Write On, Wednesday: Author Interview with Amy Fusselman of SAVAGE PARK (Jan, 2015)


By Leslie Lindsay

I’ll admit it: I hate to play. I think I am bad at it. It’s messy, it’s not always fun and many times it’s very abstract. So after reading Amy Fussleman’s SAVAGE PARK I realize I am not alone. At least from a parent/adult perspective. But not kids. And I now have a better grasp on how to worry less and play more.9780544303003_hres

We’re lucky enough to have Amy with us today to answer a few questions about her latest book, SAVAGE PARK: A Meditation on Play, Space, and Risk for Americans who are Nervous, Distracted, and Afraid to Die (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, January 13th 2015).

L.L.: Amy, thanks so much for hanging with us today. As I write this, my childrenages 9 and 7 are barking and squawking; they are creating a secret language which they may or may not recall or employ tomorrow. But they are having fun. And I have a moment to write. Which is my fun. Can you describe a bit about your process in writing SAVAGE PARK? Was it really inspired by a spontaneous invitation to Tokyo and subsequent jaunt to Hanegi Playpark?

Amy Fusselman: Thank you for having me, Leslie. Yes, the book was inspired by my trip to Tokyo and to the playpark. I knew I wanted to write something that paid homage to the space. That was my first intention.

L.L.: To be honest, I didnt care about tight-rope walking or banging sticks and nails together, swinging ape-style through a pi-shaped rope in Japan, or baby bath rings till I read SAVAGE PARK, but you *made* me want to care. How and what do you hope readers take away from your book?

Amy Fusselman: Thank you. The book is really meant to encourage and to inspire. I hope that readers find it moving. It’s not a prescription. It’s a book that asks “Why?”

L.L.: So if life is all about living in the moment, how do you explainor get aroundthe busy-ness that is our daily life; do we have to disregard the clock and calendar?

Amy Fusselman:  As fellow mom, I don’t have to tell you that disregarding the clock and the calendar is impossible. But the book is a meditation—and meditation is the practice of being present. One of my favorite things about Savage Park is that it doesn’t seek to add to anyone’s to-do list. It’s a book that I hope will encourage people to think differently.

L.L.: Many of our readers are in the throes of raising young kids. We want the best for them. We hope to give them experiences we never had. But we worry. We shout over our shoulder when we drop them off at school and playdates, Be good! Have fun! While secretly thinking, Dear God, please dont die. Can you speak to that?

Amy Fusselman: In some ways, isn’t it amazing that we ever say anything but “Please don’t die” to our kids? Having children is a risk on every level. For both parents, it’s making yourself open and vulnerable to tremendous fear and love. For mothers, it’s also a physical risk.

One thing I found very compelling about Hanegi Playwark was that it provided a model for a middle ground between those two poles—between “Please don’t die” and “Have fun.” I think that’s the hard part: finding the middle ground.

L.L.: So with all of your musings on parenthood and play, one would think you have a background in child psychology, but you dont. Youre just a mom, an editor, a writer, but you offer a great sounding board on the ways in which we go about life as parents and children. What advice would you give in todays parenting landscape?

Amy Fusselman: Yes, I am not an expert and I embrace that perspective. I write an occasional parenting column for McSweeney’s Internet Tendency called “Family Practice” and I write it as “Dr.” Amy Fusselman. I took on that “doctor” persona, in part, because of what felt to me like the tyranny of doctor/experts and their parenting manuals. So the short answer is that I have no expert parenting advice.

A longer answer is that right now I am very inspired by the work of child psychoanalyst D.W. Winnicott, who was, naturally, a pediatrician. His book, Playing and Reality is probably the most important book I have read as a parent although I am not sure it is a parenting book. I recommend that book to people.

L.L.: From reading SAVAGE PARK, your daughter, Katie is so very perceptive especially when she speaks of Norikos [the Japanese playpark curator] baby and her experience with SIDS. I was in complete awe with this little angel of yours. What is Katie like now, and how do you suppose she knew so much about that incident?

Amy Fusselman:I don’t think my kid is unusual. Unique, yes, as every person is, but not unusual. Children, especially very young children, are remarkably perceptive in ways that I think are generally dismissed. Maybe what’s unusual is that instead of dismissing that moment, I recorded it.

I think this is actually relevant to the issue of the playground. A playground that is not connected to the environment, that doesn’t offer a child any ability to change it, or to experience cause and effect, discourages the development of intuition and creativity in a way that seems to me to be pretty common in children’s lives today. Savage Park confronts this.

L.L.: And how is Noriko and her family doing now? What do they think of SAVAGE PARK?

Amy Fusselman:

Noriko gave the book her blessing. I would not have published it otherwise. She and her husband have a new baby girl. I hope they come to visit New York soon.

L.L.: What have I forgotten to ask, that I should have?

Amy Fusselman:

I don’t think you have missed anything! But I want to know: what is this secret language your kids are making up?!

L.L.: How can we learn more about you, about play in America and the Hanegi Playpark. What are some of your very favorite resources?

Amy Fusselman: The International Play Association (ipausa.org) is a fantastic resource. I also love Brian Sutton-Smith’s book, The Ambiguity of Play.

As for me, Savage Park is my third book; I do have other books out: The Pharmacists Mate and 8.

L.L: THANK YOU so much for being with us, Amy. Best wishes you and yours and thanks for allowing me to see play in a different way.

Amy Fusselman: Thank you, Leslie, I enjoyed it.

For More Information on Ms. Fusselman, her work and how to connect, please see:fusselman_amy

Website: www.amyfusselman.com/

Twitter: @AmyFusselman

Bio: Amy Fusselman is the author of The Pharmacist’s Mate and 8. As “doctor” Fussleman, she writes the Family Practice parenting column for McSweeny’s Internet Tendency. Her work has also appeared in the New York Times magazine, Ms., Hairpin, and ARTnews. She lives in New York City.

Write On, Wednesday: Interview with Amy Impellizzeri, Author of LEMONGRASS HOPE


By Leslie Lindsay

I’m thrilled to introduce you to a new book, a new author! One you’ve just GOT to read. Layout 1 (Page 1)

Amy  Impellizzeri is a debut author of LEMONGRASS HOPE, just the mere mention of the title slipping from my mouth makes me feel, well…nostalgic, hopeful; it exudes intrigue and evokes another time and place. Say it. Lemongrass Hope.

Before the book, Amy worked tirelessly as a corporate litigator. She now advocates for entrepreneurial women, and is at work on her next book, Lawyer Interrupted (due out in 2015) which takes non-fiction delve into the cutthroat world of corporate law. She’s also a mom and wife.

