WeWriWa—Surprise houseguests

weekend_writing_warriorsveteransbadge_4

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

I’m now starting snippets from the book formerly known as The Very Next, the chronological second of my Atlantic City books, set from March 1939 to the dawn of 1940. It underwent a radical rewrite in 2015, and I recently completed the fourth and final version. I plan on a late February  or early March release.

The book opens when best friends Cinnimin and Sparky (real name Katherine) are baking hamentaschen, three-cornered cookies stuffed with various fillings and traditionally eaten on the holiday of Purim. They’re quite surprised to see two strangers coming into the kitchen.

Cinni grabbed a dollop of chocolate chip cookie dough and snuck it into her mouth, then helped herself to some apricot jam. Sparky saw what her best friend was doing and shook her head as she continued to roll out cookie dough.

“You’re so lucky you ain’t bat mitzvah age yet,” Cinni said. “I can’t imagine fasting mosta the day. My stomach would be rumbling after the first missed meal. It really stinks that Gary has to fast on his birthday of all days. That should earn him a get out of fasting privilege.”

“It’s a holy obligation; Queen Esther fasted before she approached her husband to plead for the lives of her people, so we’re supposed to do it too. When I’m old enough, I’ll have to do all these fasts, both minor and major. You’re just not used to the idea ’cause your religion doesn’t do fasts.”

The ten lines end here. A few more follow to finish this scene.

The girls stopped talking when a strange blonde girl, who looked about Cinni and Sparky’s age, and a brunette woman, who looked to be in her twenties, came into the kitchen through the open back door. The older one bore a surly expression and crossed her arms as soon as she dropped her heavy suitcases with a big thud, while the girl looked around in silence. Both wore wool dresses almost down to their ankles, with wrist-length sleeves and the highest collarbones possible. The brunette’s dress was a sickly, dour shade of green, and the blonde was in blue the color of dirty, stagnant dishwater.

“Are you lost?” Cinni asked. “Maybe I can help you find the address you’re looking for. I know a lot of people in this neighborhood, since I’m Most Popular Girl, and my family’s lived here for centuries. My name’s Cinnimin Filliard.”

WeWriWa—New Year’s Eve 1944

weekend_writing_warriorsveteransbadge_4

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

For my New Year’s snippet, I’m sharing from Chapter 17, “Hongerwinter,” of And Jakob Flew the Fiend Away, which will soon be out in hardcover. Now eighteen, Jakob is an active member of a Dutch partisan unit with the four young men who saved him after he jumped out of a death train two years before.

Vrouw (Mrs.) Visser has been a surrogate mother to Jakob ever since his escape, when his new friends carried him to her nearby house. She hid him in a secret back room in her cellar for seven months, while he healed from a severely broken foot and ankle. During his time in the partisans, he’s visited her again every so often.

The winter of 1944–45 was Europe’s most bitterly cold in decades, and in The Netherlands, it was accompanied by national starvation. The Nazis cut off fuel shipments along with food, to punish the Dutch people for staging a railway strike to try to help the Allies’ efforts.

The NSB was the Dutch Nazi Party.

With the remaining fuel in the company’s Citroën Traction Avant, Jakob went to visit Vrouw Visser on the final weekend of the year, which coincided with New Year’s Eve. While Govert and several other partisans scouted the area and collected firewood and food, Jakob enjoyed his mini-furlough.

“It’s just like old days.” Vrouw Visser tried to smile as they ate sugar beet pancakes and watery cabbage soup in the basement. “Even when I was a child, it was common to have a wood-burning stove and not derive heat from gas. I’d prefer coal, but we can’t be picky when we only have one type of fuel.”

“Bentje doesn’t seem to mind much.” Jakob scratched Ben behind the ears.

The eight lines end here. A few more to complete the scene follow.

“He’s such a trooper. All he cares about is getting enough to eat, staying warm, and being played with. He was adopted by us so young, he probably doesn’t know to miss the better material life he had when that foul NSBer owned him and his name was Adolf.”

“You’ll both have that kind of life again within the new year. I’m positive. The Nazis’ end must be near, despite this final retribution they unleashed. Things always get worse before they can get better.”

WeWriWa—The best Christmas present of all

weekend_writing_warriorsveteransbadge_4

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

My Christmas snippets this year come from my long-hiatused WIP Justine Grown Up, the third book in my contemporary historical family saga of the Troy family. It’s set from 1979–84, and is a modern retelling of sorts of Margaret Sydney’s 1897 book Phronsie Pepper.

Baby sister Justine is now a college student and dating longtime family friend David Ryan, but her many older siblings and David’s older sister Deirdre can’t stop thinking of her as a little girl. They also can’t understand the almost-five-year age difference between Justine and David has now leveled off.

It’s Christmas 1979, and Justine is now reading the note David wrapped up with an aquamarine necklace. Cuisle mo chroí (KOOSH-la ma KREE) means “pulse of my heart” in Irish, and is David’s chosen term of endearment for Justine.

My sweet Justine Anastasie, cuisle mo chroí,

Please accept my humble Xmas gifts as tokens of the deep feelings I have for you. Every day I like you more than the day before. Growing up, you were so much younger than me, and I never dreamt one day I’d think about you in that way. Color me surprised you were thinking of me like that long before I even considered you a date possibility.

