First-Page Post! (#2)

I've been slacking on the blog writing lately... but with good reason. Rather than get into the reasons right now (they have to do with art and writing and teaching -- all good, nothing bad), I've made a goal for myself to post a blog every day this week. Let's see if I can do it.

Because it's already ten o'clock, and because I'm really invested in watching the most recent episode of The Company You Keep, today's post is the first page of something I've written. Remember the rules:

1. You don't get to know which book it's from.

2. The content may change between now and publication.

With that being said, here's the opening page of a novel that's near and dear to my heart. (I dare say the nearest and the dearest...)

There’s something magical about October. It sweeps into Boston on one giant gust, causing calendar pages to flutter as it filters down back roads, a crisp breeze laced with bonfires, baked apples, and slightly burnt pumpkin seeds. Leaves change from green to yellow to brown overnight. They release their grips on gnarled branches and float-tumble-fall to the ground, scuttle-stepping across pavement like fast-walking crabs. Toothy-grinned jack-o-lanterns suddenly occupy doorsteps; silky spider webs stretch between posts of wrought iron rails while plastic arachnids cling to their satiny threads. For no apparent reason, children crave the chalky texture of candy corn.

Sebastian Porter, holding a cup of coffee with one hand and a guitar case with the other, inhales a great gulp of the chilled air, filling his lungs. He isn’t thinking about Halloween; his thoughts are not on witches or ghouls or vampires with glow-in-the-dark fangs. It is nine o’clock in the morning on the first of October and he still has nearly thirty-one days before he’ll be expected to come up with a costume of some sort. Whatever he opts for will be simple and not the least bit embarrassing. His roommate will be disappointed (as usual), but dressing up has never been Sebastian’s thing. Not since high school has he donned ridiculous face paint and garb, and only then did he agree to it because of a girl. He’d allowed her to make him up as a clown with oversized shoes and an absurdly large nose; he’d reluctantly donned a leopard-print toga and had his hair teased to resemble Tarzan.

He’d even neglected to put up a fight when she’d handed him a pair of taupe-colored footed pajamas, complete with a homemade yarn-rimmed hood to serve as the unruly mane. He hadn’t complained when she’d shaded his face with hues of orange or drawn whiskers on his cheeks and an upside-down triangle on his nose, because it had been his duty to portray the Cowardly Lion that year. “And I’ll be the Scarecrow, and Bert can go as the Tin Man,” she’d rationalized. “It’ll be fun!”

Bert, not surprisingly, hadn’t minded that his costume of spray-painted cardboard had prevented him from sitting down. He hadn’t been at all bothered by the fact that his hands and face had been smeared with silver. Halloween was always his favorite holiday; it still is.

They’d been in high school that year—had in fact probably been too old to go trick-or-treating—but all three had meandered through the neighborhood and collected candy in a basket that should have been carried by Dorothy. “She couldn’t make it this year,” Bert had explained to anyone who asked. “She’s home with Toto. He came down with a bad case of kennel cough.”

Now, remembering the trio of Wizard of Oz characters, Sebastian is torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to forget the memory all together. The first option is easier; the second option is probably for the best.

Aaaaand... that's all you get until publication (whenever that might happen)!