But back to Lemongrass Hope. Critically-acclaimed, it’s a mutilayered bittersweet romance that will leave you with perhaps more questions than answers. At the very least, it will have you questioning the power of fate, destiny, and second chances. Read my review here. [https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1073361165]

L.L.: Amy, thank you so very much for taking the time to be with us today. I have to say, I am reading Lemongrass Hope right now and it’s written in such a way that really propels me into the narrative. You write so effortlessly about women, wives, mothers…and it’s very relatable. If you were to compare your writing with other female authors, or books that take on some of the same themes, who might you feel most aligned with?

Amy Impellizzeri: Thank YOU! What a wonderful compliment. I read so many genres and writers, but I have to say that there are certain women writers – like Kelly Corrigan, Jojo Moyes, and Liane Moriarty – who write in such a way that I just know, if they lived down the street, we’d have coffee. Do you know what I mean?

And I LOVE the compliment that my story and writing are relatable, because the connections that I have made as a result of Lemongrass Hope are the very best parts of this entire journey.  

L.L. Let’s talk about the book a bit. So, I am reading and nodding my head. I get 4-year olds. I’ve so been in a coffee shop where my kids have wrecked havoc on the store, my nerves, and everything else. I’ve been to the beach with my kids and I’ve questioned past choices. Did you wake up one day and say, “hey—I’ve got to write about this?” How did Lemongrass Hope evolve?

Amy Impellizzeri: Oh, I love that. It’s funny, because all of those completely familiar, relatable scenes involving Kate’s kids might as well have happened to me too, although each one is truly fictional. Everyone asks about “The Question Game,” in particular and the truth is: I made it up. Just like I made up all of those scenes between Kate and her kids. But the “Question Game” is like a caricature of every frustratingly poignant car game/ “why”/ “I spy”/ “where’s waldo” game we’ve all played with our kids, and of course, it played well into the underlying themes of Lemongrass Hope.

The simple truth is that Lemongrass Hope evolved from an idea that came to me at a time in my life when I was really obsessed with second chances and roads not taken – mostly in my professional life. I had just taken what was supposed to be a one-year sabbatical from my 13-year corporate law gig, and I was re-evaluating the decisions I had made up to that point. I think my subconscious was working in overdrive at the time, because I had a surreal dream that ultimately led me to deciding to explore the theme in the context of a unique love story. And what I have found from the beautiful way the novel has been received is that – even more so than the coffee shop and beach scenes – this longing for and confusion about second chances and the decisions we do and do not make – are an almost universal human experience.

L.L. Let’s talk about the past. They say those who dwell on the past are depressed, the ones who think about the future are anxious, and the ones who live in the present are the ones who are truly happy. Can you speak to that and how it relates to Lemongrass Hope?

Amy Impellizzeri: Well, I think there is a little truth in all of that. But I’d like to think Lemongrass Hope explores my own feelings on the topic which include honoring the past, and hoping for the future while truly trying to live in the present.

L.L.: Looking at the structure of the book, you start off in third person, that is, everything is, “When Kate first met Benton…” and then we shift POVs towards the middle of the book to first person, “I asked myself again if I should trust this man I haven’t seen in fifteen years.” Was this intentional?

Amy Impellizzeri: Yes! Thanks for noticing and picking it up. In Part II, we shift to 1st person, which makes more sense in the context of the entire novel. Without giving too much away, I’ll just say that I very much wanted the reader to abruptly feel the change in Part II, and to feel that he/she had been an observer – along with Kate – in Part I.

L.L.: I understand you worked with beloved bestselling novelist Caroline Leavitt on the editing of Lemongrass Hope. She’s fantastic, I know because I’ve seeked out her services. Can you give us some highlights of working with her?

Amy Impellizzeri: That’s a great question. There are so many highlights. She is an amazing mentor and brilliant writer and I would scribble notes furiously every time she and I would talk about Lemongrass Hope, or anything else for that matter.

She was a fan of the book from the beginning and validated my hope that the idea for Lemongrass Hope was an original one – she even called it (and the ending) “spectacular.” So, I never really recovered from that, of course!

But she also made me do the work. She had me flesh out the character arcs for the principal characters, revise and revise until the structure of the book was clean and right. Caroline-as-editor is like your best teachers in high school – the ones who refuse to tell you the answer but who keep pushing you to find the answer on your own, and then celebrate right along with you at the end.        

L.L.: In fact, you penned this amazing essay for Ms. Leavitt’s blog, on the angst’s of a first-time novelist. I’m going to share it here.  I am so humbled by your humility and annoyance at writing, but also your tenacity. Can you touch on that a bit?

Amy Impellizzeri: That essay really draws from a time when I was as close as I had ever been to scrapping Lemongrass Hope – tossing the whole thing in the garbage. There was a structural glitch in the book that I couldn’t quite get right, that in hindsight, seems so obvious, but at the time, seemed insurmountable. And so when Caroline said, send me an essay for the Blog about “the writing,” I knew instantly what I would write.

For me, the writing is not the hard part. The putting it out there is the excruciating part. In this sense, being a “first-time novelist” has been equal parts daunting and exhilarating, but I am truly savoring every moment!

L.L.: I could probably ask questions all day about writing and the book, but we both have other tasks to tend to! One last thing—and maybe the most important—if you were stranded on an island, what book would you take to read, what would you want to eat over and over, and if you could write (assuming paper and pencil, laptop), what would you write about?

Amy Impellizzeri: Ok – now I’m daydreaming about peace and serenity on a desert island – bliss! (But not really, because I write best when life is swirling all around me.)

I would take Life of Pi, of course, because I could read that book over and over again – and it seems like the perfect “stranded-on-an-island” read!

I’m hoping I could find a “Jack’s Bar” on the island for perfect conch fritters and island beer, because that would be my dream diet, and besides, I’m not really all that good at fishing and foraging!

And I would write the next novel that is swirling around in my brain – which I think is about nature versus nurture and the way that even though we are all connected, we don’t always need to use that connection as a crutch … we can break free from all that connectedness, if we truly want to. A desert island seems the perfect place to explore that theme!

L.L: Thanks so much for being with us, Amy!!


