Simile can be a powerful tool in making a good story a great story. Think back to some of the most impactful and memorable stories you have ever read. There’s a moment in ever great piece of writing when something ordinary becomes unforgettable. A face isn’t just sad, it’s like the sky before the storm. A town isn’t just quiet, it’s like a church after the last hymn fades. That transformation is the work of the simple but powerful tool of the simile.

For both new and experienced writers, mastering the simile is less about decoration and more about precision. If done well, it sharpens the emotion and meaning of your scene and makes your readers feel what you mean instead of just showing them. It’s like bridging a gap between your meaning and their imagination.

A simile simply compares one thing to another using the word “like” or “as.” Its function is a lot more powerful. Its real function is translation. It can take something abstract (grief, tension, loneliness) and anchors it in something your reader can understand. Instead of telling the reader what it is, you show them what it feels like. That is a powerful hook! Take some time to study some of the greats in classic literature who mastered this art. Hemingway and Steinbeck. Faulkner and Fitzgerald. Take a fresh perspective to a book by one of your favorite authors and I’m guessing you’ll find this being used more than you realized.

Readers don’t experience our stories directly. They experience it through their memories and the simile activates that. Steinbeck compared a man’s anger to a tractor engine in The Grapes of Wrath. Stephen King often uses simile to compare things to everyday pop culture to related to his readers.

Appalachian writers bring something very unique and distinct to the use of simile. We bring a deep connection to a place. We bring our history and oral traditions to the table. Let your simile’s reflect your roots. That’s where originality lives. 

There is a subtle power in stories that are rooted in a specific area or place. Regional writing is sometimes dismissed as “small.” It’s sometimes considered too local or too particular. Sometimes it is considered to be too bound in a landscape. However, the truth is the opposite. The more grounded a story is in real voices, real histories, and real soil, the more widely acceptable it can become. Writing “local” is the lens through which we understand the human condition and that has been experience through countless books written over the ages.
 
Regional writing matters. Nowhere is this more evident than right here in Appalachia. It matters for several reasons. These mountains are not just a scenic backdrop to a story. They shape our faith, our music, our speech, and our memories. To write “Appalachian” is to write about endurance, beauty, resilience, humor, and a complicated love of home. Regional writing doesn’t shrink our Appalachian world. It enlarges it.
 
Stories carried down by oral tradition are important specifically in our region. Literature preserves those voices that might otherwise fade over time. When we are able to catch dialect, family lore, and our shared and lived experiences on the page, they project something larger than just a single narrative. They project our identity. Rgional writing preserves our cultural memory.
 
This might be reaching back before my time, but if you’ve read the book River of Earth by James Still (1940), you will get a sense of how our cultural memories are captured perfectly in our craft. It portrays a coal mining family in eastern Kentucky that goes through hard times but shows their dignity and restraint. I’ll not spoil the book because it is certainly worth reading. The author didn’t sensationalize poverty like many tend to do. He didn’t romanticize hardship. There is certainly nothing romantic about it, in fact. He wrote with an intimacy and respect that should be recognized by Appalachian writers. In my opinion, his book is an authentic portrait of Appalachian life.
 
A lesson from this book should be how regional writing like this resists the typical Appalachian caricature and tells the story from the inside.
 
Regional writing also should challenge stereotypes. Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier is a good example of this. For decades, our region (on the grand scale) has been misunderstood. Our culture and way of life get flattened into headlines or reduced to one-line descriptions in the media. Good regional literature should offer a pushback, just like Frazier did in Cold Mountain. His story grounded in one region reached readers everywhere.
 
What else should good regional writing accomplish? Well, it should elevate the lives of ordinary people in specific places. It creates dialogue and demands attention. It should also tap into the deep emotions of these ordinary lives because emotions are universal. We have an advantage over writers that aren’t from here that write about us. We know the deep particulars of our region. We know the names of our creeks and hollers; we understand the rhythm of speech. We know and feel how the fog settles in a holler or the sounds and feel of sitting in a rocking chair on the porch at dusk. We see how the sun peeks over the mountain at sunrise and we feel the mountain mist on our skin and smell the pine in the air in the spring.
We understand the themes of Appalachia: love of family, fear of loss and failure, the pull between leaving and staying, the ache of economic hardship from generation to generation, and the longing for dignity in the mountains. These themes resonate everywhere.
 
