Writing Exercises for Reunion: Coda

Monday, April 1, 2024

What does your hero say the first time he sees the heroine naked?

“As a historian, I’ve always believed it’s the unseen details that hold the true essence of beauty. Now, standing before you, I realize some histories are felt rather than told.”

And this is how Maddie might reply:

“In the symphony of my life, you’ve been, as of late, the crescendo, Jim. And now, you’ve left me utterly breathless.”

Tuesday, April 2, 2024

Describe what your hero is wearing when your heroine first sees him.

Jim is a professor of history at Columbia University and an up-and-coming author of non-fiction books about military history (especially focusing on World War II). At the novel’s beginning, he’s at a new nightclub in Williamsburg (Brooklyn) called the Moonglow. It’s Friday night, and even though I don’t delve into it much in the book, we can safely assume that Jim went to his apartment in midtown Manhattan after work, showered, shaved, and chose a nice suit to fit in with the club’s 1940s theme.

Based on this assumption, Jim is wearing a gray tweed herringbone suit (pants, vest, and a single-breasted jacket), a white shirt, a red tie with a gold tiepin, brown shoes, and a matching belt. He also wears a replica of Indiana Jones’ brown felt snap-brim fedora.  

How do you describe your heroine when your hero first sees her?

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 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. – from Reunion: Coda

Wednesday, April 3, 2024

Describe your heroine’s physical characteristics without having her look in the mirror.

Because Reunion: Coda is a novel set in two different stages of the protagonist/narrator’s life, there are two female leads: Marty and Maddie. Marty is the 1980s-era one, while Maddie is the Present Day (2000) “heroine.”

Let’s go for Maddie, shall we?

Maddie is a woman whose beauty is both striking and subtle. She possesses a heart-shaped face, the soft contours of her cheeks tapering to a delicate chin. Her hazel eyes, framed by arched brows, are windows to her soul, expressive and vibrant. A mane of chestnut hair falls in a cascade of loose waves, brushing her shoulders with a gentle grace. Her lips, reminiscent of a Gibson girl’s, are neither too full nor too thin, but perfectly shaped for a smile that lights up her face. Her neck is slender, leading to shoulders that carry an air of confidence. Maddie’s physique is toned, the result of regular exercise, yet retains a natural softness. Her fingers are long and delicate, the hands of a pianist, with a touch as gentle as her voice. In her posture and presence, there is a balance of strength and femininity, a harmony that captures the essence of her character.

Thursday, April 4, 2024

Does your character have an academic interest? Did they go to college, and if so, what did they study? What draws them to this subject?

My protagonist/narrator, James K. Garraty (Jim/Jimmy) is a professor of history at Columbia University. His area of expertise is 20th-century military history, with a special focus on the Second World War. He earned a full scholarship to study history at Harvard in the early 1980s, and he has taught at Harvard and Oxford University. I haven’t mentioned his motivations in either Reunion: A Story or Reunion: Coda, but I think Jim became fascinated with history while trying to understand why the U.S. got involved in Vietnam – a “lost crusade” in which his father, an Army helicopter pilot, was killed.

Friday, April 5, 2024

What role does money play in your story? How does it impact your characters? Is it a subject that causes conflict, and if so, how?

Money doesn’t play much of a role in the Reunion duology. None of the two stories in it are your run-of-the-mill romance novels, so that trope of “wealthy character loves working class character” isn’t a “thing,” especially in Reunion: Coda. Jim is a history professor and best-selling author, so he definitely makes over $100,000 a year. Maddie (his 2000 era love interest) is a professional musician who plays the piano with the New York Philharmonic. She probably makes less than Jim, but this doesn’t cause any dramatic tension between them.

Monday, April 8, 2024

What is the first line of dialogue in your novel? Who is speaking?

In the Prologue to Reunion: Coda there are several instances where my narrator/protagonist uses indirect quotes to highlight several cliches that he (and I) think are trite and annoying, including Everything happens for a reason and Time heals all wounds.

