Excerpt: The Return of Catesby, by Bob O'Connor

Today we have an excerpt from The Return of Catesby, by Bob O'Connor, currently on tour with Walker Author Tours. Enjoy, and pick up your copy of the book at http://www.buybooksontheweb.com/product.aspx?ISBN=0-7414-8206-1.

August 26, 1865

I hobbled to the hearing room at a quarter after nine so that I made sure I would be on time. Each time I had to walk very far it reminded me how easy a short walk had been before the incident in Keedysville, Maryland in June of 1862. That was when Mr. Newberry, who owned me as his slave, decided to ram a flaming hot iron bar into my thigh to teach me a lesson. My right leg has been of no use to me since then. I drag it behind me and do the best I can. Thank God for my crutch.

            When Mr. Thompson, the steno, arrived he explained that he had a series of questions he would ask me from a form. I was to answer each one slowly and loudly as he would be writing each word for transcription later. He said he was not able to expand on the questions or comment if I didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Are you ready, Mr. Catesby?” he asked.

            “Yes sir.”

            “Question 1 – Please state your name, rank and regiment.”

            “My name is Catesby. I was the blacksmith for the 54^th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry.”

            “I am sorry sir. You must give your full name, first and last for the record. Will you please state your name again?”

“Catesby is my full name. I do not have a last name. I am just plain Catesby.”

            “Question 2 – Please state the dates that you were a Union prisoner at the Andersonville Prison in Georgia.”

            “I entered the prison around February 25, 1864 and was transferred out on September 11, 1864.”

            “Question 3 – During your time in the prison, did you know a man named Captain Henry Wirz?”

            “Yes. He was the commandant of the Andersonville Prison during my stay there.”

            “Question 4 – At any time during your time in the prison, did you ever, even once, see Captain Wirz kill one of the prisoners of war?”

            “No, I did not.”

            “That is all, sir. I am sure Major General Wallace will inform you back at the Willard Hotel when or if he wants you to testify.”

            “That’s all you want to know?” I asked in disgust.

            Mr. Thompson had already picked up his pad and was walking out of the room. He looked back at me and said, “Thank you, sir.”

            That was it. I hobbled back to the hotel. Mr. Quinn was waiting. I just shook my head.

            “What’s the matter, Catesby?” he asked.

            “It was a sham. All they wanted to know was did I think Captain Wirz was guilty. When he found out I didn’t think he was, the interview ended. I would bet the blacksmith shop that I will not be called to testify.”

            We sat silently in the lobby for quite a long time. The messenger returned with a note from Major General Wallace. It was brief. I read it out loud.

            “Mr. Catesby. Thank you for your deposition. With 160 witnesses set to testify, I do not feel that you have anything to add to the testimony already lined up.  Sincerely, Major General Lew Wallace”

“Do you mind if we sit in on the trial anyway, since we are here?” Mr. Quinn asked.

            “I would not want to go back home without watching at least a part of it. Let’s go over there right now.”

            We walked to the courtroom. Although the room was quite full, the doorman pointed to two seats in the next to the last row. We quickly found the seats and sat down.

            At the end of the large room was the table where the members of the Military Commission were sitting. I could see some of the name cards that were turned in my direction. Major General Lew Wallace – Major General Lorenzo Thomas – Brigadier General E. L. Bragg. The other names I could not see from where I was sitting. But it was obvious that these were the “brass” of the U.S. Army. All looked overfed. Obviously they had never been in prison.

            Captain Wirz lay on a make-shift bed near the front of the room. I was not sure he was even awake.

            The man testifying was not familiar to me, but he was certainly skinny and sickly as most of the men had been in the prison. He was telling of the conditions. He spoke of irregular rations, sickness of his men, lack of medicine, and the like. He said men were dying every single day. He told of his men not even being able to stand in line for rations because they were so weak.

