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The Swanson Shuffle

Reading The Swanson Shuffle at Open Mic

Most Thursdays are open mic nights at my son’s brewery, Floodwater Brewing in Shelburne Falls. I go to listen to the talented musicians who perform there. Sometimes I read, which I did last night, in honor of the release the day before of my new book, The Swanson Shuffle.

Besides serving great beer brewed on the premises, Zack has provided a community space and a place for the area’s musical talent. Open mic is an anything-goes-night, with musicians playing singly or in a group for three songs. A few recite poetry they’ve written, one remarkably from memory. Recently, I read from my latest book for middle grade readers, The Twin Jinn and the Alchemy Machine — advising listeners “to channel their 11-year-old selves.”

Last night’s list was long, so it was a two-song night. I sat at the bar, drinking The Last Waltz Vienna Lager while waiting my turn, which was near the bottom of the list. Before I walked from home, I got a call to bring more copies of The Swanson Shuffle. Floodwater is the only place to buy my books other than on Amazon. I give readers a Floodwater discount. Last night, I sold six books, including from my mystery series.

Finally, it was my turn. Yes, that’s me above at Floodwater. I specifically chose a chapter that would give listeners an idea of what this book’s about — a young woman’s experience as a live-in staff member at a psychiatric halfway house in 1974. I had already read the chapter aloud at home, so I knew it would take five minutes, a reasonable amount of time. The challenge here would be the lighting, designed for musicians and not readers, but I made it work.

I started with a little humor, noting Zack thoughtfully named a beer for me, an IPA, called Cyborg Joan — naturally, there is a story that goes with that. I do get a kick out of it when I hear someone say, “give me a Joan.”

Anyway, here is the chapter I read last night called “Dented Cans.” Bia is with Debbie, the disgruntled woman who she will replace at Swanson House.

I follow Debbie to her room, which is at the head of the stairs on the second floor. She explains the large rooms on this floor were broken up when this mansion got turned into an inn after the rich folks lost their money during the Great Depression. A few are large enough to be doubles. More are on the third floor, where the servants used to sleep, but Swanson House stopped letting residents use the rooms there after a recent problem. I’m sleeping in Debbie’s room tonight, and if I get this job, it will be mine. Debbie is off this weekend. So is Paul, the other single staff member, but Ben and Nina are staying.

“The sheets are clean,” Debbie says.

I drop my bag on the bed. Not much else is here, a dresser, an upholstered chair, and a door that likely leads to a closet. The windows don’t have curtains. Paper, an old-style print with stripes and roses, peels from the walls.

“You’ve already packed?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m outta here in another week. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do next. I’ll be crashing with my folks for now.” She gives me a squinty stare. “Can I give you some advice?” she asks but from her tone of voice I can tell she’s not seeking my permission.

“Sure.”

She shuts the door, then points toward the chair. I sit down. She stays standing.

“You’ll probably get the job. You’re the best one to apply, and I bet you’ll take it if they offer.” She raises a hand before I reply. “If that all happens, my advice is not to get too close to the residents.”

“Too close.”

“You’ll burn out fast if you do. Believe me. It’s okay to care. Just don’t care so much like I did.” Her voice trails off. “You come here thinking they’re the same as us, but they aren’t. They’re dented cans.” She sees me wince. “You know those cans in the supermarket they put on sale ’cause somebody dropped them, and now they have a big dent? The insides are supposed to be good, but no matter what anybody does, that dent’s never coming out. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Maybe.”

“You met Jerry. He seems normal enough. Ask him about his lousy childhood. No one should have to grow up like he did. I sure didn’t. I bet you didn’t either. He dropped out of high school and worked a lot of shitty jobs. Miracle he didn’t get drafted and end up in Vietnam. I guess he moved around too much for anyone to find him. Last job he worked was running rides in a traveling carnival. He got into drugs, and all the old stuff started coming up. He began hearing what people were thinking, and you know nothing good’s gonna come from that. Jerry was yelling at people, and one time he wouldn’t stop the Ferris wheel ’cause he didn’t like what the people riding in it were thinking about him. The wheel was going round and round. People were getting sick and screaming for real. He was fighting off the other carnies trying to stop it. It’s what got him into Alden.”

“Shit.”

“You’re right. Shit. You meet Brian yet? No? Did they tell you he didn’t even go into a hospital? His pushy mother is a friend of one of the doctors at Alden, and she talked him into letting him come here. Brian is a little nervous and unsure of himself. I’d be, too, if I had a bitch of a mother like his. It’s a new one on me.” She waves her hand. “Stanley’s another one with mother problems. He checked himself into Alden after a snake on the TV said he should kill the old lady.” Debbie sits on her bed. She’s a skinny girl with a square jaw so sharp it could cut paper. Her stick legs hang from beneath her flowered mini skirt. “Stanley’s totally harmless. So’s Jim. Lane’s a smart goofball. His folks have bucks. I don’t understand why they let him stay in a dump like this. Then there’s Kevin. You haven’t met him. He’s only a kid. Quiet. You won’t get much out of him.”

