The Writer’s Voice Entry

This year’s Writer’s Voice contest is live, and I was chosen by the Rafflecopter as one of the entries. Even though I’ve decided to pursue indie publication for my longer books, I still haven’t entirely given up the idea of traditional publication for my much-shorter books. The contest is again hosted by Cupid’s Literary Connection, Brenda Lee Drake, Mónica B.W. of Love YA, and Krista Van Dolzer. Twelve agents will be judging the finalists.

This year I’m going to be using my first Atlantic City book instead of Jakob’s story. I just decided that Jaap’s story probably works better as adult than YA in the current North American market, in spite of how he ages from 14-20. I’ve been calling this The Very First since its genesis in October ’92 and have a hard time thinking of it under any other title, but I’m open to suggestions on a more original title! Note: I deliberately made Sparky and Cinni’s age ambiguous during the radical rewrite and restructuring, though it’s stated that they’re under 12.

Query:

Dear [Agent],

When German-born Katherine Brandt immigrates in 1938, her dearest wish is to become a real American girl. She even accepts the American nickname Sparky to try to gain acceptance. But before she can realize her dream, she’s going to have to learn the ins and outs of the unusual town and group of friends she’s joined.

Sparky is taken under the wing of Cinnimin Filliard, who teaches her a thing or two about American life and their strange Atlantic City neighborhood. Sparky wants to believe Cinni is steering her right, but Cinni has some conflicting attitudes. Cinni is nice and intelligent, but she often cops a superior attitude just because she was voted Most Popular Girl. Particularly to neighbor Violet, whom Cinni is convinced is after her title.

Sparky will do almost anything to fit in, except compromise her Judaism. She longs to be Sparky to her friends while remaining Kätchen to her family and staying true to her values. But along the way, Cinni, who tries to tempt her into wearing shorter skirts and eating non-kosher food, slowly begins realizing that there’s more than one acceptable way to be a real American. Only one thing is for certain—on Sparky’s upcoming birthday, she’s going to wish to be a real American girl, and she wants that wish to come true, even if she has to make some modifications she once thought she’d never make.

THE VERY FIRST, a work of upper MG historical fiction with elements of social satire, is complete at 60,000 words.

I have a BA from [redacted] in history and Russian and Eastern European Studies, with a focus on 20th century Russian history and the World War II/Shoah era, and worked in the production room of an Albany, NY-based newspaper, The Jewish World, for five years, writing, researching, and proofreading articles.

First 250:

Cinnimin Filliard reached for the candy bowl on her father’s desk and popped a handful of gumdrops into her mouth.  Her father had said the five longterm houseguests they were expecting would arrive today, and she figured indulging her sweet tooth would help get rid of her nervousness and put her mind on other things.

“Can I see your photo albums, Daddy?  I wanna know what they look like before they move into our house.  I hope they’re nicer houseguests than Aunt Lucinda, Uncle Jasper, and stupid Elmira.”

Mr. Filliard smiled indulgently at his pet child, his deep brown eyes twinkling. “You know you never need my permission to do anything.”

Cinni took a photo album and plopped down on the floor. “Oh, brother, this Katherine girl really needs a makeover.  No one wears long skirts anymore.” She pushed her long curly hair out of her face. “Who better than the Most Popular Girl to make her over?”

“They’re religious Jews, I told you.  They do things a little differently.  I’m sure Katherine will tell you she’s got reasons of her own for wearing clothes that look a little out of fashion to you.  You know most girls these days have much shorter hair than yours, but you have your own reasons for never wanting another haircut.”

Cinni went to the front window and raised the curtain. “I don’t see their taxi yet.  Do you think they got lost?”

“Maybe their train was late, or their taxi got caught in traffic.  They’ll be here soon enough, and you can start getting to know them.  I hope you don’t mind sharing your room with Katherine.”

Sweet Saturday Samples—Finding the Haunted House

My Alpha Male blog post is here.

This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples comes from a bit later in Chapter 14, “Happy Halloween,” of The Very First. Sparky is reluctantly going trick-or-treating with Cinni, Cinni’s favorite sister Babs, and their neighbors Quintina (Tina) and Violet. Because of Sparky’s level of religious observance, she hasn’t really been able to take any candy, only apples. During their traipsing around the neighborhood, Cinni decides to try to find the haunted house that’s said to stand on Jennifer Street. The only problem is, no one knows the address of this infamous old house.

***

Babs crept up to the next darkened house. “This might be it.  They don’t even have a car.  Everyone has a car nowadays, at least in the nice parts of the neighborhood.  This house doesn’t even have some old Model T piece of junk or anything.”

Cinni shone her flashlight into the mailbox. “No mail neither.  Boy, this thing’s got a lot of cobwebs.”