We live in a time of digital sameness. I wish I could find the words to describe these days better. It takes regional writing to ground us as writers, and to ground readers from that sameness that creeps into modern literature more and more. Regional writing matters now more than ever. It reminds of that geography can still shape identity. It encourages writers to pay attention to their own soil, wherever that soil may be.
 
For groups like our Appalachian Authors Guild, regional writing isn’t about exclusion, nor should it ever be. It’s about stewardship. It’s about cultivating stories that rise from these mountains, from our families, our hopes and dreams, our history, and offering them to the wider world to feel along with us. When we write courageously from that point of honesty and detail, we do more than tell a story. We preserve a culture. We prove that local is never small.

Two things are certain in the life of a writer from around these parts. The first is that the mountains have always been storytellers. It might be a romantic view of Appalachia but it doesn’t make it less true. The second is that one of the best ways to craft a story idea is to simply start with a writing prompt. Our own Linda Hoagland has preached that lesson to us for years at out monthly meetings.
Long before we ever put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboards), these ridges and hollers carried voices across time. Family stories were passed across kitchen tables, songs rising from front porches echoed, and memories were stitched into the land itself. To write about Appalachia is not only to describe a place. It is to listen to it.
Appalachian writer Silas House has often spoken about how place is inseparable from identity. That the land shapes the people and the people shape the stories. That very relationship is a gift to writers. The mountains give us endless starting points such as mystery, endurance, beauty, isolation, humor, and fierce love of home.
If you’re looking for a way into a new piece of writing, let the landscape guide you. Below are a few writing prompts inspired by Appalachian terrain and spirit. There are no rules here — just doorways. Walk through whichever one calls to you.
Prompt: A thick mountain fog rolls in so fast and unexpected that erases the road ahead. While walking through it your character hears a voice calling their name. It’s a voice that they recognize from a long time ago. Who is calling? And why now? Let the fog blur the line between the past and the present.
Prompt: There’s an old house sitting where the forest begins. No one in town can agree on who built it or why is was left abandoned. One evening a light appears in the upstairs window. Who lit it and what do they want? Write from the perspective of someone who has lived close by for their entire life.
*Place is memory and place is story. This is often echoed in the work of Appalachian writers who understand that the land hold history and keeps score.
Prompt: I remember the last Five and Dime in Virginia. It was owned by my friend’s grandfather. For this prompt, the final (pick a unique store to your town) store in a small mountain town is closing after 100 years. On the last day people come not just to shop, but to remember. Write a series of scenes that take place inside the store over the course of that final day. Focus on familiar objects, smell, overheard conversations.
*Ron Rash has written about Appalachia with a deep sense of time layered over the place. The feeling that every location contains the lives that passed through it.
Prompt: Your character has always been told not to climb a certain peak near where he lives. The old folks say the mountain is alive. Not in a metaphorical way, but in a literal one. It is aware. One day your character(s) decides to go anyway. Describe the climb. What changes along the way? What does the mountain know about them?
Prompt: Your character writes a letter while sitting on a porch overlooking a valley at dusk. The letter is to someone they lost either through distance, death, or time. The mountains hold memories they cannot say out loud. Write the letter in full.
*Theme—the tension between staying rooted and being pulled away. This is a classic theme in Appalachian literature.
Share your prompts with the guild. We would love to share a few of them here online.

