The Lady Of The House • So, you “hit send” on a certain super seekrit writing project a few weeks ago. Again, huge congrats to you. Is there a certain passage, sentence, or piece of dialoge that you are most specifically proud of that wouldn’t give away too much of the plot?

Q:So, you "hit send" on a certain super seekrit writing project a few weeks ago. Again, huge congrats to you. Is there a certain passage, sentence, or piece of dialoge that you are most specifically proud of that wouldn't give away too much of the plot?

Egad, this is hard. I’m tender about the whole project. But I’ll attempt to dig up a line or two.

I like this passage a bit because I flooded a town. Flooding is a pretty big part of this book. This section has nothing whatsoever to do with the main characters, save for one being the cause of the flood.

In the river, along with the cattle, floated the body of Eustace Wilder, an old rummy who had just the day prior pressed his drink-bloated lips to Evangeline’s hand, the tip of his nose brushing against her knuckles. He had stepped from his porch to shout at the storm only to slip and fall into the water. The bald back of his head shone in the moonlight as the river coursed over it. The church, too, crashed down in the flood, pews piled up against Northman’s Hill like matchsticks. The town streets were running over with scriptures.

I also like this bit (having a great deal to do with two of the main characters), because it relies totally upon a language I built for the book using Tarot cards. So, it very much represents the sheer volume of work that went into the project.

Amos did not want to listen. He was profoundly tired of listening. He wished to speak. Working through the deck, he showed Evangeline card after card, building sentences in flashes of brilliant images. The Fool over and over again, the Empress and the darker cards. Amos set them all before her as mosaic of his life; his thoughts—and more than before, his fear and sorrow. Evangeline tried to keep pace, speaking words and thoughts as she saw them, but Amos moved the cards with such furious speed that she lost all thread. She watched the pictures move until, at length, his hands slowed. He began to repeat a sequence of cards, one she remembered from a stolen meeting at the river’s edge. In their lesson he’d used two cards—one for him, one for her. Now he used just his, The Fool. He began matching it with another. She tried to recall the meaning. Amos’s look brought it to her. In the lesson he’d used the cards to ask, “Are we alone?” Now the variation. She knew it. “Am I alone?” He repeated. Am I alone? Am I alone?

The scene extends for a bit and ends with my favorite exchange from this part of the project.

On the bent boards of her tub she placed her cards next to his so that they touched in answer. Am I alone? I am here. Am I alone? I am your home.

None of this will make sense, of course. And yes, it all reads very much like the fiction that it is. That said, this is the thing I’ve worked on that draws most deeply from my life. I don’t really believe in doing “fiction” that overtly draws from your immediate life. Not for me. That seems too much like therapy. I don’t want people recognizing my family or friends or wondering certain unflattering things about me. This piece is wildly fantastic, but at the same time comes very much from real fears, tender spots, and things that I’m incredibly private about. But, were you to read this book and meet me, you’d never know it.

-TLOTH