            The man was testifying about the prison. Any of us could have told the same story. He did not mention Captain Wirz killing anyone.

            The next witness identified himself as Sergeant Boston Corbett, who said he arrived at the prison in July, 1864. He was quite sunburned, possibly from his prison stay. Sgt. Corbett’s testimony was about the deadline, the unclean water, infestation of lice and the filth that was everywhere. Again, any prisoner could have said that. He too said nothing about the killing of prisoners by the commandant.

            A man who said his name was L.D. Brown was next up. He said in May, 1864, Captain Wirz ordered a man with one leg shot. Brown claimed Captain Wirz shouted, “Shoot the one-legged Yankee devil.” A guard shot the prisoner in the head. He died within a few minutes. When the defense asked Brown the one-legged man’s name, Brown said he did not know.

            There were additional arguments between the prosecution and the defense. Court was adjourned early in the afternoon as Captain Wirz had become ill. On our way out, I heard “Catesby. Is that you?”

I turned to see the familiar face of Father Peter Whalen, the priest from the prison. We greeted each other warmly. I introduced him to Mr. Quinn who acknowledged that I had talked of the pastor’s great work in bringing the word of God to a place as close to Hell as any place on earth.

“Will you be testifying?” I asked. 

“I originally thought so, but as the days go by, I am certain that they don’t want to hear from me. They seem to have a guilty agenda. My testimony would not support that,” Father Whalen explained.

“I have the same thought. They didn’t want to hear from me either.”

Father Whalen said he had returned home after Andersonville closed and started a small church. He said it was a Catholic Church but it was open to all denominations. His church was doing quite well.

It didn’t surprise me that even as a Catholic priest, anyone could come to his church. In the prison, Father Whalen hadn’t cared much what religion you practiced or even if you had any religion at all. He had offered to fill a need, bringing God into a place where there hadn’t been much hope for anyone.

I thanked Father Whalen. We parted with a firm handshake.  It had been good to see someone who had done great work for so many at the prison.

Mr. Quinn and I left the courtroom and walked slowly back to the Willard Hotel.

“What did you think?” I asked.

“Seemed to me like the military commission was trying to pin the lack of food, water and medical supplies on Captain Wirz. That would justify a guilty verdict. You had told me you didn’t think the conditions at the prison were his fault.”

“Where do I know that Corbett fellow from?” I asked. “I didn’t know all 34,000 prisoners, but he sure looked familiar.”

“Isn’t he the same Boston Corbett who killed John Wilkes Booth?” Mr. Quinn asked.

“That’s it. I saw a drawing of him in the newspaper. He sure gets around.”

We stayed that night again at the Willard Hotel. We planned to return to Gettysburg the following morning.

Guest post and excerpt: Marsha Cornelius

Enjoy this guest post and excerpt from author Marsha Cornelius, whose book Losing it All is available this week only for just $.99 on Amazon. Read on to find out how you can win a free copy!

WHY TWO POVs?

Doesn’t point of view drive you crazy some times?  I’ve read books where the POV changed two or three times - in the same paragraph. I’ve tried not to create this kind of writing faux pas, but I have been known to use two different POVs in the same book.

In my first novel, H10 N1, my two main characters, Rick and Taeya, share quite an adventure together. But they absolutely do not get along in the first portion of the book. I thought the best way to give them equal time in their disdain for each other was to include both of their perspectives on what was happening, and what they thought about each other.

Even if you only switch POVs a chapter at a time, it still gets a bit tricky. The author can’t just cover the same ground from the other point of view. (Although I’ve seen that done, too.) I read a novella where the author wrote the scene from the female lead’s perspective, then went back and did the whole scene again from the male’s POV. It was very disconcerting. Going back throws the reader out of the story just as much as changing the POV. So unless the opposing POV is critical to the plot, I say move forward.

