Musings & Thoughts for Sunday, January 21, 2024, or: Weekend Update, Part the Second (Writer’s Holiday Edition)

Mid-to-Late Morning, Sunday, January 21, 2024, Madison, New Hampshire

Greetings, folks!

It’s almost 9 AM EST here in my corner of New England on another wintry Sunday morning. This being late January in the Northeast, it’s quite cold outside: the current temperature is 14°F (-10°C) under mostly sunny conditions. The feels-like temperature is 23°F (-5°C). Today’s forecast calls for mostly sunny skies and a high of 24°F (-4°C); tonight, skies will be mostly clear. The low will be -4°F (-20°C).

Weekend Update, Part the Second: How I Spent My Saturday

Although I was tempted to work on Reunion: Coda before the cloud-shrouded sun sank beneath the western horizon, I managed to stick to my normal weekend routine, such as it is. I didn’t leave my office to watch a movie in my bedroom or read a book on the living room couch. Instead, I did what I used to do in Florida before the Big Move North – I killed time on Facebook, listened to some standards, movie soundtracks, and light classical music on my Amazon Music app, and played Regiments for about an hour.

After that? I ate a modest but filling dinner, puttered about the Internet till it was almost 10 PM, then went to bed and watched ­– or tried to watch, cos I fell asleep halfway into the episode – Part Three (“Global War”) of The First World War on DVD.

On Writing & Storytelling: Thinking Forward, Looking Back

Although I didn’t write any fresh copy or make major revisions yesterday, I did give a great deal of thought to what will happen in the novel after I finish the epistolary chapter – “The One with the Emails” – sometime in the not-too-distant future. At first, I thought I’d revisit Jim’s high school years one last time, then wrap up Jim and Maddie’s Present Day (2000) in what I hope will be a satisfying conclusion.

Now, I want to add just a bit of dramatic tension to the story before I get to the climax of the Jim-and-Maddie story arc, and even though I had one decent story idea for that, I changed my mind and decided to go in a different direction that still adds the “dramatic tension” but without the complications inherent in my original scenario.

(I hate having to be so vague about my “authorial intentions,” but if I give away all of Reunion: Coda’s twists and turns in my blog for free, I might as well forget about publishing it on Amazon and just serialize it on A Certain Point of View, Too. So….)

In the past, I have shared parts of Reunion: Coda on this blog to (a) give non-writers a feel for the creative process and (b) generate excitement among fans of the first installment of the Reunion Duology for the second. I’ve tried to do so in a way that gives readers a taste of Reunion: Coda without giving away too much of the novel and thereby take away any incentive for people to buy the novel (which, as I’ve often remarked, is my first) when it is finally released.

I’m going to share an excerpt from Reunion: Coda – the introduction of Maddie, in fact – in case you are new to this blog and its behind-the-scenes look at the novel. I probably shared it before, when I still lived in Florida and was hoping to publish the novel in December 2023, but it’s one of my favorite parts of Reunion: Coda, so…here goes:

Enter Maddie

It’s noisy here. Then again, big city nightclubs aren’t supposed to be quiet. Especially on a Friday night. And especially when they’re the new hotspot in the “city that doesn’t sleep.”

Take the Moonglow nightclub, for instance.

I’m nursing a beer at the Moonglow, an old-school joint in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood. The place is decked out with relics from the Second World War – flags, helmets, propaganda posters. The walls scream out warnings from another time: “Loose Lips Sink Ships” and “The Man Who Relaxes is Helping the Axis.” The tables are a mishmash of wood and metal, cluttered with antique radios and telephones. Swing music and the murmur of conversation fill the air.

The Swinging Millers are taking five, but the music never stops. A tinny recording of “Moonlight Serenade” drifts from the speakers. It’s Friday night and I need to unwind from the pressure of being a semi-renowned World War II historian. I’ve penned a few books on the subject and I’m always in demand for lectures and interviews. Some folks liken me to a “young Stephen Ambrose,” but I’m not that well-known. Only hardcore history buffs would give me a second glance on the street.

I also hold down a gig at Columbia University, where I impart my knowledge to hundreds of eager minds. I enjoy passing on my passion for history, but there’s never enough time to really connect with my students. My research and writing keep me busy.

I glance at the bottle of Heineken in my hand, feeling the chill of the condensation on my fingers. It’s a new nightclub, and I’m curious to see what it’s like. I’m not really here to hook up, but I wouldn’t mind some company. Maybe someone who shares my passion for history. Someone who appreciates the stories behind the facts. Someone who can make me laugh and think at the same time.

That’s when I hear her voice. “Excuse me,” she says, “is this seat taken?”