Amy Impellizzeri is a reformed corporate litigator and author. In 2009, she left corporate law to write and advocate for women entrepreneurs, joining the executive team of an investor-backed startup company, ShopFunder LLC (formerly Hybrid Her, named one of ForbesWoman’s top websites for women in 2010 and 2011).Amy’s debut novel, Lemongrass Hope (Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing, 2014) is an Amazon Best-Seller. Oprah’s very first Book Club Selection Author and NYT #1 Best-Selling Author, Jacquelyn Mitchard, has said “Lemongrass Hope is that fine and fresh thing – a truly new story …. Amy Impellizzeri is a bold and tender writer, who makes the impossible feel not only real, but strangely familiar.”Amy’s first non-fiction book, Lawyer Interrupted, is due out in 2015 (ABA Publishing), and her essays and articles have appeared in The Huffington Post, The Glass Hammer, Divine Caroline, and ABA’s Law Practice Today, among more.
Please, check out Amy’s links, get the book, and more:

Buy the book! http://www.amazon.com/Lemongrass-Hope-Amy-Impellizzeri/dp/1939288533

Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ImpellizzeriAmy

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmyImpellizzeri

Get updates on my website: www.amyimpellizzeri.com

Write On, Wednesday: Meet ebook Sensation Darcie Chan & THE MILL RIVER series


By Leslie Lindsay

Selling a whopping 700,000 eBook originals of her debut, THE MILL RIVER RECLUSE, Darcie Chan is a force to be reckoned with. She definitely has gumption and the tenacity an author in today’s market needs. Having read the first book, I was eager to jump back into the enchanting fictional world of Mill River Vermont, the very place that oozes kitchy charm and memorable characters; it’s like Mayberry come to life. Plus, it’s fall and who can resist a book with such a lovely autumnal cover?Redemption-cover-final_300

But there is more to Darcie Chan than meets the eye. She’s a mom, a wife, and former attorney. How does she do it all?

L.L.: Thanks so much for being with us today, Darcie! We busy writers would love to know how you balance all of life’s demands. Can you share how you managed to write two books, work, move, and have a baby? Wow. That’s like 4 of life’s “top stressors.”

Darcie Chan: It was a busy time, for sure, but perhaps not quite as busy as it might seem. I wrote my first novel in the early 2000s, ten years before I had my son, and put it in a drawer after it didn’t sell to a publisher. After that, it was pretty much just work and normal life until 2007, when I moved to New York with my husband. Our son came along in 2010, and in 2011, I uploaded my first novel as an e-book, which officially launched the insanity.

I suppose I got through the crazy years of 2011 through 2013 by juggling as best I could, taking things in stride, and focusing on getting things done. Leaving my attorney position in March 2012 helped decrease my stress level, certainly. It was a tough thing to do, because I loved my office and my legal job, but I still believe it was the right decision. Also, the changes in my life at the time were mostly happy and exciting, so I always felt more like I was riding a roller coaster than digging myself out of a hole.

L.L.: Tell us a little about how you created and envisioned Mill River Vermont? I understand there is some basis of a real-life town and “recluse” in a small town located in Indiana. Can you expand on that?

Darcie Chan: I grew up in small towns in several states, so I knew that I wanted a cozy, friendly small town as the setting for the first novels I planned to write. I tried to model my characters and the appearance of the town after the places in which I’d lived or visited while growing up. I didn’t base the fictional village of Mill River on any one particular town, though, because I wanted to be able to create and modify aspects of it to fit the story I was trying to tell. And, I selected Vermont as the state in which Mill River would be located because that state (in addition to being the home of countless beautiful small towns and villages) has a unique and longstanding town meeting tradition. Every town in Vermont holds a town meeting on the first Tuesday in March where residents come together to vote on town business. An annual town meeting was the perfect place for Father O’Brien to address the people of Mill River at the end of the novel.

Recluse-Jacket_300It’s true that the character of Mary McAllister and the central story idea for The Mill River Recluse do have a real-life origin. The basic concept for the book was inspired by a certain gentleman named Sol Strauss who lived in Paoli, Indiana, the small town in which I lived during high school and my mother was born and raised. Mr. Strauss, a Jewish man who fled Nazi Germany, operated a dry goods store in Paoli in the 1940s. Even though Mr. Strauss lived quietly alone above his shop and never seemed to be fully embraced by the town’s predominantly Christian population, he considered Paoli to be his adopted community. When he died, the town was shocked to learn that he had bequeathed to it substantial sum, which was to be used for charitable purposes to benefit the people of Paoli.

The Sol Strauss Fund is still in operation today, and Mr. Strauss is still remembered for his extreme generosity. I thought it would be very interesting to build a story around someone who is misunderstood or different in some way, and to show that even someone who is seemingly far-removed from his or her community may in fact be more special and integral than anyone could imagine.

L.L.: Both of your books have some pretty colorful characters. Is there one you feel a particular affinity toward? One who might share some of your personality?

Darcie Chan: I’m not sure that any of them share my personality, but I probably felt the strongest connection with Ivy Collard, a character in The Mill River Redemption, who shares many characteristics with my late maternal grandmother. “Nanny,” as everyone called her, was as loving and giving as Ivy, and she also shared her bawdy streak. Many of Ivy’s funny quotes are things I heard Nanny say countless times growing up.

L.L.: Lots of folks are interested in the self-publishing arena. There are so many ways to get our stories “out there,” more than ever before. What advice would you give to someone who wants to break into the e-publishing/self-publishing world? Traditional publishing?

Darcie Chan: Regardless of which avenue a writer chooses to pursue, I think the main thing he or she has to do is figure out a way to get his or her books to stand out from the millions of others out there. If you want to catch a reader’s attention, you need a quality product and a way (or several ways) to get the word out about your books. With those goals in mind:

  • Put your emotions into whatever you write. They’ll carry through to your readers, and that’s so important. Think of the last memorable book that you read. Did it make you laugh out loud? Break your heart? Feel terrified or angry? Chances are that it did at least one of those things. Readers remember books that move them emotionally and often recommend them to others. Those “word-of-mouth” recommendations are what create bestsellers.
  • Put on your editing cap. Do everything you can to polish your manuscript before you show it to anyone, and be tough on yourself. Read your writing aloud to yourself to hear how it flows, how realistic the dialogue sounds, etc. Research your subjects carefully, because there will almost always be readers out there who know more (much more!) than you do about them.
  • Seek out constructive criticism. Write for yourself, but gracefully accept as much constructive criticism as you are able to get. “Test readers” are so vital to my process because they’re not as close to the material as I am and can see areas in need of improvement that I miss. It’s much better to fix problems in a draft early on, before you send it on submission to an agent or publisher or self-publish it for all the world to see. As with anything, you get only one chance to make a first impression.
  • Social media is your friend. These days, increasing numbers of people buy and learn about new books online. It’s so important to have a strong social media presence, and that’s something I’m still working on myself! People won’t become interested in your book unless they hear about it, and the Internet is an amazing tool for spreading the word and getting word-of-mouth recommendations started for books,
  •  Believe in yourself and never give up! It’s true that trying to get a novel published is very difficult. Be prepared for that. Know that you will get many rejections, criticisms of your writing that you don’t understand or agree with, and an occasional mean-spirited note that cuts you to the core. Keep an open mind about the criticisms, as repeated mentions of the same issue might be signaling a problem with the manuscript. Other than that, keep your chin up and continue your quest for an agent and publisher. Keep writing while you’re waiting to hear from agents (or editors, when you find an agent to shop your manuscript). And, above all, always believe in yourself, never stop dreaming, and never give up!

