“I Knew Men” was inspired during long cold winter nights in northern Minnesota where one of my good friends and I would play “Last night I had a dream” – trading dramatic stories starring ourselves as ‘Cinderellas’ in the arms of whoever the 1970’s teen idol of the day happened to be.
I’ve been reading, writing, and telling stories ever since.
Much like my lead character, I’ll never forget the fateful moment when I started my novel. In March 2008 I was on a road trip with no kids, no husband … only me. The drive took me over lonely, twisting roads through western Maine, across the border into Quebec. I found myself passing time by daydreaming about some of the stories my friend and I used to tell — our “dream dramas.”
When I arrived at my destination in St. Georges, I had my laptop and time to kill during breaks at the conference. I started to write the story that kept me company during my drive. It started like this:
Chapter 1
In Anna’s memory it was easy to pinpoint the moment when destiny kicked down her door. She was sitting in the barn, listening to her brothers’ band, Fat Doggy, rehearse on a day much like any other day, except that it was Thanksgiving.
The barn was far enough away from the house so that all the noise being produced by Fred and Brian, together with their best friends, James Beecham, and Jimmy Grover, didn’t bother anyone, and yet if Mom needed their attention, ringing her captain’s bell from the back porch would break through the din. The barn was perfect.
On that fateful Thanksgiving Day, the earthy smell of marijuana hung in the air. Anna and her brothers were priming themselves for Mom’s big turkey, and she had to admit she felt a little guilty for hanging out with the fellas while Mom slaved in the kitchen. As the only girl, Anna felt it was her duty to be up there with her. As her stoned mind debated what level of guilt she should be feeling, the band sang their favorite tune, “Momma’s knockin’ so stash it away. Momma’s knockin’ and there’s hell to pay. Momma’s knockin’…”— a teenage boy’s perfect anthem, as close to a hit as they’d ever had.
Jimmy’s sister, Jeannie, who was two years Anna’s senior, suddenly breezed into the barn looking like she’d just come in from the beach. No one had seen her since spring, when she landed her dream job as a receptionist at some big record company out in California. Proudly displayed on her deeply tanned arm was her equally tanned boyfriend, whom she’d brought home for the weekend to meet her family. According to Jimmy, who had shared this little bit of info and not much more, she was gaga for the guy.
Anna gasped. She suddenly found herself staring into the eyes of Chris Newman, youngest brother of the New Men, her favorite singing group. Not some dead ringer, but him, the latest teen heart throb. With his flaxen tousled locks and those seductive, warm brown eyes, there was no mistaking him.
Jeannie squealed, “Jimmy, we’re here!” and the song came to an abrupt halt. Jimmy gave his sister an awkward smile in response to her interruption. Either he didn’t recognize who Chris was, or he didn’t care, because he only nodded when he was introduced.
Jeannie turned toward Fred, the bandleader, and started to make the introduction. Chris was no longer at her side. “You didn’t tell me there’s a girl in your brother’s band,” he said as he approached Anna, perched in her usual place on the old credenza. He slowly extended his hand and gave her a warm, gleaming smile. “Hi, I’m Chris.”
Sometimes you need to take a long drive — and dream.
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