Tina squinted her eyes at it in the dark, trying to make things out from the light from nearby houses. “It does look pretty old.  I ain’t no future architecture student, but I know this ain’t the typea house they made even a hundred years ago.  Maybe it really was made in the Colonial era like the haunted house.”

Cinni tried the front door. “Won’t open.  Is anyone brave enough to wanna try the back door, or any other doors?”

“You don’t even know if this is your haunted house!” Sparky protested. “And what if someone really does live here?  He’d be really mad if he found you tryna break into his house.  And if he’s away, he’ll come back to find someone broke in.”

Babs tried the windows in front and found them all stuck too. “Perhaps this is the haunted house.  But it could also be the house my mom’s people useta have Summer vacations at.  I know that house is pretty old too, and no one’s lived in it for awhile.”

“What if the haunted house and your mother’s old family home are the same house?”

Cinni laughed. “That just ain’t possible.  They’re two different houses, wherever they are on this street.  I told you, the mystery of Charlotte Lennon’s descendants will probably always be a town unsolved mystery.  No one decent wants to admit to being descended from someone who was born outta wedlock, so that family tree, whoever has it, is lost to the ages.”

“Don’t they have records or anything in the library or wherever else they keep archives?  There were people on both sides of my family who served in the military when Germany was still Prussia, and my father took copies of the documents with him when we left Germany.  All important countries are supposed to keep records in the modern era.”

“Charlotte Lennon died in 1645.  I doubt most places in America even keep records that far back.” Cinni stepped back and craned her neck up at the upper stories, shining her flashlight into the windows. “Can anyone see movement?”

“I’m getting cold,” Violet whined. “And my feet hurt.  Plus we need to go to your party.  If I was Most Popular Girl, I’d never neglect my responsibilities as hostess to go playing detective and creeping around supposed haunted houses.”

Cinni shone the flashlight into her eyes, and Violet immediately threw her hands over her eyes. “You never will be Most Popular Girl, you damn dirty schemer.  At least you pretended you don’t have designs on my title by saying ‘if,’ not ‘when.’  Remember I’ve got eyes everywhere, you skinny twit.  I know what you’re thinking and planning before you do.  Any fantasies you have of stealing my throne will stay in your head.  Got that?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Violet seethed as they started the walk back to Maxwell Avenue.

Sweet Saturday Samples—Halloween at School

This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples comes from Chapter 14, “Happy Halloween,” of The Very First. It’s Halloween 1938, and while Sparky feels a little uneasy about having to wear a costume and take part in an unfamiliar holiday, Cinni is jumping at the opportunity to engage in one of her favorite pastimes, indulging her sweet tooth. Meanwhile, their goody-two-shoes frenemy Adeline is being a spoil-sport and a bit of a hypocrite.

***

Even though the Filliards had been decorating their house for Halloween over the last few weeks, and their neighbors the Hitchcocks, the Vallis, and the Holidays had also been decorating, Sparky was still a bit surprised to arrive at school on Monday and find the entire school also decorated.  Halloween hadn’t even been a concept back in Amsterdam, and the elements of the holiday definitely didn’t seem very Jewish to her.  It was bad enough Cinni had gotten her to agree to wearing a cat costume instead of her usual school clothes.  It felt ridiculous to walk around school all day in a costume.

“Thank God I’m in junior high and not expected to come to school in costume,” Barry muttered as they got off the bus.

“I take it you ain’t coming to the Halloween dance for older students tonight?” Cinni asked, adjusting her derby hat. “I can’t wait till I’m old enough to go.  It’s fun to have a party in class, but it must be even more fun to have a big dance and party for the whole school.”

“I wouldn’t even have a date.” He cast a quick look over Cinni, taking in her beautiful eyes that matched her name. “You wouldn’t have a date either.  You’re too young for a boyfriend or going on dates.”

Cinni pointed to Julieanna, dressed as a French milkmaid. “Julie has a practice boyfriend already, Harry Brewster, the boy dressed like a farmer.  Perhaps I’ll be old enough for my own practice boyfriend in a few more years.”

“You never know,” he mumbled as he rushed off to the junior high side of the building.

Mr. Robinson stood by the steps near one of the entrance doors, handing out candy and chocolates.  Cinni eagerly opened her schoolbag and continued standing there smiling expectantly even after Mr. Robinson closed the large bag of treats.

“Let’s not be greedy, Cinnimin,” the principal said. “I take it you’re using Halloween as an excuse to come to school in pants?”

“What, is it against your rules to dress like the opposite sex for Halloween?  I never saw that rule in your current rulebook.  Besides, only idiots think a girl or woman in pants is really a guy.  They either need to get glasses or quit drinking.”