However, the first line of character-to-character appears in Scene 3 of the Prologue. It’s “Are you going to be okay, Jim?”  It is spoken by Jim Garraty’s best friend, Mark Prieto, in a scene set less than 20 minutes after the last South Miami Senior High School scene in Book 1 of the Reunion Duology.

Here’s the entire scene for context:

3

The Last Afterschool Walk Home

This is a story I don’t tell often; I’m a private man, and I don’t like to spill my guts about my love life, or lack thereof. I’m fine with talking in front of a crowd – whether it’s my history students at Columbia University or the folks who come to hear me read from my latest World War II book at the bookstore. But when it comes to the women who have broken my heart, or the one who never knew she had it, I keep that to myself.

The only other person – besides you, now – who knows the truth about the letter and what I did with it and why is my best friend, Mark Prieto.

Mark wasn’t there that day in June of ’83 when I met Marty for the last time in the chorus room at South Miami High School. I don’t know what would have happened if he had walked in on us, on me and the girl I loved more than anything but was too chicken to tell her. But I know Mark, he’s been like a brother to me since we were kids at Kinloch Park Elementary, and he would have done something. He would have tried to make me confess my feelings to her before it was too late.

But I was young and dumb, scared of my feelings, still hurting from Kathy – she had dumped me three years before, and I still hadn’t gotten over it – and I had let the whole year slip by without making a move on Marty. And then there we were, alone in the chorus room – Room 136, I still remember the number on my schedule – and we kissed. It was the first and last time we ever did. And I knew I had screwed up. I had set myself up for a fall. No one – not Mark, not Marty, not even God – could have saved me from the mess I had made of my own heart.

I can still see it in my mind, even after 20 years. South Miami High, that canary yellow bunker on the corner of Southwest 53rd Street and Southwest 68th Avenue. It was a short walk from the house where I lived with my mom, Sarah Garraty, ever since my dad died in the early years of America’s lost crusade in South Vietnam. I didn’t need a bike or a car to get there. It was close enough to smell the cafeteria food and hear the bell ring. It was a warehouse for 2100 kids and 150 grown-ups, as one of the Cobras joked once. It was built in 1971, when the world was going crazy with wars and scandals and generational strife. It had three floors of classrooms, chemistry labs, a library, a student publications room, a Little Theater for the drama classes, an auditorium for the various choirs, and walls lined with rows of lockers. It was a place full of secrets and surprises. It was where life happened, for better or worse.

Mark walked with me that day, our last day of high school. He didn’t say much. He knew I was hurting. He knew I was losing Marty, and that I was feeling downright shitty about it. She was leaving for London with her family after graduation. She would be gone for the whole summer, maybe forever. I would be gone too, heading north to Harvard, to start a new life without her. Mark knew all that, but he didn’t say anything. He just walked with me, like a true friend.

Mark and I stood in front of his house, half a block away from mine. We had walked from school in silence – for the last time, my brain kept reminding me. We had already said everything that needed to be said about “the thing with Marty” and the letter. Mark would never admit it, but he was just as sad as I was that our carefree youth had come to an end. We were known in school as the Twins from Different Families because we had been best friends since fifth grade. Now, we would probably not see each other for a long time once I left Miami for the chilly embrace of Cambridge.

As we stood on the sidewalk, just a few yards away from his front porch, Mark finally broke the silence. “Are you going to be okay, Jim?” His blue eyes, usually sparkling with wit or wisdom, were now a dimmer shade of grey-blue – a sure sign that Mark was truly worried or sad.

I sighed. “Yeah,” I said unconvincingly. “I’ll be okay, pal.”

Mark pointed in the direction of my house. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to your front door? It’s no problem.”

“What are you now, my dad?” I replied with a half-hearted chuckle. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I live in Westchester or Sweetwater, bucko. I’ll probably go straight to my room and crash – I didn’t sleep much last night and I’ve been up since 6:30. I’m bushed.”

