Monday Musing v. 1

Last week I posted on Instagram that I’m writing a novel. The act of writing is terrifying in itself then you go and admit it to the world. Woof. Listen I have big dreams but I’m also realistic about them. The likelihood of actually getting published is like 6%. This doesn’t mean I’m not going to try though.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and I’ve always felt like I have a story to tell. Until recently I thought that this story had to be about my mum. I’m not sure that sharing all the hard and ugly bits that are necessary in writing a memoir is something that I want to do. So, I shifted. Why not write fiction but incorporate my mum into it. I love the escape that contemporary romance gives me and with the way that the world is I want to contribute my own. They say write what you know so I’m writing a contemporary romance set in Maine at Prout’s Neck and the Black Point Inn.

I’ve been working hard on a first draft. As I write I’ve been thinking about the time that I spent at Prout’s Neck. I keep coming back to the fact that I am so lucky to have had the mum that I had. She gave me the coolest opportunities. We were first introduced to the Black Point Inn when she wrote an article about it for Downeast Magazine. The then owners, The McGarrity’s, introduced her to one of their most special guests, Mrs. Lamm. Once the article was complete and published the relationships didn’t end. My parents often had dinner with the McGarritys and we visited Mrs. Lamm every summer. I even started babysitting for their grandson and continued to babysit for he and his three siblings until I left for college.

My mum left me with some true gold in the stories that crafted by childhood. Today, I’m being brave and sharing a bit from my draft. Samantha, my main character, has just showed up to the Inn for an interview. As she walks in she has a memory of something that she did with her mum many years ago. This little story is 100% true. It gives you a little glimpse into who my mum was.

You all would have loved her.

Excerpt from Prout’s Neck Project Draft 1:

I pull up to the Inn and follow the signs that say guest parking only. The manager told me that for today this is where I should park. The Inn sits on a bit of a hill and overlooks the ocean. It was built in the 1800’s and at one time it was one of many luxury hotels on Prouts Neck. Now it is the only one left. After World War II the others were demolished or consumed by fire. I remember these details from my mom’s article. She was a stickler for including the history because it helped to set the scene and tell the story.

The driveway is all gravel and as I step out of my car I regret my shoe choice. I have small heels on but I don’t feel so glamorous walking. I feel more like an elephant on stilts as I manage to make my way to the front door. The circle driveway is lined with Mercedes and BMWs as guests arrive and the bellboys take their luggage inside. To the left of the front stairs are a collection of beach cruiser bikes. There must be 15 to 20 of them. They are all black and have been embossed with a white BPI logo. I remember as a child it felt like these bikes were mocking me. Half the time we came none of these were in use. How badly I wanted to jump on one and take off.

I walk up the stairs and the bellboys open the first set of doors. They are young. Maybe 15 or 16. They have on khaki shorts and black polos with the BPI logo on them. They smile at me and say hello. They must sense that I’m not a guest but I’m one of them.

“Are you here for the interview?”

“I am! So fingers and toes crossed. I would love to join you all.”

“You got it.” They say in unison.

The doors they open lead to a glassed-in porch. To the left I can look straight into the gift shop and to the right I can look into the sunroom. The sunroom is my favorite room in the whole Inn. It’s filled with white wicker furniture, old board games, and cold lemonade that is diligently filled at 3:00 pm daily. When I was younger my mom decided it would be fun to play a prank on Mrs. Lamm. This was my mom. Professional and yet so mischievous that it made her charming. She could get away with anything. She took me to Goodwill and we picked out a large fur coat and a floppy brimmed hat. We got to the Inn twenty minutes before we were set to meet Mrs. Lamm in the sunroom. My mom knew that I needed to be in there and ready because Mrs. Lamm would come downstairs early just in case. I took my seat against the wall and waited. Mrs. Lamm walked into the room and immediately realized that there was someone there who she didn’t recognize. Just as my mom expected she thought I looked out of place sitting in a fur coat in the middle of summer and she walked right up to me to tell me “what was what”. When I looked up at her from underneath that large hat she howled with laughter. Mrs. Lamm was an eighty year woman who had lived in Manhattan her entire life. She was prim and proper and took social standing and norms seriously but with my mom she would relax. My mom got her to laugh like no one else.

I smile at this silly memory and take a deep breath. I can feel my mom here. There aren’t many places that I feel her but here is definitely one of them. She loved it here.

This weekend Michelle McGarrity and one of her daughter’s came over to meet my daughters. It was a very full circle moment. I was telling Michelle how much I treasure this picture of my mum and Mrs. Lamm from the article. I thought the artist had gifted it to her but as it turns out Michelle’s mom had. She also shared that the full collection is still hanging at her parent’s home. It made me feel even more grateful to have this piece of my mum.