Two Years, 100+ Prompts, and a Whole Lot of Growth
A little over two years ago, I did something small that ended up changing everything about my writing life: I committed to a weekly writing-prompt challenge. Just one prompt a week. No pressure beyond showing up. Just be creative on the page, no editing, no judgement. Looking back now, I can honestly say it completely transformed me as a writer. And maybe even as a person. Over two years, 100+ prompts and a whole lot of growth! Honestly, I didn’t think it would last past a few weeks but here we are and still going strong.
There are some very important things I’ve taken away from the Writing Prompt Challenge. If you take up the challenge I know you’ll get the same benefits that I did and I hope you’ll take up the challenge with a couple of friends. If you’re a writer that’s been spinning your wheels for a while, now is the time to start growing. Here’s what I got from this challenge.
I Built Solid Writing Habits
There’s something magical about repetition. Week after week, sitting down to write became less of a chore and more of a ritual. Eventually the blank page stopped feeling intimidating. When writing becomes a habit instead of a “someday” goal, your creative muscles strengthen faster than you’d ever imagine.
Even on the weeks when life got complicated, that little prompt held me accountable — and taught me that consistency beats inspiration every time.
My Creativity Expanded in Ways I Never Expected
I never realized how much room there was to grow. Seriously! I had been a member of a writer’s guild for years and already had 10 or more self-published books under my belt. (All of them on Amazon. Go buy one!) The prompts pushed me to write outside my comfort zone. Weird ideas, strange worlds, unexpected characters — none of it was off-limits. I had to stretch. I had to experiment.
Suddenly, I found myself thinking more deeply about storycraft than I ever had before: pacing, theme, emotional resonance. And once you open that door, you can’t help but push your own boundaries. I’ve saved every prompt from the beginning to track the changes in character development over time. I also came to a quick realization as to how important a back story is! For a well developed short story they are almost a requirement.
I Learned About Myself Along the Way
Some prompts forced me to dig deeper. I found myself tapping into fears I’ve avoided and some I’d forgotten about, insecurities, old memories — things I hadn’t thought about in years!
I didn’t expect that.
But exploring those emotions made my writing feel more honest. I still hold back a lot in regards to this. There is a book idea I’ve had for years but fear has kept me away from getting started. However, the writing prompt challenge helped me to give my characters real depth and vulnerability. And in the process, I discovered more about who I am, too.
I Became More Thoughtful About Character Traits
Every prompt demanded a different angle, a different emotional flavor.
Resilience. Despair. Hope. Those traits became more than just labels. They turned into living, breathing parts of the story. I found myself reflecting on how people respond to hardship, joy, and loss. How one trait can shape an entire narrative. That reflection naturally led me into stronger themes. I wasn’t just telling stories… I was exploring ideas.
I Experimented — A Lot
Different genres. Different voices. Different character types.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But every attempt taught me something.
And somewhere in the middle of all that experimentation, I began to notice it happening: My own unique style. It didn’t show up all at once. It developed slowly, like a photograph in a darkroom. But now, heading into year three, I can point to a piece of writing and think, “Yeah. That’s mine.”
This is why you need to take the writing prompt challenge.
If you’re reading this wondering whether it’s worth it… I promise you, it is.
Here’s what you’ll gain:
More discipline
Stronger storytelling instincts
The ability to write even when you’re not inspired
A deeper understanding of your characters — and yourself
Dramatically improved writing skills
And if you do this challenge alongside other writers?
***You’ll find something priceless: community.
Writers often feel isolated. We create worlds alone, behind screens or notebooks. But sharing prompts, stories, and feedback connects us in a way nothing else does. That camaraderie is fuel.
Take Up the Challenge
One prompt. Every week. That’s it.
You don’t need permission.
You don’t need to be “good enough.”
You just need to start.
Two years from now, you’ll be blown away by how far you’ve come — and who you’ve become. So, grab a prompt. Write something. And see where the journey leads you.
I’ll be cheering you on.

By JC Schweingrouber
For many Appalachian writers, the mountains aren’t just a backdrop. They’re a living, breathing presence in their books and stories. All the things of beauty we experience day to day and season to season in these mountains are not just settings, they are often times characters in their own right. The ridges and hollows, our winding back roads, the morning mist that clings to the mountains and valleys. Writing with a strong sense of place means dropping your readers into a world that feels authentic and rooted. In Appalachian literature, that world is often steeped in deep generational ties, rich local culture, and the push and pull of the beauty and hardships that defines life in these mountains. The hardships that define our lives.
Capturing that sense of place goes beyond naming a town or describing the landscape. It involves conjuring up a mood and memory. For example, how a rusted coal tipple smells after the rain, or the sound of a whip-poor-will echoing off a hollow at dusk. The sound of rain on the tin roof. It’s about showing how the setting shapes the characters and their values, their speech, their choices. In Appalachia, place may be inseparable from the people you are writing about. A story set in these hills should reflect that deep connection, showing how the land leaves its mark on everyone who calls it home.
One powerful technique is to let your setting influence the rhythm and tone of your story. A slow, reflective chapter or paragraph might mirror the quiet stillness of a foggy morning at South Holston Lake or on the Appalachian Trail. A shorter scene might echo the intense sharp turns of a mountain road.  Even dialogue can be used to ground the reader in place, through the gentle cadence of local dialects or the use of regional expressions. We’ve often been reminded of that cadence by Jesse Graves and his poetry. When used with care these elements make your work more authentic without leaning on caricature or stereotype.
Whether you’re writing memoir, fiction, or poetry, grounding your work in the Appalachian landscape gives it roots. Your stories become part of a larger tradition. It becomes part of a chorus of voices that preserve the unique beauty, complexity, and resilience of this region. Writing with a sense of place isn’t just about setting a scene. It’s about honoring where we come from and inviting others to understand it, one story at a time. 