Mr. Robinson turned to Sparky. “Katherine Brandt, right?  Would you like some candy?”

“I don’t know if that’s kosher candy, Sir.  I have special rules about what I can and can’t eat.” Sparky looked down the hall at all the Halloween decorations. “I don’t think I should even be celebrating this holiday.  It ain’t a Jewish holiday.”

“Only heathens celebrate Halloween,” Adeline whispered smugly. “May I have some candy too, Mr. Robinson?”

“You don’t celebrate Halloween, Adeline.  You’re not like your older sister Pansy.  You’re as fun-hating and overly religious as your parents.  Let the other students who celebrate Halloween have the candy.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t dress like a dragon,” Cinni smirked. “Since your daddy is a Grand Dragon.  Do you know if he wants to get promoted to Imperial Wizard or whatever other silly titles the Klan has for higher-ups?”

“My daddy ain’t in the Klan, for the last time,” Adeline seethed.

“Sure he ain’t.  But I guess if you wanna be in denial about it forever, that’s your right.” Cinni began eating the largest candybar in her bag as she continued up the stairs.

Their first period art classroom was decorated with jack-o-lanterns, gourds, skeletons, witches, and ghouls.  Orange streamers and black and orange balloons were strung up all across the classroom.  On their tables, which they used instead of desks in this class, were bowls of candy and smaller decorations.  Miss Reinders had hung a few macabre, creepy drawings on the wall as well.

“I know some of those pictures are by Albrecht Dürer, but I don’t recognize the other ones,” Cinni said as she surveyed the new decorations. “I like dark art.  It’s more interesting and real than boring stuff like angels, flowers, religious stuff, and landscapes.”

Adeline was already shoving the candy at her seat down her throat as she gave snooty looks to the Halloween decorations.  Cinni could only laugh at her blatant, unrealized hypocrisy.

“You can have my candy, Cinni, if some of it’s not kosher,” Sparky said.

“Oh, come on, free candy,” Cinni tried to tempt her. “Your folks don’t have to know, and I’m pretty sure God understands that modern people have to do modern things.  Not everyone is lucky enough to live on a mountaintop and have no modern distractions.  I’m sure even the people who still live in Israel don’t have it as perfect as they did in ancient days.”

Sweet Saturday Samples—Building the Sukkah, Continued

This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples concludes Chapter 12, “High Holy Days,” of The Very First, as it’s Sukkot-themed, and the holiday continues through Monday. The conclusion of the festival is Simchat Torah on Monday night and Tuesday.

***

Mr. Small and his sons came back carting plywood and armfuls of the green schach, meant to cover the spaces on the sukkah’s roof.  As soon as he was done hammering the plywood into place, Mr. Green went to get a ladder and made himself useful by tossing schach onto the makeshift sukkah roof.  While they were doing this, Sparky went into the box of decorations she and her brothers had made a few evenings ago and started hanging them on the walls.

“Would you like to have dinner with us sometime during Sukkot?” Mrs. Small asked. “Guests are always welcome.”

“No, I think I know my place.  Just helping neighbors is enough.” Mr. Green bit his lip to avoid breaking out crying at the memory of boyhood celebrations of the holidays, before his parents had died in that boating accident in 1917.

“Are you still in touch with your Jewish college friends?” Sparky asked.

“They, uh, don’t live around here.  There’s no real college in Atlantic City, so I had to go elsewhere.  The one college in town is such a joke, I don’t think their diplomas are worth the paper they’re printed on.  No one who wants a real job or to be taken seriously goes to a no-name college in a beach town.” He descended the ladder and got more schach.

“They have a local college?” Barry asked. “What’s its name?  Maybe I can go there so I won’t have to worry about beating a quota like Gary will.”

“Atlantic City College, or College of Atlantic City.  I forget which name it goes by.  It’s not much more prestigious than a junior college, except that it grants bachelor’s degrees and goes for four years.  A lot of people in this town go there, just because they can’t bear to leave town even for four years.  You’d think leaving town in this day and age were tantamount to braving the Old West or living in Siberia, and that you’d fall under a magical spell that would tempt you away from ever returning home.  I hate provincialism.”

“If we’re going to stay here and not move to a bigger city, and if most of the other kids are going to go to that school, then that’s where I’m going to college someday too,” Sparky declared. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m better than them or that I’m not a real American.  And I wouldn’t know anyone in a new town.”

“You’ve got quite a few years before you’ll be old enough for college.” Mr. Green went down the ladder again for more schach. “But just a word of advice from someone who knows what he’s talking about, in more ways than you’ll probably ever know.  Don’t ever let anyone try to tell you you have to change your name, your religion, or your customs to try to fit in and become a real American.  Society has come a long way in the last few decades.  You no longer have to choose between whitewashing yourself to become a real American or living in a self-imposed ghetto where you pretend you never left the old country.  It’s too late for many older people, but new immigrants are still open to honest suggestions.  So long as you can live in both worlds without giving up too much of one in exchange for the other.”