 L.L.: Finally, can you tell us what you are working on next…and when it might be available.

Darcie Chan: The first draft of my third novel, which is also set in Mill River, is currently with my editor. I’m hopeful that it will be published in September 2015, but I don’t have a firm release date yet. Beyond that, I’m not sure what I’ll write next, but I’m working on ideas for other Mill River books, just in case I decide to go in that direction. Time will tell! :)

authorAnd Leslie, I’d just like to thank you for inviting me to do this interview. I truly appreciate it! :)

L.L.: Thank you so very much for taking the time to be with us, Darcie! We so enjoyed you.

For more information:

  • Darcie’s Website where you’ll find a blog, media kit, Q&A, book club information and more.
  • MILL RIVER REDEMPTION is available at Target and where books are sold!

Bio: Darcie Chan is the author of THE MILL RIVER RECLUSE, a debut novel that became a word-of-mouth e-book sensation. With nearly 700,000 copies sold, THE MILL RIVER RECLUSE appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists for 30 weeks and became a heartwarming favorite of readers across the country.

Darcie was born in Wisconsin and grew up in the small towns of Brandon, Wisconsin, La Junta and Cheraw, Colorado, and Paoli, Indiana. Thanks to loving and supportive parents who are both educators, she learned to read and write at an early age. She has two younger sisters, with whom she is very close.

Currently, Darcie lives just north of New York City with her husband and son. Her second novel, THE MILL RIVER REDEMPTION, is also set in the fictional town of Mill River, Vermont, and will be released by Ballantine Books on August 26, 2014.

[Special thanks to Susie Stagland and Darcie Chan. Author photo credit: Carrie Schechter]

Write On, Wednesday: Meet Thomas Christopher Greene of THE HEADMASTER’S WIFE


By Leslie Lindsay

It’s that time of year again. There’s a nip in the air, an excitement humming about campus, and perhaps the ivy is a little greener and a little more lush along those stone and brick buildings.

I am thrilled to welcome author—and president of Vermont College of Fine Arts—Thomas Christopher Greene—who prefers the less pretentious Tom—to our literary blog.

Having just read THE HEADMASTER’S WIFE (Thomas Dunne/St. Martin’s Press, 2014), the fourth of Greene’s novels, I have to say, this one blew me away. It’s part mystery, part literary academia, and part psych thriller. Definitely a blend of my favorite genres. What’s more, it takes place—in part—at a Vermont prep school.The Headmaster's Wife

Leslie Lindsay: Thank you for being with us today, Tom. I found THE HEADMASTER’S WIFE compulsively readable. While overall the prose is easy reading, the subtext is complex. We definitely get that ominous vibe that something is amiss. Well, okay—it is amiss. In the opening lines, our middle-aged headmaster is wandering around outside in the buff. Was this your intention all along, or, as many things with writing, did the narrative take a life of its own?

Thomas Christopher Greene: I often find the beginning of a novel after writing the first seventy pages or so six or seven times. It’s a horribly inefficient way to write but the only one I know. So in this case, I added that beginning after I had developed Arthur’s voice, and also the in between sections where he is being interviewed by the police.

Leslie Lindsay: Let’s talk about structure. It’s a big obsession of mine of late. You do a wonderful job of creating a sort of bifurcated narrative with framing the story along the lines of now—not now—now; tossed in for good measure are some scenes in which Arthur is being interrogated. The writing just seems to flow organically. But something tells me this was carefully thought out. Can you explain?

Thomas Christopher Greene:When I start a book, I spend a lot of time thinking and living with the characters in my head. Structure is critically important, in that it is the framework for how you tell the story. That said, this idea I came across by accident—I wrote the long first piece that is Arthur’s point of view and initially I thought the whole book would be told that way. But I knew I needed Elizabeth’s point of view and the conventional way to do it would be to alternate it with Arthur’s, which is often done. But then I came across the idea of essentially telling the same story—with different viewpoints, in, as you put it, a bifurcated narrative. And once I had that figured out, the rest of the structure took care of itself.

L.L.: THE HEADMASTER’S WIFE was born of personal tragedy and grief in your own life. Oh, I can only imagine the heartache of losing a precious young baby. Grief is a tricky thing, and yet you write about it so eloquently. What would you recommend to others who are attempting to write about grief without being stereotypical?

Thomas Christopher Greene: The great thing about fiction is that it allows writers to deliberately obfuscate a story in order to find a deeper truth. In this case, I didn’t actually have the resources—emotional, mental etc—to write about my own experience with losing our daughter. But I found that through characters I could write about the emotions and feelings I had, and there was enough distance, paradoxically, to allow a certain measure of honesty. I don’t know that there is any good advice I could give someone writing about grief, just as there is no blueprint for grief itself.

L.L.: Let’s shift over to the business of writing. What is your advice to aspiring novelists?

Thomas Christopher Greene:Read everything you can. Be thick-skinned because that will carry you. Trust your own vision. And come to Vermont College of Fine ArtsJ

L.L.: Can you tell us a little about the writing programs at your college?

Thomas Christopher Greene: We have two low-residency programs, one in writing (poetry, fiction, memoir) and one in writing for children and young adults. They are widely recognized as two of the top writing programs in the country. Next fall we are also starting our first full residency program in writing and publishing. Author Talks and Story Slam at VCFA Montpelier Vermont

L.L.: Can you share a bit about what you are working on next?

Thomas Christopher Greene: I’m writing a novel that for now is called SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW. It will be published by St. Martin’s Press hopefully in early 2016. It’s a story of a great unrequited love and what happens after a chance meeting on a Manhattan street.

L.L.: Finally, how can we learn more about you and your work?


and www.vcfa.edu

Thank you so very much for being here today! We so enjoyed.

My pleasure!