The AAG is filled with talented writers and storytellers. Nearly every month, we have a presentation or workshop to help those that attend to hone their craft and improve their work. It takes time, patience, and dedication for sure. However, I have noticed a few themes that have been in the workshops and presentations over the years that helped me to answer an important question that I have had since joining the guild. What makes a story or book an “Appalachian” story or book? What makes a writer an “Appalachian” writer?
 
An Appalachian writer can be any writer from the region, or even someone from outside of the region that writes fiction or non-fiction about Appalachia. That’s the easy part of the question. But to break down what an Appalachian story is can be a bit more difficult. The themes of fiction works, other than having the setting in the region, are very telling to the authenticity of an Appalachian story. 
 

Folks from all over the country share many of the same traits and desires and issues that we face here in the mountains. But when a writer hits a chord on the themes unique to our region, that really makes a story stand out as Appalachian. One of the main characteristics is a strong sense of place. The mountains, hollers, rivers, small towns—these are almost always a character themselves. When a writer can paint a picture on the page of the beauty and isolation of the region and how that shapes the lives of the people in the story, then you have the beginnings of an amazing story. 
 
The themes of struggle and resilience in the backdrop of these small towns and mountains pull at the heartstrings of readers. Although any place can have stories of hardship, poverty and economic struggles, when you put in the backdrop of this place (such as coal mining towns, factory closures, and generational poverty), a unique story akin to this place can unfold. That leads to other themes of survival, self-sufficiency, and perseverance that reach every reader.  
 
Appalachian stories will often focus on family and community. Family and kinship ties are central and often span multiple generations. There is also the importance of deep loyalty to family, the land, and tradition that you will find throughout stories from many Appalachian writers. 
 

Appalachia is also a place full of folklore and legends. Not surprisingly you will find countless writers focusing on Appalachian ghost tales and stories of haints. How many stories have you read about witches, haints, and holler creatures that take place in Appalachia. In fact, you can find countless episodes of paranormal shows on television that dive into the oral tradition of storytelling about infamous Appalachian places such as Ghost Town Village in North Carolina, the West Virginia Penitentiary, or the monster of Green River near Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.  There is even said to be haunted parts of the Appalachian Trail. 
 
When you toss in the dialect of the region, along with deep religious and spiritual undertones, you have hit nearly every characteristic of an Appalachian story. Not all Appalachian writers will write Appalachian stories. In my experience, less than half write stories that are unique to this region. But it is always an experience and a pleasure when you find an Appalachian story that speaks to you. 
 
From Cormac McCarthy to Silas Hill. From Lee Smith to Barbara Kingslover. From Addie Davis to Jessee Graves. From Steven James to…well, you. Appalachian authors come in many variations. If you haven’t written anything that is unique to your town or the mountains surrounding you, then maybe it’s time to give it a try. I’m up for the challenge if you are.
​

Writing a story, a poem, or a novel can be daunting. In fact, if you hold yourself to an
unreasonable standard such as comparing yourself with your favorite author, then being a writer
can sometimes be soul crushing. Chrissie Anderson Peters joined us at our monthly meeting in
Abingdon this week and discussed the topic of Battling Imposter Syndrome. What is the
Impostor Syndrome? Chrissie explained it as the feeling of not measuring up to being called a
writer or an author. It is when we feel like we aren’t good enough or creative enough and not
worthy of finishing our work or selling it to the public. We’ve all experienced this. We feel like a
fraud, like a phony, and afraid that the world will find out.
​
When we feel like this, it can lead to depression, but it can also be a major cause of writer’s
block and procrastination. Chrissie explained the five types of people that experience the
Imposter Syndrome. Those are:

