and went of the past six months, of the people and events that had seemed overwhelming, from Donna Soldana's lies to the loss of their house. We do what we can, she thought again: control what we can, influence what we can, and try to incorporate the rest into our days and years in ways that make sense, or at least help us shape our lives.
  She remembered that despairing moment when she had said to Reuben, There's just too much...we can't do anything about anything, and he had responded, I can't believe that. Perhaps, together, as a family, they could help each other truly discover all they could do, all they could become, how to connect with what was best and right for them and be a part of the larger world, influencing it in their own ways.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "Reuben and I will visit her," she said with a smile. "You stay out of this one."
  They stood together, Abby and Carrie leaning against them, Doug heavy on Reuben's arm, almost asleep, and, over the heads of the children, they kissed. It was too soon to begin to absorb all that had happened and all that lay ahead; they still were shaken by the too-recent fears for the children, and then the destruction of Sara's house.
  The loss of a house, Sara thought, and the discovery of a family. So much that impacted their lives, that would somehow become part of what lay ahead of them: discoveries and adjustments, triumphs and joys, troubles and sadness. But it will be all right, she thought, it will be wonderful. Because we'll all be together and we'll control what we can in our lives, and what we can't control we'll try to understand.
  Swift images came and went of the past six months, of the people and events that had seemed overwhelming, from Donna Soldana's lies to the loss of their house. We do what we can, she thought again: control what we can, influence what we can, and try to incorporate the rest into our days and years in ways that make sense, or at least help us shape our lives.
  She remembered that despairing moment when she had said to Reuben, There's just too much...we can't do anything about anything, and he had responded, I can't believe that. Perhaps, together, as a family, they could help each other truly discover all they could do, all they could become, how to connect with what was best and right for them and be a part of the larger world, influencing it in their own ways.