Thomas Christopher Greene

Thomas Christopher Greene was born and raised in Worcester, Massachusetts to Richard and Dolores Greene, the sixth of seven children. He was educated in Worcester public schools and then Suffield Academy in Suffield, Connecticut. He earned his BA in English from Hobart College in Geneva, New York, where he was the Milton Haight Turk Scholar. His MFA in Writing is from the former Vermont College. [book cover image and author image retrieved from www.thomaschristophergreene.com with author’s permission 10.01.14. College image retrieved from http://www.wherezit.com/listing_show.php?lid=423779 on 10.01.14]


By Leslie Lindsay (image source: www.alphabetart.com on 9.4.13)

When it comes to priorites, you could say Matt Wertz has them; he’s pretty driven.  You could also say the guy can belt out some tunes, resulting in a fantastic melding of melodies ripe for this era.  His new album, HEATWAVE was released yesterday, August 27th.  You may say Mother Nature was on his side.  Seems the nation is being swept with a heatwave–whether that is the acid-washed, jangly pop sounds of his new album, or the actual searing heat, but it’s fair to say the two events are a trippy coincidence. 

With tracks like Shine and Sunny Day, you may think Matt was channeling the giant star in the sky, but in reality the album isn’t inspired by any one event, person, or theme, but rather a general sound he was shooting for–that of the late 1980’s.  Think Richard Marx and Bryan Adams.  Think boom boxes (hey–weren’t those once called ghetto-blasters) and lace.  Matt admits that to get the sound he wanted he had to change the way he wrote songs, which was  bit challenging.  But the sound–and the feeling–these tracks evoke are positively epic. 

Although I did reach out to  Matt to provide a little piece on defining home, he graciously declined.  “Practice for tour is really eating up at lot of time, plus there are a slew of publicity events…” all of which I can completely appreciate. 

But I can tell you this:  Matt Wertz likes his Tennessean home, a 1920s-era bungalow  where he’s lived for the last twelve years writing, practicing, and entertaining.  In fact, there are several YouTube videos showing Matt doing just that (I adore the friendly banter between band-mates, and the acoustic sound is fantastic).  Take a peek into his life: the mindless ring game on the front porch (Matt indicates this is his favorite place  to unwind and let the new lyrics and sounds percolate–it’s also where he wrote new track, “Get to You”).  You’ll also glimpse the bike riding, the coffee gulping, and a peek at his ever-growing shoe collection in these videos. (He once wanted to design shoes for Nike).   www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsI6SmMwUnk

But there’s more:  be sure to read this Trib article from years past–same house, same musician, another little look inside the place he calls “home.”  http://www.chicagotribune.com/classified/realestate/chi-matt-wertz-snoop-1012oct12,0,3258691.story

In the meantime, be sure to pick up a copy of HEATWAVE, pop it in your computer, iPod, or cassette player (yes, there is a cassettee version) and see what writing inspiration you get from this number–I assure you, it’s a throw-back, and a good one at that!

So, Write on Wednesday! 


By Leslie Lindsay (image source: www.alphabetart.com 9.4.13)

How do we define home?  Is is an actual building?  The people we surround ourselves with, or is it tangible pieces of things that bring to mind the comfort and stability of home?  Today, we hear from author Amy Sue Nathan on just that:

“For me, home means things I can see and touch. Photos on shelves, pre-school artwork next to high school graduation pictures, a china platter that belonged to my grandmother that sits on the middle of the dining room table. Home is being surrounded by sights and sounds and also, by textures. I often sit with a crocheted blanket on my lap as I write. It’s made up of squares, and baby-size. My grandmother made it when my son was born almost twenty-two years ago.
Let’s face it, crocheted blankets can itch! I never put it on him as a baby, but it has follow us through five homes in five states. It hung over the back of the rocking chair in the nursery when my daughter was born too. And while it’s not the softest blanket in the world, it’s the best one I have. And I think as long as I have it with me, I’ll be home.”
For the sake of extending Amy’s concept of home, here’s an exercise to help you hone in on the things that remind you of home:
  • Close your eyes and drum up some of the items from your past that signifiy “home” to you.  For you me, it’s the water-logged Baby Beth doll I carried everywhere–even the bathtub.  There was also my imaginary friend, Jenn-Jenn, but also the antique dining room table, the old sewing machine, and the slanty part of my closet where I used to hide out and read. 
  • Now go a little deeper.  What were some to the items you held onto into your adolescence and college years?  Was there a particular item that went with you to your first apartment?  Was there an item that stayed with you for a season, only to let it go once you felt more comfortable, confident? 
  • How about your characters in your work-in-progress?  What do they hold onto?  An old key?  A diary?  A person?  A memory?  A book?  A photo?  Make a list for each of your characters, but especially your protagonist and antagonist.  It can be very telling what these “people” hold onto in various parts of their life.  Go ahead…what did your protagonist value when she was a child?  A teenager?  Young adult?  Adult?  Now, in your story?  Can you see a pattern 

[Exercise created by Leslie Lindsay] 

Special thanks to Amy Sue Nathan for sharing her lovely words about her son’s blanket.  For more information on Amy and her books, please see:

 Up Next Week on Write on, Wednesday: Memoirist Tanya Chernov talks about her place of home…at summer camp.
Till then, Write on, Wednesday! (image source: www.amazon.com 9.4.13)

Fiction Friday: Book Lady


By Leslie Lindsay Misc Feb-March 2013 012

They say writers should always be writing, coming up with ideas for the next one…and while we don’t jump ship and start right away on the next one (before finishing the current WIP),  it’s okay–encouraged even–to jot down a few lines, ideas, or whatever and keep it on hand. In that case, here’s a little something that “the boys in the basement” are working on while I pound out the first draft of NEXT DOOR.

“I will tell you how I read a book: First, I smooth my hands over the cover, seductively feeling for raised lettering, foil-lined font, the stretchy quality of matte finish, or the smooth luster of gloss. It’s always a better experience if the book is hardback with a jacket. Then I pinch the jacket between my thumb and forefinger, gingerly lifting the paper spine so I can glimpse the real cover, the bare bones that piece the individual pages together, often tied with the tiniest red and white flossing ribbon, or perhaps the binding of rubberized glue. In my mind, this is the cheap way to go, and often a slight disappointment if it is indeed how the book is manufactured.

I then thumb through the pages, taking notice of whether they are deckle-edged or straight-edged, mottled, gilded, organic, newsprint, slick. I fan the pages with my thumb, creating a rush of air unearthing the pleasant melding of ink and paper in an orgasmic release. I bury my nose in the spine and inhale.

Yet, sometimes, the book in question smells yeasty, musty, tart as if it has been stored on a shelf in the archives of a library for far too long. Perhaps, it’s been packed away in a cardboard box tucked into the storeroom at the bottom of the basement stairs of a grandmother’s home. The book is happy that it has found itself in my hands, delicately holding it, ready to fold back its cover, turn the pages, ready to be given new life.