“I’ll try my best.” Sparky went back to the box for more decorations.

“Kitty’s dad is very wise,” Cinni said. “Most grownups are pretty stupid, but he gives good advice and tells it like it is.  Violet’s mom is also pretty decent, and Julie’s mom is pretty good too.  But that doesn’t mean I want you to start listening to only grownups.  I’m still the one who’s teaching you to be a real American.  I know what I’m doing, because I’m Most Popular Girl.”

Sparky nodded as she pulled out the rest of the decorations and went around the sukkah hanging them up.  Right now it still seemed easier said than done, but Cinni and Mr. Green probably did know what they were talking about, and it was starting to seem a bit easier and slightly more natural when she did things.  It hadn’t been quite three months since she and her family had arrived in America, but already it seemed as though she’d been here for a lot longer.  Perhaps all she had to do was continue observing how things were done and how people talked, and try her best to imitate them.

Sweet Saturday Samples—Building the Sukkah

This week’s excerpt for Sweet Saturday Samples also comes from Chapter 12, “High Holy Days,” of The Very First, since it’s Sukkot-themed, and Sukkot begins on Sunday night. While Sparky’s family are constructing their sukkah on the Filliards’ back veranda, Mr. Green comes up with plywood and schach (greenery for the roof) just as promised.

***

The next afternoon, as Mr. Small, Gary, and Barry were constructing a sukkah around the Filliards’ back veranda, Mr. Green appeared in the backyard.  Cinni and Sparky, watching the action from a corner of the yard, looked over at him.  So he had been serious when he mentioned the idea yesterday.

“I took another day off work so I could get you some extra schach, and some extra plywood, just in case you needed it.  Remember, my wife doesn’t know I’ve been taking days off.”

“Who are you?” Mr. Small asked. “Do you go to our synagogue?”

“I’m Phillip Green, the father of Cinnimin and Sparky’s friend Kit.  We live on Lennon Avenue.  Yesterday I was taking a walk on the beach and ran across the girls, and offered to bring you extra supplies for your sukkah if you needed it.  It’s been awhile since I’ve been involved in this, but I do remember you need extra just in case you end up too short.”

“If you’re a Methodist, why in the world would you have built a sukkah?” Gary asked.

“I, um, had some Jewish friends in college, and I, uh, sort of helped them with religious celebrations.  I’m not someone who only cares or knows about his own kind, or who thinks every religion, race, and culture should be separate and not even equal.  Now enough questions.  I came here to help you.  Would anyone like to help carry it from my wagon?”

“You didn’t bring it in a big dumptruck?” Barry asked. “You could’ve just driven it back here and dumped it in a big pile.”

“I breed and train horses.  It’s second nature to use horsepower.  Most people back in the—in my family’s original hometown—used horses to get around too, even though cars weren’t so new anymore when I was born.”

“When were you born, Mr. Green?” Sparky asked as her father and brothers headed out to the parked wagon. “Are you younger than my parents?  My parents were both born in 1906.”

“December 1902.  I think my love of horses stems from my sign.  Sagittarius is the centaur, half man, half horse.  Even my name means ‘friend of horses.’  My kids love horses too, though my youngest, that little pipsqueak Sammy, ain’t too keen on them.  My wife spoils that boy rotten, and then whines about how I treat Kitty like my own special pet child.  Maybe I do spoil Kit a little, but at least Kit ain’t shielded from real life the way my wife shelters Sammy.”

Sparky just stared at him, still not over her shock at how people in this strange town thought nothing of sharing such personal information instead of keeping it behind closed doors.  Here Mr. Green was announcing his disdain for his youngest child as though he were announcing the weather.

Mr. Green propped up one of the plywood planks he’d carried over with him and bent down for a hammer and some nails. “It’s nice to see some new faces in town, and for Kit to have a new friend who wasn’t born into our town and social circle.  Differences are good.” He started hammering.

“It’s nice you came to visit us and help,” Mrs. Small said. “We’ve never had a real housecall from any of the neighbors or townspeople yet.  They don’t ignore us if we see them, but they haven’t come over to the house to specifically welcome us.”

“Some of the people in this town are snobs, not that you heard such gossip from me.  They’d like to think they were all born here and swimming in millions of dollars, when quite a few of the neighborhood’s richest, most prominent families are not American bluebloods who’ve been here since Colonial days.  My own family had to earn our riches the hard way.  We don’t take our millions for granted like that uppity family next door to you, the Hitchcocks.  Kitty says young Violet can be really unbearable.”