WeWriWa—Meet Mortez

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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 sharing snippets from the book formerly known as The Very Next, now entitled Movements in the Symphony of 1939. It was released in e-book format on March second, with a paperback edition to follow within a few months. The paperback edition will have a different cover.

Best friends Cinnimin and Sparky (real name Katherine) were on their way to their friend Quintina’s birthday party when new houseguest Urma Smart demanded they take her daughter Samantha. Urma began very angry when Cinni compared Sam’s very old-fashioned clothes to those of the Amish. In Urma’s mind, the Amish are heretics.

Mortez, Urma’s dark-haired, dark-eyed husband, looked up from Life magazine and began to stand up from the blue loveseat. “Urma, you’re not acting very Christian right now. You shouldn’t yell at a young girl and accuse her of things she never suggested because you read between non-existent lines. Samantha does dress a little out of fashion, and no one will know her at that birthday party. I agree she does need new friends, but you can’t force Cinnimin to bring her along.”

Urma glared at her husband, whom Cinni saw shrinking under her gaze. “Was anyone speaking to you?”

“No.”

“Then kindly go back to reading and staying out of matters that don’t concern you. I did not go to so much trouble to win you back and marry you, against my parents’ wishes, just for you to dictate how I should and shouldn’t behave.”

The ten lines end there. A few more to finish the scene follow.

“Yes, my love.” Mortez sat back down and continued reading Life.

Cinni stared at Mortez. “Well, now we know who wears the pants in that marriage,” she whispered to Sparky. “I don’t think the man is the head of the household and superior to his wife, but he should have a backbone and not let his wife boss him around like that. Even Mrs. Seward ain’t that mean and cold to Mr. Seward when they fight.”

The Torch Passes (Tahoma)

Since I didn’t get around to writing an original post for Monday, let’s finally move out a 2013 post that languished in my drafts folder after I decided not to use it as part of that year’s A to Z.

Font: Tahoma

Year created: 1994

Chapter: “The Torch Passes”

Book: Cinnimin

Written: 23 July 1996-10 April 1997

Handwritten

This is Part XVI (16) in my current table of contents for my magnum opus, set from 11 December 1960-1 April 1963. Not including Parts I put on hiatus because of writer’s block or focusing on other projects, this is the one that took me the longest at a single stretch to write. Seriously, I could’ve carried a pregnancy to full term in the time it took me to write this! Even the notebook is depressing, without any covers. This was not a happy time in my life, the summer of ’96 and my junior year of high school.

But I do like it because so much happens here, many things setting the seeds for future storylines. Some new characters are also introduced, foremost among them the immigrant Laurel-Esterházy family from Blackpool, England and Győr, Hungary. Ophelia Laurel will eventually marry Cinni’s son Serop, and several other people in the family (the second generation as well) will marry into Cinni’s family and other important town families. Even some of the ones who don’t [marry into these families] become important characters, like Kathi and poor ill-fated Lauren, who’s going to die of AIDS at the stroke of the new millennium.

Some really stupid storylines met their well-deserved death here, like Cinni’s loopy Stalinist phase (don’t even ask), Cinni’s association with the weird Russian immigrant Bouncer at The Club, and young Anastasia reading banned Soviet books in secret. New ones, more germane to a real family/town saga, began taking shape. And, of course, the torch began passing from Cinni’s generation to her children and her friends’ children.

Some highlights:

“Henry, may I borrow these velvet handcuffs?” Julieanna asked as she casually walked into the bathroom, savoring their horrified looks at being caught in the act.

[Kit] burned an extremely important paper Rob was working on for his spastic boss once she got back home. Then she finished off an entire cheesecake his secretary had made him for a Christmas gift.

“Well, I was cold, and baby was shivering, so I decided to start a fire. I saw those papers in the box of logs, so I thought they were a rough draft which you wanted disposed of, Robert!”

Luke was crying. “I look like Hitler from the waist down! Thanks a lot, you pagan Commie!”

[After Helouise has walked in on her before JFK’s inauguration and refuses to leave] “Close the door! My excretionary life ain’t nonea your business!” Sam started crying.

“Close the door! I’m sorta involved in a private matter!”

“What did you do, drink nonstop before you got in here? You’re still making!”

“You just spent seventeen minutes making onto a photo of President Kennedy!” Helouise was appalled. “Give me that bag, freak!”

Sam was so scared she started urinating again. Helouise was seething.

Julieanna gave the finger to every person attempting to slow her down and bumped several cars off the road before she finally drove through the wall of the emergency room and knocked a man on an oxygen tank into the wall.

[After her soap actor husband Kevin has said the reason he hasn’t slept with her in six years is because of a “bit too real” car accident on the show] “Oh, the hell I did mind! I have wanted a second child for three or four years now!” Julieanna started crying.

[After Kit springs a surprise visit on him in Amsterdam, all four of her small children and her lover in tow] “Why don’t you ever do things like normal people?” Gary demanded, at the desk now. “There are psychologists in England too!”

“This is crazy Kit Green, her lover, and her four kids,” Gary whispered. “She came from England to see me, then drove around Amsterdam for three hours looking for my office!”

[During the Most Popular Girl competition for the new generation, which Cinni has rigged so Anastasia will win and Bélgica will lose by a landslide] “I wonder why Bélgica ain’t practiced more,” Cinnimin said calmly. “She’s doin’ ghastly!”

“Poor sportsmanship,” Lucinda announced. “A fourth negative ten! Tens for all the others. Shall we disqualify Bélgica?”