I may begin with the first line. That’s nothing unusual, it is after all what most people do. Some read ferociously from cover to cover, barely looking up to engage in the world around. They forget to dress, to eat, to answer the phone. They forget who they are in the presence of. The characters take over, the story moves them into a new plane.

Others read for awhile, get bored, and place the book on a nightstand, coffee table, or cluttered kitchen counter. The book collects dust and stains from glasses left dripping condensation. If it’s a library book, the patron forgets to return it on time and incurs a fine. The book never gets read.

I read. Really read. After the first thirty pages, or so I flip to the acknowledgements section. I want to know whom the author wishes to thank; who was instrumental in the process of writing, and perhaps a little about who the author is will shine through. Authors almost always thank their literary agent, someone who helped with research, and their family. You can tell who has a spouse, a dog who shares the writing space, or a family. Reading the acknowledgements section is a must.

Still yet, I take special care not to read the last few pages of the story. There will be others who beg to differ. I once heard of someone who read the last line of every book she ever received straight away. That way, if she died before finishing, she’d know how it ended. I beg to differ. If an author does his or her job well, reading the last line won’t really give you all of the insight intended; it’s just a line. A book is made to be read in its entirety. Still, I refrain from reading it.

At this junction, I may choose to read the “about the author” blurb. It’s fascinating to learn if the author is local, or at least in the same state you are living. Maybe you share something in common: a middle initial, number of children, vacation destinations, or a hobby like knitting. Anne Author lives in Chicagoland with her black lab and husband. She enjoys vacationing in Cape Cod and practices yoga daily.

Right then, I know we have something in common. Not only am I reading Anne Author’s personal preferences of pets and hobbies, but I am reading each and every letter she pounded out on a keyboard, it doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”

Fiction Friday: Excerpt from NEXT DOOR


By Leslie Lindsay Ireland 2014 171

Where has the time gone?! Goodness, I can’t believe it’s nearly Thanksgiving…wasn’t it just August? What they say is true–finish one project [novel], start anovel. I mean, another. Go ahead and submit to agents, cross your fingers, and hope it all works out. But start the next one. You do this so you won’t go crazy thinking about the other one sort of floating around in no-man’s land wondering if others are going to love it as much as you do. And your hubby. And your dog, too because, after all she kept you company under your desk as you wrote the thing.

Well, it works. Time, once again has marched past and I have gotten lost in my next manuscript. This one has the working title of NEXT DOOR and is all about the things that happen behind closed doors, maybe the ones right next door, maybe the metaphorical ones that you just wonder about, maybe the doors that open into another world. It’s about maintaining the American Dream and family secrets and how sometimes it’s all about facades. Since late September I’ve made some major progress on this one. It may be the fastest 40,000+ words I’ve ever put onto paper. I’m not really sure what the drive has been, but I’m going to take what I can get cause you know there will come a time when I can’t get a darn thing out but a blank page. Maybe my name. Maybe, “the quick fox jumped over the lazy dog.” Or, “there will come a time when all good men must come to the aid of their country.” There will come a time, too that I think it’s all a pile of junk and wonder why I ever attempted another novel.

So that is where the time has gone. Here’s a little excerpt from NEXT DOOR:



My mother never liked to talk about her past. The copper-colored Camaro I saw her standing beside in a faded 4×4 photo was snapped from my fingers as quickly as it got there. Her high school yearbooks: forbidden. “Don’t you still have them,” I asked.

“Well, yes,” she sighed and looked to the window like all she wanted to do was escape, but all she did was complain that they were too hard to locate in the tangle of things that was our basement.

Once, I found a grocery sack filled with photo slides from the 1960s—mom as a teen on vacation to the Lake of the Ozarks, and once to Disneyland when she was a little younger. Her brother had tube socks pulled to his knees and her sister, a teal green tube top concealing her mosquito bite boobs. Guess it was all about tubular things back then. When I wielded the sack one Saturday afternoon, its contents spilled across the kitchen table. Mom rolled her eyes and in a cross voice said, “Where on earth did you find those?”yearbook_cosplay

“The spare room closet,” I replied. I held them to the light from the window, squinting to see. Mom stood near the stove, hands on her hips watching with slight distaste and nostalgia before skirting around to the table, a light brush on my shoulder.

“We can do better than that,” she said. Moments later, she dashed from the kitchen and thundered upstairs returning a few moments later with a torn cardboard box, the Kodak logo slapped on the side. I watched as she extracted a slide machine and plugged it into a wall outlet and flipped a switch. The machine projected a white patch on our green and white gingham kitchen wallpaper. “Close the curtains,” she instructed.

I jumped from my chair and pulled the tie-backs loose, allowing the ruffle-edged ivory curtains to fall, meeting in the center of the bay window. Mom flipped the light switch, darkening the kitchen.

She clicked through tinsel-laden Christmases, confetti-covered birthday parties with homemade Raggedy-Ann molded cakes, stair-stepped siblings on the first day of school. When we got to the slides of mom in a peach prom dress and pearlescent pink lips, she shut down.pretty amazing sight to see.


Sorry to burst your bubble, but the carousels that

“Wait! Who was that?” I ask, “He’s kind of good-looking.”

She pinched her mouth. “No one.”

“Oh, come on—he was someone. He took you to prom.”

Mom closes her eyes, “Evan. His name was—is—Evan Greenburg.”

“Well, whatever happened to him?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. We broke up. End of story.” Mom fiddles with the gold cross at her collarbone. “I think we’re done for today.”

My body lets loose, a small piece of me fallings, slipping deeper into the folds of her past, another clue as to who she is and who I am becoming.

You know how you can just tell that someone has lived a different life than they do now? That’s how it is with my mom. Before, she drove a Camaro. Now, it’s a Mercury station wagon with wood paneling and two bonus fold-out mini seats in the way back. “Kids,” she’ll say. “I had kids and needed another car.” She now wears long wool plaid skirts, a turtle neck, or a blouse buttoned to her neck and her hair pulled into side combs but I know she used to wear halter tops and Daisy Dukes. “Youth,” she told me once. “It will happen to you, too Mallory.”

Most curious of all is the drinking and smoking she does that she doesn’t think I know about. She’s an adult, so I guess she’s entitled. But the smoking is a source of contention, what with Grandpa’s throat cancer scare. She stands outside, out of view in the backyard between the cedar trees and garage taking puffs and then popping a mint Lifesaver in her mouth—as if that will erase the smell. In the cabinet above the refrigerator, an assortment of fine wines and hard liquor. I hear the cabinet open and a splash of amber liquid into shot glasses and mugs. I mean, what kind of Eucharistic minister chain-smokes Carltons and drinks Irish coffee before Sunday mass? One with a past, that’s who.