 The Perfectionist: The writer that keeps going back and revising and editing over
and over, and never finishing their book.
 The Super Human: The writer that thinks that they are not qualified because they
aren’t good enough.
 The Natural Genius: The person who doesn’t feel like they are smart enough and
gives up because they aren’t a genius in the subject material of style of writing
they are working in.
 The Soloist: The writer that insists on doing everything themselves because they
think that if they ask for help, then they aren’t good enough to be writing in the
first place.
 The Expert: This kind of writer compares themselves to their writing heroes. For
example, if I don’t write like F. Scott Fitzgerald, then I’m not a real author.

It is difficult to get over the hurdles that we set for ourselves, but Chrissie came with advice to
help writers move forward with their work. Of the fifteen points of advice, the main focus was to
believe that you are a writer! Tell yourself over and over that you are a writer and that you have
the talent you need to write. She also stressed the importance of recognizing your achievements.
Even if you haven’t been published, recognizing that you have a story to tell and that you’ve
written something is much more that most wannabe writers will ever do.

To keep on track, she talked about the importance of setting measurable goals, having a never
give up attitude, and not letting people talk you out of following your passion for writing. It is
also important to designate a writing space for yourself, even if it is just the spot at the end of the
couch. Also, comparing yourself with others is completely unnecessary. It only serves to
frustrate you and damage your confidence. Also, if you are a new writer you should not expect
too much too soon. Give yourself a lengthy grace period. Great writing takes a lot of practice and
patience. During the process of your writing, make sure to give yourself daily affirmations.

*Chrissie Peters is the author of Dog Days and Dragonflies, Running From Crazy, and Blue
Ridge Christmas.

No one can deny that Ernest Hemingway was one of America’s most iconic authors of the 20th century. He was as renowned for his writing habits as he was for his literary genius. His works, such as For Whom the Bells Tolls, The Old Man and the Sea and The Sun Also Rises are marked by their concise, powerful prose. But what were his writing habits and what can we take away from them to help improve our own habits?

A Strict Routine
Hemingway believed in the power of routine. He usually began his writing day around 6 a.m. Getting an early start allowed him to work in the quietest part of the day, free from distractions. He often wrote until noon, or sometimes earlier if he felt he had accomplished enough. This rigorous schedule helped him maintain a consistent output without burning out.
In his own words, Hemingway emphasized the importance of stopping when the writing was going well. This strategy, he believed, made it easier to pick up where he left off the next day. "The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day...you will never be stuck."

Setting Word Count Goals
Hemingway set himself a daily word count goal, typically aiming for 500 to 1,000 words. This target was ambitious yet achievable, ensuring steady progress on his manuscripts. He recorded his daily word counts on a chart to keep himself accountable and motivated.

The Importance of Editing
Known for his often described economical style, Hemingway was a relentless editor of his own work. He famously declared, "The first draft of anything is shit," reflecting his belief in the necessity of thorough revision. Hemingway's editing process often involved multiple rewrites, with each draft being pared down to its essential elements. His goal was to achieve clarity and precision, stripping away any superfluous language.

Writing Standing Up
Hemingway preferred to write standing up, a habit he developed due to a knee injury. He arranged his writing space to accommodate this preference, with a typewriter positioned on a high shelf. This setup not only alleviated physical discomfort but also kept him alert and focused.

Control Your Environment
Hemingway’s writing environment was carefully curated to minimize distractions. He often wrote in isolation, whether in his homes in Key West, Cuba, or Idaho, or during his travels. He believed in the importance of a quiet, dedicated workspace, where he could immerse himself fully in his writing.
His experiences and surroundings deeply influenced his work. Hemingway drew extensively from his own life, infusing his fiction with his adventures as a journalist, soldier, and sportsman. The authenticity of his settings and characters often stemmed from his firsthand experiences, whether it was the bullfights in Spain, the fishing expeditions in Cuba, or the battlefields of World War I and II.

Mental Preparation and Discipline
Hemingway insisted on putting great emphasis on mental preparation. He approached writing with the discipline of an athlete, believing that mental readiness was crucial for creative work. He often spent the last moments before falling asleep thinking about his work in progress, allowing his subconscious mind to work on the story overnight. This practice helped him wake up ready to write, with ideas and scenes already formed in his mind.

