“My father waved, and although my mother returned the gesture, I was certain it was meant for me. He pressed stomach-down on the board, head turned and awaiting the wall of water curling behind him. He paddled quickly, catching the wave at its peak, and came to his feet. So smooth, effortless, as if he were simply standing from the comfort of his desk chair. He sliced through the sea with an ease reserved for bottlenose dolphins and predatory sharks, both of which visited Montauk shores on occasion. His wet suit glinted in the sunbeams and made him look like a wizard, or something else touched by magic. I knew, even at that moment, I’d never see my father again quite so perfectly.”

from Memorial Day 
“My family would be leaving soon; we always ended our Memorial Day vacation before lunch on Monday: on our way out of town, my father would drive to Duryea’s, a small place on Fort Pond Bay next to the railroad station, where lobster rolls were procured and savored on the journey home. I couldn’t imagine the car ride, what we would say to one another, if anything. I held out hope that Liam, in his infinite wisdom and narcissism, would occupy us with uncomfortably carnal stories. Maybe, though, we had already said enough to one another. Maybe we could just move on. Maybe, hopefully, there would be no need for apologies anymore.” Read the opening excerpt of the novella, Memorial Day, over at Blue Fifth Review High-res

“My family would be leaving soon; we always ended our Memorial Day vacation before lunch on Monday: on our way out of town, my father would drive to Duryea’s, a small place on Fort Pond Bay next to the railroad station, where lobster rolls were procured and savored on the journey home. I couldn’t imagine the car ride, what we would say to one another, if anything. I held out hope that Liam, in his infinite wisdom and narcissism, would occupy us with uncomfortably carnal stories. Maybe, though, we had already said enough to one another. Maybe we could just move on. Maybe, hopefully, there would be no need for apologies anymore.”

Read the opening excerpt of the novella, Memorial Day, over at Blue Fifth Review

Memorial Day: An Excerpt and Interview

I worked on my novella, Memorial Day, for almost a year. I’m so grateful to those close to me who read the piece as I struggled to make each word count, including all the editors who were kind enough to give me feedback and help my revisions.

The novella, though standalone, also serves as the Prologue of my novel-in-progress (tentatively entitled Let’s Remember Only That), which only makes the feedback I’ve received all the more instructive.

To read the opening excerpt from Memorial Day, stop by Blue Fifth Review.

In addition, Susan Tepper was kind enough to interview me for the Monday Chat at Fictionaut, where we discussed both Memorial Day and the novel-in-progress. 

Thanks, as always, for your readership and support.

“Though this novella and family are works of fiction, I feel as if I’ve been trying to write about Montauk for most of my adult life. I spent parts of a great many summers in the small resort town at the eastern tip of Long Island. There’s something about the hominess of it all, the swell of salty sea air colliding with fresh-made fudge. Running down the sidewalks with abandon, paddle-boating on Fort Pond, burying my toes in the hot, hot sand of Ditch Plains. So much of my childhood, my adolescence, seems scattered along those Atlantic shores.” from the Author Commentary in Blue Fifth Review, regarding my novella, Memorial Day High-res

“Though this novella and family are works of fiction, I feel as if I’ve been trying to write about Montauk for most of my adult life. I spent parts of a great many summers in the small resort town at the eastern tip of Long Island. There’s something about the hominess of it all, the swell of salty sea air colliding with fresh-made fudge. Running down the sidewalks with abandon, paddle-boating on Fort Pond, burying my toes in the hot, hot sand of Ditch Plains. So much of my childhood, my adolescence, seems scattered along those Atlantic shores.”

from the Author Commentary in Blue Fifth Review, regarding my novella, Memorial Day

In having a conversation this week regarding my novel-in-progress, I was asked for the “theme song,” something to represent the experience of reading the book, following the characters. 

I didn’t even have to think about it. This is it, without a doubt. Enjoy.

The JMWW VI anthology (Best of 2011) is out, and it includes my short story, “Forest Hills.” I’m pretty damn excited about it—thanks to the editors, and readers, for giving my story such a gorgeous home. High-res

The JMWW VI anthology (Best of 2011) is out, and it includes my short story, “Forest Hills.” I’m pretty damn excited about it—thanks to the editors, and readers, for giving my story such a gorgeous home.

“A sentence can offer a moment of quiet, it can crackle with energy or it can just lie there, listless and uninteresting.”

Very much enjoying Constance Hale’s series for The New York Times, “Writing Lessons” (thanks to writer Brian Morgan for drawing my attention to it!)

from "Memorial Day"

The opening to my novella, Memorial Day, is up right now at Fictionaut. Give it a read, if you’re so inclined, and let me know your thoughts.

The novella (currently seeking a home) serves as the prologue to my novel-in-progress, which features the same narrator and protagonist, Roddy, nearly three years after the events of Memorial Day.

Thanks as always for your readership and support.

The kite hovered like a gull, just high enough that I thought, for a moment, it might break from its string and glide over the Atlantic.

My father pointed out into the expanse and said, See kids, there’s Ireland.

The way he looked at the water, I believed he could see it. My cousins, Liz and Casey, were so damn gullible, hitting one another and pretending that the island took shape before them. I slapped my brother, Liam, in the back of the head, hoping to instigate something. 

Not gonna happen, dipshit, he said. 

I wondered if anything would break if I shoved him off the pool deck. The sand below appeared soft.

Linked: The Nathan Stories

Here is the fourth set of showcased linked stories: The Nathan Stories. I hope you enjoy.

√ Superman Comes to Dinner (in Ducts)

√ Riverbed (in Connotation Press)

For other showcased series of linked stories, see below:

√ The Ben Stories

√ The Andre Stories

√ The Charlie Stories