I found her high school yearbooks once. She wasn’t listed as being part of any clubs, though she claimed to have been in Future Homemakers of America and choir. I should’ve known—she can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Once, she told me she had been in speech and debate, but I think the only time she ever argued with success was with dad and that friend of his—Tom.

Instead, she was kind of a partier, I think. At least that’s what she said when I asked her about it later, “It was the sixties, Mal. It’s what we did.”

How could she explain High, Jo! Let’s get like a kite again. And wasn’t it fun that time at Mary Jane’s? I might go to Catholic school, but I am not dumb. There were inscriptions from boys with names like Glenn and Craig, Danny and Joel—“let’s go deep again.” At first, I thought maybe they had had some really philosophical questions, but then there was a crude little drawing of a penis that made my stomach turn. Now I understood, without a doubt why those yearbooks were “forbidden.”

I slammed them shut, a waft of mildew-y dust let loose, causing a sneeze. I shoved them back into the box I found them and tried to wipe the words from my mind.

If my mother wasn’t the goody-two-shoes choir girl with sites on becoming a homemaker, who was she?

A sea turtle, that’s what.

Sea turtle mamas come onto shore—typically at night—and carve a little hole into the sand with their flippers. They deposit a clutch of fifty to two hundred soft-shelled eggs, cover them up, and drift back into the sea.

Some human mothers are that way, too. They disappear emotionally almost as soon as they give birth. I don’t know what happened with my mom, but she seemed to shut-down. Not after my birth, not exactly, but after dad died. And if truth be told, she probably shut down way before that, but I never really noticed.

[This is an oiginal work of fiction. Please do not copy to share as your own. Comments welcomed. Yearbook image retrieved from http://www.klce.com/are-yearbooks-still-important/ on 11.20.14, and Kodak slide projector retrieved from http://yesteryearremembered.com/?p=2837 on 11.20.14]



Write On, Wednesday: Thursday, Friday…What Day Is It?!


By Leslie Lindsay

I am always amazed at how quickly the days tick by. Wasn’t it just Monday? I mean, really?  I stepped outside just now to get the mail and was greeted with a torrent of leaves swirling about my feet, creating little leaf- tornados and bitter cold temperatures. It might as well be December and not just days after Halloween. Don’t even get me started with the seasons. It’s true, the older one gets, the faster time goes. The busier one gets, time marches on. So I didn’t blog yesterday. And I don’t know if I can find the time tomorrow, either. Write On, Wednesday:  Creating a World So Believable Your Critique Partners Think You're Having an Affair

But I am writing. Oh yes I am. I read recently that writers really should focus on–oh, here’s a concept–writing. Okay, okay. You knew that. But there are so many other things that demand our time. Nope, it’s not the dog or the kids, the spouse or house. Although those things certainly add up. It’s also the social media monster that traps us. For example, I subscribe to Publisher’s Lunch and so I am scroll through (mostly trolling for agents who may be interested in my work), and boom–a few good books. So, of course I have to check them out, assess whether they would be something I’d want to read. Maybe I order them. Then I add them to GoodReads. Oh, while I am on GoodReads, I may as well review that one book I just read. See a theme?

It’s not that I can’t “focus” enough to write. That’s not the problem (though it does sort of sound like it). It’s just that I am so intrigued and impassioned about books, ideas, concepts…that I sometimes I mine the virtual shelves for other ideas, plot thickeners, that sort of thing. And then lo and behold, my time is gone.

And what to do I have to show for it? Sixteen new books on my to-read shelf.

But I am writing, too. This next one was begun on September 23rd. Kind of. It was the day of research that sparked some ideas. I know because I was getting new tires on the van and Firestone had free wi-fi. So far, I am proud to say the darn “new” book has a whopping 27,200 words. Not bad for 6 weeks. Still, I can’t seem to find all the time I want to really dig in. But I am doing it, slowly and surely at Starbucks when I can sneak a little research time to thumb through library books on themes in the novel, in the car while my daughter is at soccer practice, and in my brain while I lay half-awake, half-asleep in the middling hours between day and not-day.

In fact, that’s often when some of my best ideas come. Today, it was something about albino spiders. Weird, I know. I don’t like spiders (well, who does?) but they came into my head and I guess I gotta do something with that, right?!

Oh..and coming up next week, November 12th debut author, former litigator Amy Impellizzeri of LEMONGRASS HOPE (October 2014) joins us.

Write on, Wednesday!

Write On, Wednesday: What Drives YOU


Write on, Wednesday:  Decontrusting a NovelBy Leslie Lindsay

You know those slightly annoying, yet crazy fun time-waster quizzes that pop up on Facebook, ones like “what color is your aura” and “what animal were you in a past life?” Of course you do–you’ve guiltily clicked on them while looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching, completed the quiz and learned that, lo and behold you were a fun-loving optimistic dolphin in a previous lifetime and your aura is yellow, because you’re so freaking optimistic how could it be any other color but that of the blazing sun.

Have you come across the quiz entitled, “What Emotion Drives YOU?” I write this with a slight distaste and shrug only because shouldn’t we inherently know what drives us? Ah, the conumdrum.

So, I completed the 10 questions and the result: curiosity. Yep, I am driven by intrigue. I knew that. What writer isn’t? What psychologist isn’t? I write because I am curious. I study human behavior because I find it fascinating. And when one combines the two—human behavior and curiosity—an amazing thing happens in literature: your characters come alive. Writing is a means to explore all of those questions, moments of intrigue, and things you want to reach further into your psyche for.

Many folks will say that to be a writer, one must know a lot of things. That might be true to a certain extent. Being a writer doesn’t mean I have all of the inner workings of the human mind tightly locked into my brain or that I am particularly astute at human behavior, it just means that I observe it like nobody’s business. And it also means that if there is something I don’t understand 100%, I will look it up. In today’s standards, it is so much easier to be a curious writer than in days past. We have this lovely thing called the Internet.

I don’t know much about Victorian-era brothels. So, I turn to my good friend, Google for some answers. I really don’t know squat about college fraternities, either. But my trusted cohort of Facebook friends know a few things….or they can point me in the right direction for a little more. And how about single-occupant freak car accidents and the Mob in St.Louis? Was there a mob in St. Louis? Well, I am going to find out. And yeah…what about that older-than-dirt building that sits on the corner of Cherry and 9th Streets in Columbia, Missouri? (I do know it’s the oldest standing building in the college town, built in 1837 and once scheduled for demolishment in 2012—alas it has been saved).