Mark grinned. “You sure it’s not because you’re afraid of running into that crazy cat lady next door?”

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, Mark. But no, I think I can handle Mrs. Finklestein and her army of felines.”

We both burst out laughing – it was the first time we had genuinely laughed since that final bell rang at 2:30 PM, signaling the end of our school days. But as the moment faded into the past, our smiles slowly turned into quiet sobriety.

“Well, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Mark said in a subdued voice. “But if you need to talk….”

“I got your digits,” I replied.

I turned and started walking towards my house when Mark called out, “Hey, Jim!”

I stopped and turned around. “What’s up?”

“May the Force be with you,” Mark said, making his best Han Solo impression.

I laughed and flipped him the bird over my shoulder before continuing down the sun-drenched sidewalk towards home.

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Describe the first kiss between your characters, including the situation leading up to it and how they react after it’s over.

John F. Kennedy International Airport, Arrivals Terminal, 2:35 PM EST

I’m at JFK, the arrivals terminal humming with the energy of a city that never sleeps. It’s a Friday afternoon, and the place is buzzing like a nightclub, but instead of music and laughter, it’s filled with the sounds of greetings and goodbyes. I’m here waiting for Maddie, my heart racing a bit as I glance at the clock. Her flight, British Airways BA-175, was due at 1:45 PM, but it’s running late. Headwinds over the Atlantic, they said.

I taught my Intro to WWII class at Columbia this morning at 9:00, and Henry Townsend, bless him, arranged for a TA to cover my afternoon sessions. I rarely drive in Manhattan, but today I made an exception. I pulled my ’95 Acura out of the garage, where I shell out more than I’d care to admit each month, and hit the road around 10:30 AM. The traffic was a nightmare, made worse by a fender bender somewhere on FDR Drive, between midtown Manhattan and here.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with the day’s New York Times, but the headlines are just a blur. NASDAQ’s record high, a bomb in Sri Lanka killing 18—none of it registers. All I can think about is Maddie, jet lag, and whether she’ll be up for watching The English Patient tonight.

To kill time, I wandered into the duty-free and picked up the latest Tom Clancy paperback, The Bear and the Dragon. Now, I’m nursing my third cup of coffee from Starbucks, trying to lose myself in Clancy’s world of espionage and military fiction, but it’s no use.

Then, out of nowhere, I hear her voice, that British accent cutting through the noise, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I look up, and there she is. Maddie, in a red dress cinched with a black belt, knee-high black boots, and that wide-brimmed red hat she loves. She’s got a wheeled suitcase and a carry-on slung over her shoulder. She’s here, and suddenly, the wait is worth it.

The Clancy novel slips from my fingers, thudding against the Starbucks’ tiled floor, but I barely notice. I’m on my feet in an instant, my Indy fedora almost taking flight from the sudden movement. It doesn’t, though, and it ends up askew, covering my left eye. Maddie’s giggle is a silver bell in the airport’s cacophony. I can’t help but grin as I adjust the hat, channeling my inner Harrison Ford with a rakish tilt.

Time seems to stand still as we lock eyes. There’s so much we could say—mundane pleasantries, polite inquiries—but none of that matters now. We’re reading each other’s faces, searching for the stories written there since our last goodbye. Maddie’s beauty is as striking as ever, her heart-shaped face a canvas of soft contours and delicate lines. Her hazel eyes, vibrant even in her fatigue, are alive with the stories she’s yet to tell me. Chestnut waves frame her face, and her lips, oh her lips—they’re a perfect bow, the kind that would inspire poets and artists alike.

She looks every bit the English rose I remember, yet there’s a hint of weariness around her eyes—a subtle testament to the miles she’s crossed to get here. But when our gazes meet, all signs of tiredness seem to vanish, replaced by a spark that’s all too familiar.

