The First Look at Mamie

Every writer has a novel.  Mine is about Mamie.  She has followed me around since my sons were boys.  I began to research her backstory at a kitchen table in Cudahy when I interviewed Irene.  Funny, but it was Thorp Irene described when I asked what a small town would look like. 

After looking at the scraps of Mamie's life that fill notebooks and pages and random swirls of research, I think the reason her story hasn't yet been told is because I'm afraid once her story is in the great big world, no one will read it.

Now, her story is my secret to enjoy.  Every now and again, I take her out of the red binder and add something to her experience, her steps, her world.

When the novel is public, her story will be criticized, judged, panned and discussed.  People will read into her story their own ideas.  They will react, or not, based on what they know.  


So I've decided to test the waters a little.  Sprinkle some phrases into the universe to see what readers might think.  This is a bit from the winter chapter.

She awoke one winter morning earlier than she should have.  Looking out at the pre-dawn chill, she thought of all the seasons that had gone before.  Spring with its unending promise beckoning her to grow.  Summer’s long lazy days pushing her to keep in motion, keep going, keep doing, stop thinking.  Autumn’s spiraling decisions made causing whirlwinds of life to spin beyond her reach.  And now winter.  Quiet, cold, dark days closed inside like a package waiting to be opened.  Mamie didn’t fear winter or shirk away from its closeness.  Rather, she enjoyed the days of solitude and rest.  The tightening from inside, the layers of protection.  

Mamie thought that winter would keep her safe from the outside.  She expected that no one would look far enough inside to see where she really was.  She was wrong.

So.  What do you think?  Want to know more about Mamie?

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