And then there is weaving all of these little brain curiosities into a novel. Easy-peasy, right?

Le sigh.

I am a whopping 14,000 words into this novel and that’s pretty darn good considering I just finished the “other one” on Labor Day. But now, I feel a little stuck. La-di-da…I’m sort of sitting her twiddling my thumbs and thinking of a post-Thanksgiving retreat to my old college town in my home state of Missouri. You know, a little research.

The Tiger Hotel is supposedly haunted. And historic. Maybe I should book a room? Of course, there’s got to be a trip to the State Historical Society located at Ellis Library where I can look at old plat maps of Columbia in the late 1800s. I’ll do a few frat house drive-by, too. And while I am out that way, I just may swing into the rolling bluffs of Rocheport for a little winery action. Nah—scratch the Tiger Hotel, I’ll stay at the welcoming Yates House B&B where the food is mighty delicious. I’ll roll up my sleeves and do a little writing…and ghost hunting…and reminiscing with my hubby, who also knows a thing or two about MU

And in the meantime, I will continue to poke around on various websites and read some books, and look at old Savitar images on-line and re-read my Mizzou Alumni Magazine hoping for a little shove in the right (write) direction…because, you know…inquiring minds want to know.

[image of niedermeyer builing retrieved from  law.missouri.edu on 10.22.14]

Write On, Wednesday: A Day Late and a Dollar Short…but I have a Sandwich!


By Leslie Lindsay Ireland 2014 171

It’s Thursday, I know. Yesterday came and went in a blur and well, I didn’t get to my blog. Plus, the very busy and very kind Thomas Christopher Greene, author of 4–most recently THE HEADMASTER’S WIFE–was also living life in the blur and was unable to appear on the blog as promised. But never fear-for he plans to make an appearance next Wednesday, October 1st! Oh gosh–the cover of his book even *looks* like October! You’re in for a treat. Also, be on the look-out for interviews from Darcie Chan and her Mill River series.

In the meantime, I am happy to announce that I’ve completed, revised, and polished my most recent manuscript and will soon be in the process of submitting to literary agents. Yahoo! Fingers crossed someone loves the book and concept as much as I do. For more information on what I’ve been working on tirelessly for the last year, check out “Zombie Road” right here on the blog.

Okay. And for today, my 9 year old loves to give me ideas for my stories. What she doesn’t know is she inpires me all the time without doing much other than just being herself. She knows I am in serious brainstorming mode for the next one and so whipped up this uh…sandwich: the art of story writing. I love the first part: get a “peace” of paper and start brainstorming ideas….add some lettuce (“ledece”) which says, “When you are ready, you can start thinking of your characters, setting, problem, arch emeny.” Okay…and then you plop a piece of meat down (beginning, middle, and end.) and then “write ‘the end,’ add some pictures, and come up with a great title.”

I had to smile–and give the kid a giant hug–I mean, seriously–‘arch enemy?’ and the whole idea that a book needs to have a problem….well, I am embarrassed to admit I totally didn’t know that when I was 9. She beamed and said, “I think I might want to be a writer like you when I grow up.” And how’s that for some inspiration?

Kate's book sandwich 001 Kate's book sandwich 002 Kate's book sandwich 003 Kate's book sandwich 004

Fiction Friday: Inspiration is all Around, Excerpt from “Zombie Road.”


By Leslie Lindsay Write on, Wednesday:  Decontrusting a Novel

For a writer, anything and everything is inspiration for writing. It’s just something with the way our brains are wired. We’re firecely observant. We scruntinize small things. And when we stare at something innocuous for a little longer than what might be “appropriate,” you can bet we’re thinking of some sinister little story or perhaps how to describe whatever it is in words that eventually make it on a page.

Yep. We’re weird.

And so it comes as no surprise that I found this little patch of land while walking my lumbering geriatric basset hound the other day. “It’s Mel’s yard!” I wanted to scream. No, not really. Well, kind of. Sure, my stomach did a little dip as I felt the story coming to life. Here’s an excerpt from an early chapter in my WIP, “Zombie Road,” which ironically contains no zombies. Sorry to disappoint.

“As I pulled the back door of Marianne Ashton’s home closed, a silent gasp worms through my throat, something grazed upon my back. I turn, but no one is there. I shake the feeling and teetered along the slate path between the side of her garage connecting our yards.

When I approach the bed where my begonias lay, the tiny plastic cartons are upturned, their heads broken off, revealing slick wet stalks.

Vandals. That word tumbled around again. This time, I consider the history of our lot. It doesn’t make sense. An animal, then?

My eyes scan the yard to the front porch, and up and down the driveway, to the small tree in the middle of the yard. No spade. Finally, I glance to the retaining wall where the land slopes downward, but no yellow spade.

Anxiety presses forth. Clumsy. Forgetful. Stupid. Maybe I took it into Marianne’s kitchen? No.

The sky darkened and appeared mottled with swaths of muslin contrails. I sit the pile of publications on the grass, patting the utility pockets of my pants. I frown at an old piece of chewing gum encased in worn, dented foil. Swarming at my ankles, as if a colony of ants has moved in, the ground peels back, revealing a patch of dead grass. Did Ran’s Lawnboy do this?WP_20140829_001

Clouds moved swiftly, an animated visage circulating god-knows-what. Just wait a minute, it will change. At least the rain will revive that dead patch of grass. Little Sally Water, choose the one you love best. I lean to retrieve the plastic flower bins as fat, heavy drops of rain splash the stack of reading materials.

A rumble of thunder, then a snap of electricity brightened the sky. No car ever arrived at Mrs. Ashton’s home depositing a music student. But her face, shrouded in a flowing curtain of Dorothy Hammil hair peers from the front window where the piano sits, a blank stare. I squint, tenting my hands over my forehead to get a better look. Maybe she’s not there, my imagination again. Maybe her student cancelled. Granite clouds lumber in from the west, darkening the sky. I raise my hand anyway, a semblance of recognition. She does not reciprocate. Embarrassed, I duck my head, scoop up the papers, and hustle to shelter in our garage, first passing by Ran’s “Big Green,” caked with cut grass. I toss the plastic tins into the recycling bin.

Another clap of thunder booms. Startled, I press the interior garage door button, allowing it to lower. I step into the mud room then, deposit water-logged papers from Marianne on the bench. A crack of lightening rocks the house with sheer ferocity. A hollow emptiness scrapes my gut. Solid, unyielding drops of rain smack the roof, resonating with life.”

[Thanks for reading! As always I appreciate feedback and “likes.” Remember, this is an original work of fiction and not to be taken as your own.]