I’ve changed whole chapters, however, because I wanted the scene to come from a certain character’s POV. It’s possible to add comic relief, or ramp up the drama, just by switching the perspective. And an author has a lot more leeway in telling a story when the main character isn’t around. In fact, it’s a great way to show the reader something that the main character doesn’t know. A glimpse behind the curtain, so to speak.

The Ups and Downs of Being Dead, my second book, is told strictly from Robert’s point of view.  The reader follows his journey as he waits to be brought back to life, along with other cryonically-frozen ‘ghosts’. It felt natural to tell the story from this one perspective.

But for my third novel, Losing it All, I’ve gone back to a dual point of view, not because the two main characters are adversaries, but because their lives are in two really different places at the beginning of the story. 

I want the reader to observe Frank and Chloe as their lives draw closer together. Kind of like Sleepless in Seattle. There’s no way that story could have been written from a single point of view.

Even when Frank and Chloe do meet, circumstances keep them apart until Chloe is at the end of her rope.

Here are two short excerpts that introduce Frank and Chloe.

CHAPTER ONE EXCERPT

Pain’s a bitch. 

The doctor at the VA called it phantom pain, nerve trauma that would eventually go away. Yeah, right. Frank was twelve years and counting.

This morning, he woke to a cold, sluggish fog that had his foot throbbing before he even stood. His only relief was to shift his weight to his toes and keep pressure off the heel. Of course, the gimp-walk didn’t do much for his appearance. People already shied away from his long hair and shaggy beard. The shuffling limp and tortured expression convinced onlookers that he was a derelict.

They should have seen him twelve years ago at the VA. The pain was so intense all he could do was lie in bed, groaning and thrashing, his hospital gown soaked in sweat. Once he was up and around, he’d rolled down the hallway in his wheelchair, ranting at other Vietnam veterans with missing legs and arms. His rage seemed to ease his pain, but like a drug, he needed more. So he started ramming into other wheelchairs, then chasing after those who could walk, bruising their ankles with his metal foot-plates.

On his feet, Frank was a regular fighting machine, wielding a crutch like a club, or throwing sucker punches when least expected. It never occurred to him that those guys were battling their own pain.

In desperation, he pinned a doctor to the wall with his own clipboard, threatening to decapitate him if he didn’t up Frank’s morphine dosage. An orderly put him out on the street.

Then the pain really took hold. The dribble of morphine still in his system wore off while he slouched in the back of a city bus headed for downtown Atlanta. When he threw up in the aisle, the driver tossed him off. Unable to stand, much less walk, Frank crawled into an alleyway and passed out.

A wino rummaging through a trashcan woke him. Frank offered the bum some dough for his bottle of Thunderbird, and slugged the wine down in one long gulp. From there it was all downhill.

One week only

April 1 – April 7

Losing It All

Only 99¢ on Amazon.

http://ow.ly/iG2wP   (US)   http://ow.ly/iG4jm   (UK)

About the Author:

After 15 years as an elementary school cafeteria manager, Cornelius quit her day job and now writes full time at home. That is, when she’s not posting on Twitter or sharing jokes on Facebook or chatting with other readers on Goodreads.
She has even been known to wipe a Swiffer over furniture surfaces and declare her home clean.
Her two grown sons lead their own lives, while her husband competes with two mollycoddled cats for affection.
This is her third novel.

Want to win a copy of Losing it All? Leave a comment on this post and one random poster will win! Winner will be announced on April 8.

Book excerpt: Spin the Plate

Happy Monday! Donna Anastasi is currently on tour with Walker Author Tours, and here on A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book we have the honor of being the first tour stop! Enjoy this excerpt from the newly expanded, re-edited version of Spin the Plate. Here we get a little insight into the character of Jo, the heroine of the story.

Click here to purchase your copy of Spin the Plate.

Turning back to the dogs, she called out to them by their street names, “Titan! Cain!” which she used when they were out at night to help intimidate strangers. Rufus wriggled in delight and Ben waved his powerful thin tail. They knew they were going into the city for the evening.