“Carole told me about her baby.”

She shrugs.

“We think she had a baby, but we don’t think the doctors are hiding her somewhere. Maybe the baby died. Maybe the state took her away. We really don’t know.” She shakes her head again. “It gets to you after a while. It’s going to happen to Paul if he’s not careful. He’s getting too buddy-buddy with a few of the guys. I see it coming.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

She shakes her head.

“I guess you’ll have to find out the hard way like I did. Somebody got this big idea to set up places like Swanson. They hire untrained people. They claim they’ll do just as good a job as the pros, like we’re supposed to be role models. Some great experiment.” She snorts. “It comes down to this. They’re shutting down the state hospitals and want a place to dump these people. They pump them up with meds and make sure they can work. You met Peg. At least she’s going home to her kids. I’m really happy for her. The rest? God’s honest truth? If they don’t take their meds, they’ll be back in a ward somewhere, except for Brian who’s never been in one. If they do take their meds, they’ll work some shitty job like packing boxes at Delta Millworks and live here at Swanson because it’s a cheap, safe place. Outside of Peg, I’ve seen only two people leave for good in the nine months I’ve been here.”

“Only two?”

“I’m not trying to scare you. Just take it as friendly advice. Don’t expect too much and keep your boundaries. And don’t stay here on your days off. You have a boyfriend? Yeah? Maybe it’ll work out for you here.” She reaches under her bed for a suitcase. “Dinner should be on the table soon. I won’t be staying. And another thing. Don’t believe a damn word that comes out of Angie’s mouth. She’ll brag about being a groupie. She was probably a stripper or maybe a hooker. She’s just found a good place to hide out for a while.” She opens the top drawer of her dresser. “And whatever you do, don’t lend her or anybody money because you’ll never get it back.”

Okay, here’s the link to buy The Swanson Shuffle in Kindle or paperback. And thank you if you do.

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Northern Comfort

Meet Miles and Junior of Northern Comfort

My new book, Northern Comfort, starts with a tragedy — a child’s sled sends him into the path of a truck despite his mother’s attempts to stop him. For this post, I wanted to write about the two men most impacted by this tragedy. One is Miles Potter, who was driving the truck. The other is Junior Miller, who abandoned little Cody and his mother, Willi Miller.

Both men are natives in the hilltown of Hayward, but their backgrounds are so different. The same is true for the lives they lead. Let me explain.

Miles Potter could be described as a man of means and opportunity. His educated parents had high hopes for him, but college didn’t work out. When he returned home, he found work with a carpenter, Linwood Staples, who became his mentor. Working with his hands was more to his liking. Now on his own, he usually works on high-end homes. He and Willi may have been in the same class in school, but until this accident she was just another person living in the same town.

Junior Miller’s divorced parents had no ambitions for him. He loved Willi enough to marry her, but after their boy was born brain-damaged, he didn’t put any effort into their homelife. Then after he left Willi, he didn’t bother paying any child support after the first year or even be a part of his child’s life. When the book starts, Junior has a rather aimless life, driving truck for a lumberyard and crashing at his current girlfriend’s mobile home in New Hampshire.

But all of this changes that wintry day.

At the start, Miles does the right thing, leaving money for Willi and going to Cody’s funeral. But after Linwood advised him to think deeper, Miles tries to give more meaningful support. Eventually, he finds he and Willi have more in common than just this tragic accident.

Junior has a bigger challenge because of the longtime neglect of his responsibilities. His ideas of reparation at the start have little meaning to Willi, not surprising given the lousy role model his own father provided. It takes him longer to face his failings and make amends that have meaning to Willi.

These are two of the characters in Northern Comfort. As I do for all my novels, I create characters that feel real to me. I hope that’s true for you.

In this scene, Miles and Junior have a confrontation at the Bull’s Eye, the local watering hole. Junior is there with his brother, Mike.

Miles lurched forward as a hand slapped him on the back so hard his chest hit the edge of the Pine Tree’s bar.

A man’s voice said, “Hey, there, buddy, how you doin’?”

He looked into the face of Junior, who took the stool beside his. Junior’s brother Mike sat on the other side, grinning like he’d won big at cards and couldn’t wait to tell somebody. Both were high or drunk or both.