Without a word, we step into each other’s arms, and the world around us fades into a hush. Our kiss is a revelation, a tender collision of longing and relief. Maddie surprises me with a bold and passionate French kiss, yet the softness of her lips, the faint taste of wine, and the scent of her perfume envelop me. It’s a kiss that speaks of missed moments and the promise of those to come. Our hats tumble to the ground, forgotten, as we’re lost in the warmth of our embrace, the gentle hum of the airport fading into the background.

A passerby’s gruff voice cuts through the moment, “Get a room, why don’t you!” But we barely hear it. We’re too wrapped up in the rediscovery of each other, in a kiss that feels like coming home.

Our laughter mingles, a shared melody that softens the edges of the bustling terminal. Maddie’s playful defiance shines as she sends a cheeky gesture to the retreating New Yorker, her spirit undimmed by his rudeness. Then, she turns back to me, her eyes alight with affection, and our lips meet again. This kiss is gentler, a tender reaffirmation of our connection.

“I missed you, Professor Garraty,” Maddie whispers, her voice a soothing balm to the chaos of my day. I straighten up, balancing the Tom Clancy novel awkwardly under my arm as I gather our fallen hats. With a reverence that feels almost sacred, I place the wide-brimmed red hat atop her head, adjusting it with care.

Her smile is gratitude and love interwoven. “Thanks for coming all the way out here to fetch me,” she says, her words wrapping around me like a warm embrace. In this moment, with her standing before me, every mile driven and every minute waited feels utterly worthwhile. – Reunion: Coda, Chapter 14

Tuesday, April 9, 2024 (Redux)

“Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific!”

How a character smells says a lot about them. List the first three scents that come to mind when thinking of your hero. Now describe your heroine using another three scents.

Jim Garraty:

1. Old Spice After Shave: A classic scent that suggests a traditional and masculine charm.

2. Leather: Evokes a sense of scholarly gravitas and sophistication, hinting at a life surrounded by books and academia.

3. Aged Paper: The musty aroma of old books aligns with his profession as a history professor, suggesting a lifetime spent in libraries.

Maddie:

1. Herbal Essence Shampoo: A modern, clean scent that reflects her personal care routine.

2. Perfume (Orange Blossoms and Jasmine): A blend that suggests a warm, inviting, and slightly exotic personality.

3. Green Tea: Represents her vibrant and spirited nature with its fresh and invigorating aroma.

These scents help to build a sensory profile for each character, adding depth and relatability to their personas. 🌿📚

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

List five character strengths for your heroine.

Maddie’s Strengths:

1. Intelligent
2. Talented
3. Kind/Generous
4. Determined
5. Witty

Now list five character flaws.

Maddie’s Weaknesses:

1. Impulsive
2. Can be unnecessarily stubborn at times
3. Is sometimes devious
4. Some sibling rivalry issues
5. Pushes herself too hard when she doesn’t need to

Wednesday, April 10, 2024 (Redux)

Where do your characters live and how does it influence the story? Do they live in a city and meet at a bar? Do they live on a ranch and ride horses?

In both timelines of Reunion: Coda, the characters (Jim, Marty, Mark, and Maddie, as well as the supporting “cast” members) all live, work, or study in large metro areas. 1980s high school-age Jim, his high school crush Martina (aka Marty), and his best pal Mark live near the South Miami High campus. Jim and Mark live on the same block; Marty and her family live several blocks away. In 2000, Jim teaches history at Columbia University and writes books on the subject in New York City, while Maddie is a pianist with the New York Philharmonic. He lives in midtown Manhattan; she lives in Jamaica Heights, Queens.  

And, of course, they meet at a ritzy WWII-themed nightclub called the Moonglow.