Jo scowled at them and said, “Hey. Toughen up!”

Titan’s lip curled into a smile, exposing his long white canine teeth, and Cain burst into an explosive series of barks.

“Okay, that’s a little better,” she conceded, though the tails still beat the air, “Let’s go.”

The three started out into the night. Inspired by exercises from the Sumo training manual, Jo had developed her own loping stride. She did not run or jog, fearing a lean and thin runner’s build would result. Instead, she moved in a rolling rapid gait, bending her knees ever so slightly with a movement somewhere between a chimp on two feet and a Native American Ute hunter. She’d never yet hit her limit on how long or far she could go at this pace.

It took two hours for Jo to travel the ten-mile stretch from Newton to one of Boston’s grimier neighborhoods, arriving there after just after midnight. Ben was the tracker, without formal training, but with a strong natural instinct to sniff and find. Jo had shaped the behavior using verbal praise, with Ben ready to work to exhaustion to attain a rare expression of her pleasure. The huge hound was indiscriminate, able to search and rescue any living creature, whether it was a rat in need, a cat, a dog, or even a city pigeon with a broken wing. Most of his finds were lost or deserted pets of all sorts, including reptiles, ferrets, bunnies, and the occasional gerbil. Ben kept his nose to the ground in one continuous sniff. Rufus held his head high, skipping along beside Ben, tail swishing back and forth. Ben’s tail waved the air as he walked, until finally, often behind a large green dumpster, he would tense his shoulder muscles, freeze, and stare intently.

Ben was always the first to find a creature, having both the superior nose and concentration over the adolescent Rufus. Jo was never sure what species they’d encounter. She came armed with rolled oats, meat, an apple, baby food, and lactose-free milk for the animals. She carried packets of vanilla energy paste, too, which she consumed herself every forty-five minutes for concentrated calories, protein, and potassium. These she would sometimes share with severely emaciated carnivores.

She’d been picking animals up off the roadside for as long as she could remember. Jo found it ironic that this passion was initially ignited by her mother, of all people. It was nearly impossible for Jo to think about her mother as the person she once was. In fact, she thought of the woman in that memory as a different person all together, one long dead and gone.

Click here to purchase your copy of Spin the Plate.

This week on A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book: Kelly Preston

This week on the A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book BlogTalkRadio show, Jennifer will interview Kelly Preston, author of Real Dogs Don't Whisper. Listen live on Wednesday, January 30 at 3:30 Pacific Time or hear the recording any time after the show at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/coffeeandbooks/2013/01/30/a-cup-of-coffee-and-a-good-book.

Kelly lives her belief that all lives are precious and deserve a chance. Her book is a unique and heartfelt collection of stories about some of the rescue dogs (several thought to be hopeless) she has invited into her home, punctuated by Mr. MaGoo's reflections, of course! Mr MaGoo is a nine-year-old Lhasa Apso and the book's co-creator. He is, in his own words, "the alpha and omega of all dogs".

Kelly's writing comes from her life experiences and that of her dogs. Her goal is to inspire and motivate her readers to enjoy life and live it to the fullest extent, much like our animals. She also hopes to encourage the adoption of special needs dogs. Kelly has a children's book on the way for early 2013 publication. Visit Kelly, Mr MaGoo, Buffy, Carla Mae and her latest rescue Mini Me at www.realdogsdontwhisper.com.

This week on A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book: Milt Toby

This week on the A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book BlogTalkRadio show, Jennifer talks with Milt Toby, who is currently on tour with Walker Author Tours with his book Noor: A Champion Thoroughbred's Unlikely Journey from California to Kentucky. Listen live on Wednesday, January 23, at 3:30 Pacific Time or hear the recording any time after the show, at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/coffeeandbooks/2013/01/23/a-cup-of-coffee-and-a-good-book.