“Lookit these judges!” Bélgica was crying again. “Your mom, your aunt, onea your stepsisters, your cousin, and onea your stepsisters-in-law!”

[Kit and Sam have found themselves roommates after having babies on the same day] Kit pressed a button, making Sam’s bed shoot up and down. Adolfa slipped to the floor and screamed, while Sam’s water spilled onto her pillows. She was fuming.

Sam was humiliated by the laughter of everyone in the room. Tears of rage in her eyes, she ran to the bathroom, slipped on amniotic fluid, and broke her leg. Needless to say, she spent quite a few months abed.

WeWriWa—Intercepted by Urma

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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 sharing 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 an early March release. The new title will be revealed then.

Chapter 2, “Happy Birthday, Tina,” starts when best friends Cinnimin and Sparky (real name Katherine), who live together, are about to head out to their friend Quintina’s birthday party. Then new houseguest Urma Smart sees them and delays them on their way.

An eruv is a fence, wall, or other enclosure enabling people to carry objects and push strollers in the public domain on the Sabbath. I used to live within the eruv of Albany, NY.

Saturday after lunch with her family, Sparky put on her new Mary Janes and got ready to head out to Quintina Holiday’s residence. Since there was no eruv or other type of continuous, unbroken fence, Cinni carried both of their birthday presents for Tina.

“Where are you going without Samantha?” Urma demanded.

“One of our best friends is having a birthday party,” Cinni said. “She lives behind our house. Sam wasn’t invited. No one there will know her.”

“So? You should take Samantha. She needs playmates, however secular.”

The ten lines end there. A few more to finish the scene follow.

Cinni looked at Sam, wearing a navy blue sailor suit dress, matching giant hairbow, and black button-up boots, her long blonde hair combed straighter than a pin. “I don’t think she’ll be very popular at the party. No one there dresses like the Amish.”

“Amish?” Urma’s voice took on a sharp, ugly, accusatory edge. “Is that what you think we are? I’ll have you know we’re proper Christians, and wouldn’t dream of joining heretical groups like that! We’re such good Christians, we’ve had three baptisms! How dare you accuse us of heresy!”

WeWriWa—Pondering the future

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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 sharing 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 new title will be revealed then.

Best friends Cinnimin and Sparky (real name Katherine) were baking cookies when two strangers entered the kitchen. They now know these interlopers are Urma and Samantha Smart from Washington, D.C., who’ll be living in their household until further notice. Urma has lost no time in showing some very ugly true colors, though Sam is a more unknown entity for the moment.

Urma just ordered Sam to come with her, leaving Cinni and Sparky alone to ponder the strange scene they just witnessed.

“What just happened?” Cinni asked. “We’ve got three new houseguests all of a sudden, and they think they’re better than us? I don’t wanna know what exactly their religion is like, if it’s even worse than normal Methodism.”

“I hope they move out soon,” Sparky agreed. “If they’re born Americans, they can find work and a new house easier than my parents.”

“Maybe I can help Samantha become a real American girl, just like I helped you. Her mother might be mad, but she’ll have to get used to it. No one can be that set in her ways so young already.”

“What if they’re both as bad as they seem?”

The nine lines end here. A few more follow to finish the chapter.

Cinni grabbed a rolling pin and attacked a slab of chocolate dough with renewed vigor. “If they are, we’ve just become trapped in a nightmare. I ain’t looking forward to living with people who hate us before they even got to know us.”

WeWriWa—Rooming arrangements

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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 sharing 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 new title will be revealed then.

Best friends Cinnimin and Sparky (real name Katherine) were baking cookies when two strangers entered the kitchen. They introduced themselves as Urma and Samantha Smart from Washington, D.C., and said they were directed to Cinni’s house and her father. Urma, the mother, has begun showing her very ugly true colors as an intolerant fundamentalist.

Cinni’s father just came in and explained the Smarts lost their apartment to arson and need a place to stay till they find a new home.

Cinni pulled a piece of peach rock candy out of her left pocket and tossed it into her mouth. “I’m sorry they lost their apartment. They must really want a fresh start if they came all the way here ’steada staying in the D.C. area.”

“There’s too much godlessness and sin in the capital,” Urma said. “Perhaps a smaller city will be more conducive to living a perfect fundamentalist Methodist life. Samantha in particular doesn’t need any temptations, as strong as she is in her testimony.”

“Where will we be rooming, Sir?” Samantha asked Mr. Filliard. “I’m used to having a bedroom all to myself, and good Christians shouldn’t have to share a home with heathens. It’s bad enough my father isn’t religious enough.”

“You’ll be in the attic with Cinnimin and Sparky,” Mr. Filliard said.

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

“There’s also a private bathroom across the hall. Their bedroom is much larger than my own master suite, since it takes up almost the entire attic. I bet you’ll really like it.” He turned to Urma. “You and Mortez will be on the second floor, in a small bedroom my children’s nanny used to use. I won’t insult you by asking you to use the maid’s room on the first floor. When my family had a maid, she lived here in the guesthouse with our cook. That room is an extra closet now. I feel sorry for maids forced to use such small rooms.”

*********************

Though the Filliards went from riches to rags after the Stock Market crashed, and took quite awhile to chase the wolf from the door, they were able to retain their rather large house thanks to selling almost all their possessions. A few well-off friends also helped with money.

Despite the size of the house, it wasn’t considered a mansion even when the Filliards were rich. It was built and used as an upper-middle-class house for much of its long history.