Writer Interrupted

Sixty Plus Years of Living Means Something

Topping my list of what it means is that I have known a lot of people, loving some of them in varying degrees. Each contributed, contribute still, texture and substance to the landscape of my life.

Being a mature woman at this molecular speck in time for me is liberating, restrictive, scary, safe, confusing, sad, satisfying, disillusioning. Ambiguous. I will use this blog as my motivator, my disciplinarian for writing my stories. Heaven knows, I need discipline, and perhaps this will serve me with the outlet to develop ideas and to formulate work worth reading.

As a fiction writer, it is my duty first of all to entertain, and in the process I will strive to embody through my characters some truth I am examining, some principle I want to defend, or some injustice I want to reveal. Through these individuals, their stories, perhaps I can make some sense of what living MEANS to me, unscrambling what I believe, and why. Perhaps, I might even make you laugh, cry, and ponder along with me, and I'd love to hear from you if I do.

About My Book

The Velvet Bridge is a story of a woman’s encounter with the power of fate, her subsequent choices, and the consequences. It is a story of resilience, of transition from one unexpected upheaval to the next. It is a passageway, connecting the finely sketched episodes of Mattie Featherstone’s complex, yet endearing, life.

Too young to be widowed and too pretty to be alone, Mattie Featherstone’s life runs the gamut of extremes. Following the accidental death of her husband in 1941, the disillusioned mother begins frequenting the honky tonks of West Dallas, soliciting men (mostly draft rejects). As WWII rages, amidst abject poverty and on a downward spiral, she abandons her two young daughters, Judith and Edith Kay. On a bitter, snowy day in 1943, Mattie seeks respite in a campsite for the homeless, a tent city along the Trinity River. When a chance encounter offers her a way out, she grabs it.

At a bus stop café as the war closes, Mattie meets future husband, Max Caliber, a conflicted soldier estranged from his high-powered Houston parents. The next day, Mattie’s shocking arrest for murder temporarily halts their love affair and attracts the attention of all who know, or ever knew, her.
Colorful characters embody and define the diverse 1940’s culture of a nation grinding its gears and stoking its engines.

While The Velvet Bridge lays bare the cruel indifference of Fate, giving immunity to none, it is a testimony to the power of intervention by gentle strangers.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Story in progress. . .

Anna lifted her tear-stained face, her attention drawn to the approaching car. She remained seated there on the ground as the car came to a stop a few feet away. A pretty, well-dressed lady, the lone occupant of the shiny black Ford, came to stand in front of Anna, looking kindly into her red, swollen eyes. "What troubles you, my dear?" Anna saw the woman glance away, toward the children on the porch. "Would you like to talk about it?" The pretty lady asked, her voice soft, gentle. Her eyes fell to the letter in Anna's lap.

Anna wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and attempted to smooth her tangled hair, becoming self-conscious in the company of such a fine lady. She started to stand, but the lady stopped her, and sat down next to her on the ground, waiting for Anna to speak. Anna could smell her expensive perfume.

Anna handed her the letter. "Tomorrow is the third day."

The lady read quickly, and placed the letter back in Anna's lap. "Well, then, my dear, you have work to do! No time to sit here fretting, worrying. That never solves anything!"

"I don't know what to do!" Anna wailed, a new batch of tears gushing down her cheeks. "My husband hasn't worked in months, I have no money, and now he is gone, who knows where!"

"Your children are depending on you," the lady said. "Their home is at risk here, so you must gather your bearings, your strength, and your pride. You will be surprised what you can do!"

Anna noticed for the first time that the yellow jonquils along the driveway had bloomed over night. She signed deeply, and turned her head to look directly into the other woman's pretty face.

"What would you be doing under normal circumstances, had none of this befallen you?" The lady asked. "Take stock of all your resources, Anna, and use them to save your family." The lady stood, brushing away the dried grass from the back of her lovely blue dress. "Be strong, Anna."

Anna sat there on the ground for a minute longer, watching the visitor drive away. Then she pushed herself up, brushed off her hands, and went to her children on the porch.

To be continued. . .