While Seabiscuit is perhaps the best-known Thoroughbred in history, Charles S. Howard owned another remarkable race horse that should never be forgotten. Howard's Irish-bred Noor dominated the 1950 racing season, setting three world records in victories over Citation and winning the Hollywood Gold Cup by defeating a Triple Crown winner, the Horse of the Year, and the previous year's Kentucky Derby winner. Sadly, that fame faded as he failed to sire champions, and Noor was buried in an unmarked grave in the infield of a training track in Northern California.

In Noor: A Champion Thoroughbred's Unlikely Journey from California to Kentucky, veteran turf writer Milt Toby recounts Noor's colorful career and the inspiring story of racing enthusiast Charlotte Farmer's personal mission to exhume the horse's remains for reburial in Central Kentucky.

 

Milt's previous book, Dancer's Image: The Forgotten Story of the 1968 Kentucky Derby, was honored with the Dr. Tony Ryan Book Award for the best book about Thoroughbred racing published in 2012 and an American Horse Publications Award for the Best Equine Book of the Year.

Learn more about Milt and the book at http://www.miltonctoby.com.

This Week on A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book: Jackie Anton

This week on the A Cup of Coffee and a Good Book BlogTalkRadio show, Jennifer will interview Jackie Anton, author of the Backyard Horse Tales series. Listen Live on Wednesday, January 16 at 3:30 Pacific Time or hear the recording any time after the show at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/coffeeandbooks/2013/01/16/a-cup-of-coffee-and-a-good-book.

Backyard Horse Tales 2: Frosty and the Nightstalker   

by Jackie Anton

Frosty is an Appaloosa colt who undergoes a life changing event the summer he turns two that triggers a strange out of body experience. Is he only having bad dreams or is his strange haunting a result of the collective memories of Appaloosas from a long ago past? Follow Frosty through the twilight between space and time where you will meet the Nightstalker.

Learn more about Ms. Anton at http://www.backyardhorsetales.com.

Author Interview: John Riffice

Today we have an interview with John Riffice, author of Waiting for Pops. Read to the end to find out how to win a copy!


Jennifer: Where can we find out more about you and buy your book?
JPR: My book, Waiting For Pops, is available through Amazon or through a link to Amazon at my website www.johnphilipriffice.com for a mere $9.99 (paperback) or $3.99 (ebook).  There at my website the reader can find out a little more about me both professionally and personally.


Jennifer: Tell us about your book.
JPR: Waiting For Pops, a mainstream biographical novel based on real-life events, is a tale of a young boy’s appalling mistreatment at the hands of his alcoholic mother.  It is a tale of spousal secrets and parental lies.  It is a tale of love, friendship, and, above all else, betrayal.  Pops is seen through the eyes of an innocent boy growing steadily into manhood in 1950s Chicago.  Johnny Ryba tells his story and transports the reader into his small, blue-collar existence—his mother’s alcoholism, his much-loved father’s sudden death in an auto accident, his beloved little sister’s autism.  Later, as the reader accompanies Johnny into his teen years, they experience as well the painful heartbreak of his first love and loss.  The storyline rapidly evolves and ultimately centers on a mystery that Johnny attempts to solve as a mature adult, resulting in a shocking revelation that reverses almost everything he once believed about his mother and father, as well as his own harrowing past.  He inadvertently discovers his parents’ role as accomplices in a lifelong conspiracy of silence, and also becomes aware of a misplaced affection for his father.  Johnny must finally come to terms with the most important aspect of his life: the truth about his parents, and about himself, too.