Her accent is refined and elegant, like a cross between FDR and a British aristocrat. I swivel around and there she is, clutching a bag stuffed with books from Book Culture – that quaint little bookstore on Broadway. Her hair is the color of caramel, and her eyes are a deep hazel. She’s wearing a sky-blue dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. She’s breathtaking.

And she’s a complete stranger.

But something about her reminds me of someone I used to know.

As she steps closer, I catch a whiff of her perfume – jasmine and orange blossom – delicate and exotic yet somehow familiar. That scent…I remember it from…South Miami?

I shake my head and dismiss the thought almost as soon as it flashes into my brain. Take it easy, Jim, I chide myself. That’s just the beer talking.

A jolt of attraction and curiosity hits me like a freight train. Who is she? What brings her here? Does she know who I am? Is she interested?

“Is this seat taken?” she asks again, shifting the heavy bag of books in her arms. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to put this down before I drop it. It’s a hazard, you know. Someone could trip over it and get hurt.” She smiles politely, but I can tell she’s not used to being ignored. Her voice is crisp and confident, with a touch of FDR’s patrician accent mixed with the late Princess Diana’s. I snap out of my trance and gesture at the chair across from me. “Sorry, no, it’s not. Please, sit down.”

She nods her thanks and slides into the chair with grace. She looks down at the floor to check if it’s not wet, sticky, or worse, then places the bag of books under the table, making sure it’s out of the way. She looks around the crowded nightclub with curiosity and excitement. She seems like a fish out of water in this place, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She turns her attention back to me and smiles again. “So,” she says, “what brings you here?

“I’m here for the music,” I say, shrugging. “I love the Big Band era. Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Duke Ellington, Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman… They don’t make them like that anymore.” I point at the stage where the Swinging Millers are about to resume their performance. “And this place has a great vibe. It’s called Moonglow, after all.”

She meets my gaze and smiles. “It does,” she says.

“You’re a swing fan, too?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” she says. “I prefer classical music, but I’m not picky about genres. It depends on my mood, really.”

“I enjoy classical music as well. Beethoven is my favorite, but I also like Bizet, Albeniz, Rodrigo, and Brahms.”

“Those are some of my favorite composers. Who else do you like?”

I hum a few bars of a familiar melody, tapping my fingers on the table. The Moonglow is buzzing with chatter and laughter, but I don’t mind. I like the atmosphere. I look at her and see a spark in her eyes. She knows the tune.

“Mozart, right?” she says, leaning in. “The flute and harp concerto?”

I nod, impressed by her musical knowledge. “You have a good ear,” I say, grinning. “It’s one of my favorites.”

She grins back and tilts her head slightly. “Mine too,” she says softly. “It’s so beautiful and romantic.”

I scan the room for a waitress, feeling a bit thirsty. I spot one carrying a tray of drinks and wave her over. She comes to our table and smiles politely.

“What can I get you?” she asks. She hands each of us a drinks menu.

“Yes, please. I’ll have another Heineken,” I say. Then I turn to the woman in the sky-blue dress across the table from me and say, “What about you? Do you want something to drink?”

She looks at the menu and says, “I’m not sure. It’s my first time here at the Moonglow. What do you recommend?”

I shrug and say, “Why don’t you ask the waitress? She probably knows the best cocktails here.”

She nods and says to the waitress, “What’s your favorite cocktail here?”

The waitress thinks for a moment and says, “Well, I really like the Sidecar. It’s a great cocktail. It has cognac, orange liqueur, and lemon juice. It’s sweet and tangy and very refreshing.”

She smiles and says, “That sounds good. I’ll have a Sidecar then.”

The waitress says, “Okay, one Heineken and one Sidecar coming right up.” She takes my empty bottle and walks away.

I lean in and say to the woman, “The drink is on me, by the way.”

She looks at me with gratitude and says, “Thank you for the drink. That’s very kind of you.”

“My pleasure,” I say, feeling a bit awkward. I realize I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I clear my throat and say, “By the way, I’m Jim. Jim Garra…” I stop myself before I say my full last name. I don’t want to reveal too much about myself. Not yet.

She gives me a quick look like she knows something I don’t. But she quickly recovers and smiles sweetly. “Madison,” she says. “But my friends call me Maddie.”

That’s All, Folks….

As for my Sunday plans? It’s still late morning here, and I have not made a final decision, but knowing me, I’ll probably stick to my usual weekend routine, so it will neither be too dull or too exciting. If I get too antsy or find myself getting into a funk, I might work on the novel. I’d rather rest, but I know my moods. If they slide toward the Dark Side, editing, revising, or even writing another email for Chapter 12 might alleviate my tendency to get sad or frustrated.

I do need to put on my snow boots, winter coat, gloves, hat, and perhaps even a scarf so I can get my daily dose of New Hampshire sunshine, so I’ll close my 1,404^th post here. See you around, friends!