conversation about her contemporary women’s fiction novel, A
seacoast of New Hampshire. She went to college in Massachusetts and graduated
with a degree in gender and sexuality. She lives in Tucson, Arizona where she
writes, loves and is happy.
Season, her debut novel, was a
bestselling e-book. A Long Thaw was
released in 2014, followed up by Still
Life, a collection of short stories. Her most recent novel, Finding Charlie, was selected for
publication by KindleScout.
A Long Thaw is about two female
cousins who were close as children and reconnect as adults. Abby and Juliet
were born into one big, close, Catholic family. But the divorce of Juliet’s
parents fragments this family and sends the girls in very different directions.
Juliet grows up too quickly, on the west coast,
forced to be responsible for her younger sisters as well as an alcoholic,
single mother. On the east coast, Abby grows up a pampered, sheltered only
child. As women, they try to mend the rift and come to terms with the way their
shared history connects them in spite of the years apart.
I’ve always imagined A Long Thaw as a
modern interpretation of the old prince and the pauper story. Abby and Juliet
are cousins who, until the age of ten, live the same privileged, sheltered
lives in a big Irish Catholic family. When Juliet’s parents divorce, her
mother moves across the country so that she no longer has that safety net.
The cousins reconnect in their twenties and the book deals with the ways we
are changed by our experiences as well as the ways we are unchangeable.
work and tosses the lease on the kitchen table. “It’s that time again,” he says
as he removes his tie, hanging it over the back of a chair.
Abby stands at the stove,
pushing the chicken stir-fry with a spatula.
After graduation, they both
took jobs in Boston and neither could afford to live in the city without a
roommate. Living together just made sense; it was about practicality. Love was
gets a pen out of the drawer beside her. He signs his name and holds the pen
out towards her.
They have shared the apartment
for a year. They do their own dishes, take turns making dinner, split all the
bills, fifty/fifty. They never argue with raised voices. They renewed in March
without much discussion. Their signatures side by side on a legally binding
document caught Abby’s attention, distracting her from the landlord’s monologue
on snow plows. She handed the papers to him with a reluctance she hadn’t quite
Abby sets the spatula on the
counter and reaches out her hand. Then, she hesitates, drops her hand back to
her side. They look at each other.
“What?” Ryan says. His sandy
hair curls at the edge of his ears, overdue for a haircut.
“I’m not sure about this.”
Abby’s as surprised as he is to hear herself say this.
“What do you mean?”
The stir-fry is starting to
smoke. Abby turns off the burner. Ryan waits, still holding out the pen.
“What are we doing?” Abby
Ryan expresses his confusion
with a shrug.
“How many times do we renew
this lease? Is this it? Is this all you want?”
Ryan turns his back and places
the pen on the table. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Abby crosses her arms. “I
don’t want you to say anything.” Especially not that, she thinks. As if
she could tell him how to act and that would fix everything; the fact that it
didn’t naturally occur to him was just irrelevant. “I’m not asking for
anything. I never ask you for anything.”
Ryan turns around. “Isn’t that
exactly what you’re doing?”
talking, locked in a silent battle of wills. Ryan blinks first. “Abby, we’re
young,” he says, as if this has meaning.
“I know we’re young. I just
need to know if you want this to work.”
signals annoyance or defeat or exhaustion. Abby isn’t sure which. “Are we in
this together?” Abby asks. “Are you in this?”
“I love you.” Ryan steps
closer, but Abby backs away.
“Yeah, but what does that
mean? You love me in this exact moment and possibly for the next six months?”
Abby gestures to the paper on the table.
“I can’t see into the future.”
“You don’t have to. You just
have to want it.” Abby studies Ryan’s face. “I just need to know it’s a
possibility, that you see us as a possibility.”
Ryan sighs again. Defeat, this
time. “I don’t know what I see.”
Abby leaves him standing in
the kitchen. She isn’t hungry.
manifestations: the one you’re born into, the one you choose and the one you
create. The novel follows five characters: a young mother named Ally, the
deliberately childless Tim and Sara, single dad David with a college-bound
daughter and David’s little sister, Delilah, who shows up on his doorstep with
their lives with seemingly little in common, but they connect in meaningful and
sometimes unexpected ways. Their experiences overlap in a way that reminds us
what it is to be human.
writer in college, but it took me awhile before I felt comfortable enough to
claim it when answering the question at parties: “So, what do you do?” I think
it took the publication of my first book.
like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to
who forces a daily output. Some days the inspiration hits and some days it
doesn’t. There’s definitely value to carving out regular writing time and
making it a priority. I try to participate in NaNoWriMo every year to help me
to do in my work is have characters who pop up in subsequent books, even though
I don’t write sequels. The imaginary world that I constructed for my first
novel, Monsoon Season, is the same world that exists in A Long Thaw and Finding Charlie. Characters overlap because they’re
inhabiting the same space. A main character in A Long Thaw is a peripheral character in the book I’m writing now.
thought I’d be a teacher. I think a lot of kids imagine that because it’s one
of the only professions we see up close. By high school, I was thinking about
being a psychologist because I’m endlessly
fascinated by issues of identity and family dynamics, by the nature vs. nurture
debate. These are things that inevitably find their way into my fiction.