This mystery centers around young Johnny Ryba, who is used to his mother physically and verbally abusing him.  He can’t turn to his father for help; Pops died long ago.  But strangely enough, finding help is not Johnny’s main concern: keeping his mother’s alcoholism a secret is.  To him, it is the only thing that matters.  The mere thought that neighbors and friends might learn of his family secret is more than the little boy can bear.  And in attempting to keep it all secret, Johnny discovers the truth about his mother and father and their lifelong conspiracy of silence.  Waiting For Pops concerns itself with two subjects which have plagued societies worldwide for decades: child abuse and alcoholism, both uniquely portrayed in this mystery set in 1950s Chicago.  Back then, we spoke of it in whispers.  Today these matters are open for discussion, but their solutions still elude us-and their effects still linger on.  And they linger for Johnny, too, until he finally discovers what may have been better kept a secret. 

 

Jennifer: Where did you get the idea for the story?
JPR: The entire storyline is fundamentally autobiographical in nature, though snippets here and there have been incorporated into the book's text as a result of personal observations of the lives of two childhood friends.  Curiously, the three of us as adolescents never discussed what we each were privately facing, under the misguided belief that what we were experiencing was both 'a well-kept secret' as well as a life unique to each of us individually.  Neither assumption, of course, was true.  Over three decades passed before we individually came to terms with the reality of our youth and were able to discuss our experiences honestly and openly.  It seemed that only with age and maturity we were capable of letting go of the shame of 'covering' for an abusive, alcoholic parent and the embarrassment they brought into our lives.
 
What do you find most rewarding in writing a book?
JPR: I think the most rewarding aspect of having written this book is the many emails and comments I have received.  Curiously, the theme of all these communications tend to be similar in nature.  "God, I swear you must have lived my life!" or "I had a friend and the poor girl was going through the same thing. But we never talked about it...".  Additionally, my description of life in a solidly blue collar, middle class neighborhood was apparently right on the money, from day-to-day life to the clickety-clack of passing trains to the more sordid, tawdry details of infidelities and deceitful behavior on the part of neighbors.  All from a child's perspective, too!  So, in short, readers confirm that what I intended to do when I set out and first set pen to paper was realized!  Writing a book that all  readers could relate to-because most of us grew up middle class with either an abusive or substance abusing adult somewhere in our lives-was very rewarding.  Knowing I touched so many people (which of course is the objective of most writers) was rewarding and, after all , the whole point of starting such an endeavor. 


Jennifer: What other projects do you have coming up?
JPR: I just this week finished a novel entitled "Dog and Butterfly," a lovely story about a little boy and his relationship with his uncle, the boy's deceased father's older brother.  It is a beautiful tome revolving around the power of Fate and how it shapes our lives and essentially, how one life event (whether good or bad) just has to happen so the next thing can.  Life, after all, is just a series of events that when connected tell a story.

Jennifer: Do you write full time? If so, tell us how you manage it. If not, what is your day job?
JPR: I do not write full-time (darn it!), though it usually feels like I do!  By day, I am a pipefitter in Chicago (yes, it's true... a construction worker who writes books!) since 1982.  Sometime in those years I left the trade to pursue my dream of becoming an educator.  For nine years, before the economy took its most recent severe downturn, I taught Spanish, Italian, Special Education, Vocational Education, Driver Education, and Social Studies.  Whew!!!  It was a profession I loved (and still do) and one I hope to some day return to.
 

Jennifer: What is your writing process like--do you outline first or just start writing, etc.?
JPR: I see creative writing as very similar to spring cleaning: hard to get started, but once you do, you don't stop till the job is done!  Typically, and I suspect this is true for most writers, I start with a thought.  That thought makes its way to a sentence and then to a paragraph.  And of course that paragraph gives birth to another paragraph and then another and another and... well, you get it.  Over time, deletions are made and additions are inserted.  Unfortunately (and I suspect this is true for most writers, too), after weeks of penning a chapter and reviewing and editing it a million times, I read it over and say to myself, "This is garbage!"  So I put it down for a few days and come back to it then.  And guess what?  Sometimes it is garbage!  But more often than not, it's pretty darn good stuff.  I equate it to spending a few hours in the kitchen making a nice pot of soup: after tasting it over and over it turns into a big disappointment.  But the next day?  "Hey, this is good!"  And that's how writing is for me: writing, rewriting, reading, rereading until Shazaam! I've actually got something exceptional on my hands.