2

“You Haven’t Even Asked Me to Dance Yet”

Maddie and I finish our drinks and watch the dance floor from our table at the nightclub, a spacious area cordoned off by velvet ropes and flashing lights.  The smooth, shiny floor reflects the smiling faces of the happy dancers. Every so often, there are gold or silver-hued flashes as light bounces from a watch or bracelet. A stage at one end of the floor holds a band, where a dozen musicians in matching suits and hats are getting ready to play their instruments. A microphone stands in front of the stage, waiting for the voice of the emcee.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome back to the Moonglow Club!” The emcee’s voice rings out over the speakers, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd. He is a tall, skinny man with slicked-back hair and a thin mustache, dressed in a tuxedo and a bow tie. He talks with a fast-paced, nasal accent that reminds me of a Walter Winchell-type radio announcer from the 1940s. “We have a special treat for you tonight, a swingin’ sensation that will make you groove and move, the Swinging Millers!” He points to the band behind him, who wave and grin. “They’re going to play some more of your favorite tunes from the golden age of swing, so get ready to boogie and have some fun! And now, without further ado, let’s give it up for the Swinging Millers!”

The emcee steps aside as the band starts playing “In the Mood”, a classic swing song that fills the air with energy and excitement. The dancers pair up and move to the beat, spinning and twirling on the dance floor. The emcee watches from the side, clapping his hands and nodding his head. He waits for the song to end before he goes back to the microphone.

“What a wonderful performance by the Swinging Millers! Let’s hear it for them!” He encourages more applause from the crowd. “And they’re not done yet, folks. They have two more songs for you tonight, two more gems from the swing era that will make you swoon and sway. First up, we have a sweet and sentimental tune that will melt your heart, “Little Brown Jug”. And then, we have a romantic ballad that will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”. So, grab your partner and get ready for some more swingin’ fun with the Swinging Millers!” He steps back again as the band begins playing “Little Brown Jug”, a cheerful song that contrasts with the earlier one. The dancers change their pace and style accordingly, enjoying the variety of music.

I glance at Maddie and see that she has a flush on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. She looks at me and smiles. Then she says, “Do you want to dance?”

“To ‘Little Brown Jug’?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “All you’ll get is your toes being stepped on – constantly. The rhythm is a bit too fast for me, I think.”

Maddie’s smile fades, as if a passing cloud had eclipsed the moon over Manhattan. The spark in her hazel eyes dims a bit as well. “Party pooper.”

“No, no. I’m just trying to save your toes from going home tonight all sore. They used to call me ‘Two Left Feet Jim’ in school.”

For some reason, Maddie finds that nickname amusing, and her smile, that bright, self-confident smile, returns – but not quite reaching her eyes. A trick of the lighting in the Moonglow, perhaps, or maybe it’s the two Heinekens I’ve consumed talking. But for a second there, I sense that odd feeling that characters in Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett stories get when they get a visit from mysterious dames at their offices late at night.

“You? Danced in school?”

I shrug. “Yep.”

She laughs, half amused, half skeptical. “College? Or high school?”

 “College. I was too much of a high school – “

“Nerd?” she finishes for me, and I’m not sure if she’s being cute or if she was the type of girl in high school that looked down on boys like me – the grades-before-all-else, shy, and awkward guys usually depicted in the movies as uncool, comic relief characters who play second fiddle to the jocks and bad boys on campus.

I gaze at her, looking for any sign of disdain in her expression. There’s none.

“Yeah, you could say that. No, I took dance classes in college. Mom insisted. She said it would be good for me. You know, to socialize. And be a bit physically active.”

“I see,” she says, her distinctive patrician accent that is somehow fitting in this World War II-era themed nightclub a tad more pronounced thanks to that Sidecar she’s been drinking. Her eyelids droop a bit, like shades being dropped to conceal – something. “Mothers know best, after all.” She pauses a second, then her expression morphs back to inquisitiveness. “Where did you go to college?”

I look away from Maddie. I like her, I really do. But I don’t want to reveal too much about my past yet. I didn’t even tell her what I do for a living. It’s not that I’m ashamed of being a professor of history at Columbia or that my latest book was just published. I just want her to like me for who I am, not because I’m a B-list celebrity in my field.