On Writing and Storytelling: An Excerpt from ‘Reunion: Coda’

Friday, September 4, 2026 – Orlando, Florida

It’s midafternoon on the first Friday of autumn 2026, but here in Central Florida, it still feels like high summer. As I write, it’s 93°F (34°C) under mostly cloudy skies, though the sun was blazing earlier. With humidity at a sticky 62% and a south wind at 8 MPH (12 Km/H), the heat index has climbed to a scorching 103°F (40°C). We may get brief relief later this afternoon, with scattered light rain showers forecast around 3 PM. I hope the forecast is right—and that those “light rain showers” don’t turn into thunderstorms, as they often have during my years in Florida. For now, I’m staying indoors and hoping for the best. I don’t mind rain, but I hate thunderstorms.

I’d like to share an excerpt from my novel, Reunion: Coda. It captures a moment from Jim Garraty’s first year at South Miami Senior High, just before he meets the girl who will transform his adolescent emotional landscape. The scene is partly drawn from personal experience: I was also late to homeroom on the first day back from winter break after joining Men’s Chorus and changing my first-period class.

Late to Homeroom

7:45 AM

I was late for homeroom. Mrs. Brillenstein didn’t like that. She was a young-looking woman, maybe in her early thirties, with long auburn hair and big brown eyes that could be friendly or fierce, depending on her mood. She taught English 2, Regular, and drama in Room 230, which was also known as the Little Theater. It had a small stage and rows of seats that curved around it like a horseshoe. It was a cool place to hang out, but not when Mrs. Brillenstein was mad at you.

The first time I met her, the day I started 10^th grade, I thought she was a student. She was sitting behind the desk, reading a book, and I walked up to her and asked, “Do you know when Mrs. Brillenstein will get here?”

She looked up at me with a blank expression and said, “You’re talking to her, Mr…?” She waited for me to say my name.

I felt my face turn red. “Oh…you’re Mrs. Brillenstein! I thought you were…oh. I’m sorry.”

She stared at me for a second, then smiled slightly. “That’s okay. First day of high school jitters. I remember those. You’re in my homeroom, right?”

She took the postcard I had in my hand and checked it against her roll sheet. Then she handed it back to me and said, “Take a seat, please, Mr. Garraty.”

I still laugh at myself for that blunder. But not when Mrs. Brillenstein was mad at me. Like she had almost been on the morning that I signed up for chorus class.

Mrs. Brillenstein gave me a look that said she was not happy to see me. I was 20 minutes late for homeroom, and it was the first day back from winter break. I had a good excuse, though. I had been to see Mrs. Quincy and my guidance counselor, and they had changed my schedule. They gave me some papers to prove it.

“Boys’ Chorus?” Mrs. Brillenstein said, raising her eyebrows. She looked at my new schedule and then at me. She had a twinkle in her eye that made me nervous. “You want to be a singer, Mr. Garraty? Have you ever thought about taking Drama I?”

I shook my head. “No way, Mrs. B,” I said, taking my papers back from her. “I can’t act to save my life.”

She smiled at me. She had a nice smile, but it didn’t make me feel any better. She looked like she could be one of us, not a teacher. She dressed like a student, too, but in a classy way. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Garraty,” she said softly. “You might have some hidden talents you don’t know about.” She paused and then said in a louder voice, “You’re lucky you didn’t lose those papers on your way here. I was about to mark you absent. Now go sit down – I have some announcements to make before you go to your first class.”