Jennifer: What have you done to develop your writing craft?
JPR: In all honesty, with respect to writing, I'd have to say that I'm a natural.  This I attribute to the fact that I have always been a gifted storyteller, something that served me well particularly when I was in the classroom.  No way to better get your point across to a captive audience (that is, kids who would much rather be elsewhere) than deliver your message in storyform.  And so, this gift enabled an easy transition from oral storytelling to written storytelling.  Add to that the fact that I am a voracious reader and have enjoyed the various writing styles of countless authors, it is little wonder that my writing is so good and so entertaining.  My wife tells me that few people have this talent.  Maybe she's right; I don't know.  All I can say is that for me it comes relatively easy.  Now that's not to say that I don't get stuck or suffer from writer's block from time to time.  I do!  But that passes too, and before I know it I'm back in the saddle and writing like Hemingway!  Well, okay, perhaps I exaggerate a little...


Jennifer: Tell us a little about your non-writing life. Family? Pets? Hobbies?
JPR: Pets?  Skippy, Atticus, and Ted, two miniature dachshunds and a shepherd-mutt, respectively.  And may God rest their souls...  I never had dogs as a boy (my mom knew she'd get the brunt of the work laid at her doorstep-she was right about that, too, I think), but as a little girl my daughter wanted a dog.  I fought that notion for as long as I could, but being weak of heart and not wanting to disappoint my daughter, I gave in.  It didn't take long before I was in love with ol' Ted, and before I knew it I had a managerie of pets: three dogs, a cat, and a canary.  Despite the sadness (and I do mean sadness) of eventually losing them all, my daughter is now a veterinarian (University of Iowa, Class of 2012), having them around enhanced my life tenfold.  Now, however, the sadness of losing them precludes me from getting another pet, but in time I hope that will pass.  But when?  It's been four years and my heart is still broken!
    
My hobbies are (of course) writing and golf.  And that's another reason I'm delighted to be done with my latest venture, 'Dog And Butterfly'.  Now I can take a break and get back on the golf course!  And family?  Well, I told you about Dr. Riffice (my daughter), of whom I am oh-so-proud!  But then there's my better half, Karen (and I do mean better), my wife and life companion for the last 28 years.  How she puts up with me I'll never know.  All I can say is that she's a better man than I! 


Jennifer: When and why did you decide to become a writer?
JPR: It's all my wife's fault!  Several years back I became friends with an immigrant from Sicily, a restaurateur, with whom I opened a little trattoria (forgot to mention that cooking Italian is my passion, an art I acquired after living in Italy several years after college).  The whole sordid affair is far too long to go into here (but it is the subject of a yet-to-be-released book called 'Divided By One'), but suffice it to say that my partner's association with certain underworld characters (unbeknownst to me when we became partners) caused the whole situation to go south in a hurry.  The bullet to his head didn't help any, either.  At any rate, over dinner with friends, I would tell the whole story, detail by delicious detail.  Our companions' response was always the same: "You should write a book!", a refrain my wife uttered a million times previously.  So I did.  It was then that I decided to pursue writing a bit more seriously.

To be honest, it may have started a little earlier, my desire to write.  When I was a sophmore in high school, I met a girl and just flipped out over her.  Needless to say, she dumped me not long after, leaving my heart shattered in a zillion pieces.  The following year, I wrote a ten page love story, based on our so-called relationship, and lo-and-behold I won her back!  A few years later, Fate interceded and snatched her away from me again.  But I thank the Lord it did.  I wouldn't have ever had Skippy and Atticus and Ted et al., not to mention my good wife and my daughter the doctor!


Want to win a copy of Waiting for Pops? Leave a comment on this blog and you could win! Winner will be announced on Monday, December 10, 2012.