Will you please make me even happier by doing me the honor of being my official girlfriend and being exclusive with me? I can’t imagine ever liking any girl as much as I like you.

Very truly yours,

David Edgar Ryan

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend! I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me!”

The ten lines end here. A few more to complete the scene follow.

“So if Aunt Justine is your girlfriend now, does that mean you’re finally gonna kiss her?” Robbie asks as he plays with his new clown doll.

“Not in fronta all you people,” David says. “That’s something you need a special time for, not something you do ‘cause people think you’re supposed to do it.”

WeWriWa—Justine’s stocking

weekend_writing_warriorsveteransbadge_4

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

My Christmas snippets this year come from my long-hiatused WIP Justine Grown Up, the third book in my contemporary historical family saga of the Troy family. It’s set from 1979–84, and is a modern retelling of sorts of Margaret Sydney’s 1897 book Phronsie Pepper.

Baby sister Justine is now a college student and dating longtime family friend David Ryan, but her many older siblings and David’s older sister Deirdre can’t stop thinking of her as a little girl. They also can’t understand the almost-five-year age difference between Justine and David has now leveled off.

It’s Christmas 1979, and the Troys and Ryans are shaking out the contents of their stockings after unwrapping presents.

Justine shakes out a huge green, red, and white candy cane, multiple types of chocolate, a bag of jellybeans, a bag of gumdrops, a bag of candied fruit slices, and several small wrapped packages. She saves the one from David for last and first unwraps the other three. She finds dangly pineapple earrings from Aoife, a fancy pen from Adicia, and a snowflake pin from Lucine.

“Would you like to open your last gift now?” David asks.

“What exactly have you given my baby sister?” Adicia asks. “This better not be the most expensive gift of all.”

Justine finds a medium-blue teardrop-shaped gemstone on a delicate silver necklace. “This is so pretty! What did I do to deserve this?”

“Just by being such a nice girl,” David says with a big smile.

The ten lines end here. A few more follow.

“It’s aquamarine, the modern March birthstone. The ancient birthstones, bloodstone and jasper, seemed a bit mismatched for fine jewelry. Would you like me to fasten it on you?”

“Sure.” Justine holds up her hair. Her body tingles at feeling his hands on the back of her neck.

“Did you see the note under it?”

“You wrote a note too?” Deirdre asks. “This better not be as creepy as the note from András.”

“My note is only meant for Justine’s eyes. Don’t you have a wife to occupy yourself with? You’ve never been so concerned with my relationships before.”

Synopsis for Justine Grown Up:

Justine’s jealous feelings at the birth of Julie’s first child are quickly turned around when she reconnects with David, now twenty-five and a Ph.D. student. Unfortunately, her older siblings and their friends have a hard time seeing her, after years of being the precious family baby, as a grownup woman who’s old enough for marriage, motherhood, and moving out with her new family. But then, when her young nieces become Duranies, an unexpected opportunity opens up for Justine to finally prove once and for all to her family that she’s a responsible, capable, mature adult.

WeWriWa—Jakob’s jackfruit chanukiyah

weekend_writing_warriorsveteransbadge_4

Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. The rules have now been relaxed to allow a few more sentences if merited, so long as they’re clearly indicated, to avoid the creative punctuation many of us have used to stay within the limit.

My second Chanukah snippet this year comes from And the Lark Arose from Sullen Earth, the sequel to And Jakob Flew the Fiend Away. It’s now December 1946, and 20-year-old Jakob DeJonghe and Rachel Roggenfelder are enjoying winter vacation at the Cape Cod cottage they honeymooned at in summer.

Jakob and Rachel civilly married in The Netherlands in May 1945, but almost immediately had to separate due to Jakob’s continuing military commitment and Rachel’s expedited immigration to America. They were finally reunited in June 1946 and had their long-awaited religious wedding that month. Rachel is now 24 weeks pregnant.

All this time later, I can’t remember if I deliberately gave them the names of a famous couple, or if it were a romantic coincidence.

Chanukah 1943 in the Westerbork detention camp

Rachel watched her husband going into their bedroom and coming back with a strange-looking chanukiyah. She couldn’t figure out what in the world it was made out of, and why he’d bought such a thing. It looked like a child’s school art project.

“I made it in the Indies last year. It’s made of hollowed-out jackfruit. It meant more to me than an expensive thing from a fancy store. Would you like to use it for our first Chanukah together?”

She reached out for it and turned it over in her hands. “I can’t believe you kept this makeshift thing. It must’ve meant a lot to you if you kept it all this time.”

The ten lines end here. A few more follow.

“Isn’t it beautiful? I made it all by myself, and took care so all the fruit was gone. I didn’t want it to rot or mold and get me a reprimand from my commanding officer.”

“Very creative and original. The two Chanukahs I spent at Westerbork, the inmates made them from hollowed-out potatoes and turnips. I don’t think anyone came there with a real one, at least not one they were willing to display openly. I’ll never understand that camp, so many contradictions and hypocrisies.”

“The only thing I understand about that place was that I found my dream girl there after I thought I’d never see you again.” He slipped his hand under her blouse and traced his fingertips along her ever-increasing breasts.