Now was the reckoning, and Miles was unsure how to proceed. It didn’t matter what he said or did, he was going to get it. Mike was heavier than Miles. He carried the weight of someone who liked booze and greasy food. Junior was short and always trying to make up for it.

Miles put down his bottle. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. He wasn’t fooled. 

Mike’s friendly comment was definitely fake. But Junior? Yeah, he, too, but he’d cut him a break. 

“I’m sorry, Junior, about what happened to Cody.”

Junior fingered the front of Miles’s shirt. “You mean hitting him with your truck?”

“That’s not the way it happened. I tried to save him.”

Junior glanced toward Mike. “That so?”

Miles nodded solemnly, but Junior snorted. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Miles. I’ve got brass balls pickin’ on you ’cause I didn’t give more to that boy or Willi. He was my blood, and I loved his mother when he was born.” Junior brought his face closer and gave Miles’s shirt a tight twist. “And another thing. I don’t want you bothering Willi no more. She’s been through enough.”

“Get your hands off me, Junior.” His voice stayed calm, although his heart had a steady pound. “If you wanna keep this going, let’s take it outside. What’s it gonna be? The both of you?”

Junior loosened his fingers.

Miles stared at one brother, then the other. When Mike made a snorting laugh, Miles gave him a quick, light shot on the shoulder. Both brothers got to their feet. He stood, too.

“I’m gonna say it again, asshole,” Junior said. “Stay away from Willi.”

Miles drew his eyes tight. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’ll listen to me if you know what’s good for you,” Junior said before he and his brother moved to another part of the bar.

Miles drank face forward. He focused on the mirror behind the three shelves of booze. Junior and Mike sat far from the mirror’s reach, but by now he didn’t care. The two brothers wouldn’t be back. They had made their point.

He finished the beer, and although he would have liked another, he fished for a buck in the front pocket of his jeans and flattened it on the bar’s top. He made a slow but straight path to the door.

Curious? Here’s the link for Northern Comfort.

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Northern Comfort

Harsh Realities in Northern Comfort

My next book, Northern Comfort, is getting oh-so-close to its July 19 release. This novel is about the harsh realities of rural life in New England.

Willi is a single mother trying to raise her young son, who was brain-damaged at birth. She had a tough childhood after her kind father died in a crash while drunk and her mother married a cruel man who abused Willi. Then she married young.

Now, Willi and Cody live in a cabin left to them by the loving grandfather who took them in after Junior Miller, the boy’s father, abandoned them. Willi’s situation is a desperate one. She’s alone, barely making it. But she’s tough and doing the best she can.

In the opening scene, Willi is home from her job cutting hair at a country beauty shop and hanging clothes on a line in her backyard. It’s the dead of winter, cold and dark, but the job has to get done. She doesn’t have a drier because she can’t afford one.

Willi tries to keep Cody close to her as she works. But then tragedy happens when the boy’s sled quickly takes him in the path of a truck driven by Miles Potter. Willi and Miles have known each other since they were kids, but until the moment her son dies, they were separated by their families’ places in town.

How Willi handles this situation demonstrates her resilience and the kindness of those living in her small town, including Miles. Then, there is Junior, who eventually faces his failings as a father.

That’s what Northern Comfort is about. It’s not the stuff for pretty postcards although I do include a lot of the hilltowns’ traditions like maple sugaring and making old-time music.

By the way, Willi is not based on anyone real. The same goes for all of the characters in this novel. Without sounding like a nut, the story and the people in it came to me as they do with the other books I write. 

Here is a scene from Northern Comfort. The chapter is called “The Buy.” Thanks to donations people gave Willi at her son’s funeral, she is able to buy boots to replace the cracked ones she has.

Willi parked her car next to a display of roof shingles poking through a snowbank outside Fisher Brothers Hardware in Penfield. The store never seemed to change, not since she was a little girl coming here with Daddy to get new works for the toilet or something else to repair their house. She sidestepped the displays of stovepipes and paint cans, the floorboards bending and squeaking beneath her feet. The last time she was here was in the fall when she bought tarpaper to wrap her house and the red sled for Cody. Today, she had two things to buy: a light shade to replace the one her boy broke and a pair of boots, if they were still on sale, as one of her customers told her.

Horace Fisher stood behind the counter, one of three brothers, who were all in their seventies and too stubborn to let the next generation take over. He smiled at Willi. Horace had an extra-long space between his thin upper lip and the bottom of his nose, a common trait among all the Fishers, who lived in Penfield even before it was officially a town centuries ago. 

“Willi, it’s been a while. How are you doing today?”