His Unique Minimalist Style
Central to Hemingway’s writing habits was his commitment to a minimalist style. Influenced by his background in journalism, he favored short sentences and direct language. This “iceberg theory” of writing, where the deeper meaning is implied rather than overtly stated, became a hallmark of his work. You can see it throughout all of his work. Hemingway’s focus on brevity and subtext required meticulous attention to each word and sentence. Every element of his writing served a purpose.

*Ernest Hemingway’s writing habits were characterized by a disciplined routine, clear goals, and a relentless pursuit of simplicity and precision. His methods, from his early morning writing sessions to his editing process, shaped his literary style and contributed to his success. By studying Hemingway’s approach to the craft, writers can understand valuable lessons on the importance of routine, discipline, and the art of revision.

During our monthly evening meetings via ZOOM (for those that can’t make it to the regular monthly daytime meetings), we have been regularly submitting samples of our work for peer review and critique. That has proven to be as helpful to the evening group as it has to those that meet at the monthly day meetings in Abingdon. Several of us have submitted short samples for discussion and review, and we have taken away some great suggestions and feedback to help us improve our writing.
 
“The monthly evening Zoom meetings are a source of laughter and encouragement, something lonely writers often miss.  Peer critiquing helps me see what I wrote, not what I thought I wrote.  This seems to be especially helpful when dealing with the past or the future.  My reader does not necessarily know what I assume, This becomes evident whether I am the writer or the critiquer.   These sessions are extremely helpful.”  Peggy Wolfe
 
“I would say that the Zoom format works well for a low-key, serious discussion about writing issues. It’s easy to share in these meetings.” Linda Dobkins
 
In recent meetings, we have had members presenting a range of topics such as the importance of book covers and illustrations, easy and inexpensive marketing, short story writing, and editing to name a few. The purpose of the evening meetings is to be a supplement for the monthly daytime meetings and to bring some value to the members of AAG and to help one another improve in our craft.

Taking part in meetings and workshops is paramount for authors because it helps us all improve our skills. Great writing not only communicates ideas clearly but it also captivates our readers and draws them into the worlds that we paint for them on each page. It is our goal as a guild to help each other convey emotions and themes with depth and nuance, building a strong connection with our readers no matter what genre we write in. Growing as a writer is a life-long process and periodic workshops and fellowship with other writers is important in that process.
 
We hope to see more folks at our day and evening zoom meetings in the coming months. In the meantime, keep up the great work!

*Evening ZOOM meetings held the 2nd Thursday of each month at 8 PM. Email Vicki Fletcher or JC Schweingrouber if you would like to be a part of that group. 

​The dawn of artificial intelligence is upon us. There is no denying it. At the time of this writing, Hollywood is on strike (writers and actors) because of their concern over the use of A.I. in the creative industries, specifically how it will impact the writing of movie scripts and the use of advanced technology to use enhanced images of actors in the future instead of using the actors themselves. A.I. certainly has made the folks in all forms of written entertainment worried.
 
On college campuses students are using ChatGPT. Students are using this technology to have their college papers written for them. Just my personal opinion, but this is a major step forward in the dumbing down of education in our country. For a monthly subscription, anyone can use ChatGPT to write their term papers, essays, work emails, marketing copy, and even financial reports. The list of what this technology is doing is growing by the day. Do you want a children’s story about gophers? Just tell ChatGPT to get on it and you’ll have your story in no time. So, will this technology replace writers and novelists, newspaper reporters, and online bloggers?
 
There are certainly pros and cons to this new technology. Writers need to be at the forefront of this discussion. Not only do we risk losing a lot of writing jobs to this technology in the business world (editing, copyediting, marketing, financial reporting, etc…) but we may risk having a non-human “entity” competing in the realm of human creativity. This discussion will only grow in the coming months and years, but I hope writers take the lead on this in the media and on their own blogs and websites.
 
On September 14th at 8 PM, our guild will be having its monthly night meeting via ZOOM. A few of us will be having this discussion and will record it for YouTube. I hope we can garner some interest in having at least a panel of six of us to delve into this issue. It’s a topic I know many in this guild would be interested in listening to.