They made small talk about her errands and the winter as he directed her to the lighting section, where she pondered for several minutes on the selection of glass shades. Horace showed her an opaque shade, a white rectangle with slanted sides. But she had her eye on a round one, its surface engraved like lace, which was twice as much. A few weeks ago, she would have taken Horace’s suggestion, but now she didn’t.

“That’s a nice shade, but I like this one better. Now, I’d like to buy some boots.”

She walked behind Horace, who carried the glass shade to that part of the store. The boots stood in lines on long, wooden shelves. Willi saw a pair of insulated ones from Canada, which cost more than she expected, but they appeared the warmest. She fingered the wool felt lining, thinking of the cold wrapping around her toes whenever she stepped outside. 

Horace cleared his throat. “Well, we were running a sale last week on ladies’ boots, twenty percent off. But I was telling my brother Homer this morning we should extend it another few days. He said it was fine by him.”

She knew the man was fibbing, but it was a nice fib. She sat on a wooden stool to try on the boots. They fit right on her feet. She stretched her legs and rolled the boots on the back of their heels.

“They’re awfully nice. I’ll take them, too.”

At the counter, Horace centered the glass shade on a stack of newspapers and wrapped the sheets to pad it. He tilted his head as he eyed Willi kindly.

“I was sad to hear of your little boy’s death,” he said. “We lost a child, too, a little girl, Pearl, our next to the youngest. She drowned in an irrigation pond. My wife thought I was watching her, and I thought she was. It was such a long time ago.” He shook his head slowly. “It gets better, but you never forget. I don’t think you’re supposed to.”

Willi smiled as she gazed into the man’s eyes, a blue as light as water. Old-timers have manners, she thought, as she opened her purse to complete the purchase.

“I’m so sorry about your little girl,” she said. “Yes, it’s hard these days.”

LINK: Here’s the link to buy Northern Comfort. It’s only $2.99 for Kindle. Thank you if you do. Paperback readers will have to be a little patient.

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Northern Comfort

Only Days to Go for Northern Comfort

Northern Comfort, which has a July 19 release, is my next book set in the fictional hilltowns of Western Massachusetts. That’s only days away. Perhaps you’re wondering why I continue to choose that setting. Frankly, it’s because I have had a long fascination with the real ones. Let me explain.

After living in a number of cities, Hank and I decided a better place to raise our family would be in the country. And with the encouragement of new friends, we found ourselves moving to the town of Worthington, population around 1,200. Before the move, we checked out the town, camping in our friends’ yard. That night the sky was alive with Northern Lights, which I took as a positive sign.

We rented a funky, little house for $150 a month. Actually it was less than that for several months since we helped clean and fix up this house, which had belonged to the owner’s grandfather. Just like those Northern Lights, we got a welcome from the people who lived in town, in particular one of its largest families, the Donovans. Hank and I immersed ourselves in the town. Two of our six kids were born here. They all went to the local schools. Hank established himself as a skilled woodworker.

Eventually, we were able to buy a small piece of land and build a house, thanks to the generosity of so many people in the local construction industry who gave us great deals and even worked for free.

I got a job as a freelance reporter, a correspondent, actually, who reported on Worthington for the local newspaper, the Daily Hampshire Gazette. I covered selectboard meetings, fires, storms, accidents and other emergencies, basically anything I thought readers would want to read about. I wrote features about people and the things they did like truck pulls, hunting, farming, maple sugaring, etc. I was paid by the word.

Eventually I expanded my coverage area to two more hilltowns. 

Hank and I also enjoyed the nightlife, which meant drinking and dancing at the town’s watering hole, Liston’s. (Before that, it was the Drummer’s Club.)

As a reporter, I listened to the way people talked and how they behaved. I heard so many stories, some of which weren’t printable, but they gave me insight and inspiration. I am also grateful for the experience because it broke a 25-year writer’s block. But it wasn’t until I was hired by the same paper as an editor, that I turned my newfound writing skills into fiction. Among those is my new book, Northern Comfort.

So what’s Northern Comfort about? Willi Miller and her son are a charity case in a NE town that holds dear to the traditions of making maple syrup, playing old-time music, and keeping family secrets. They live in a cabin left to them by their grandfather, who took them in after Junior Miller abandoned them. Then, on a snowy day, Cody’s sled sends him into the path of a truck driven by Miles Potter, a man of means. Willi and Miles have known each other since they were kids, but until the moment her son dies, they are separated by their families’ places in town. 

This is a story about the haves and have nots in a small town. Over the next couple of weeks I will share more posts about the book in my attempt to entice you to buy it. As of July 19, it will be available in Kindle for $2.99. (Paperback readers will have to be patient.) My thanks if you do.

Here’s the link: https://mybook.to/northerncomfort

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