(and the One You’ll Obsess Over)

A few years ago, I came across a person who was quiet, well-read, mysterious, and often hiding. I asked them, “What do you do?” and the answer was, “I’m a writer.” Without sounding nosy, I inquired a little about the details of this writer’s life, without much luck. Little did I know that this person would not reveal their name or whereabouts for a long time.

The waterfront diner

Throughout the years, I casually ran into this writer, as a matter of destiny. They spared me some time for tea and an occasional lunch at the waterfront diner. Needless to say, I was always hopeful to get some details on this mysteriously interesting person. I wanted to read the book they harvested day and night out of their memory and imagination. Details, please: “It is a novel, a story about obsession, and a Fleur de Lis tattoo in Jersey Shore.” I was intrigued by these few insights and was becoming as obsessed as the plot of their story.

The Moon whisperer

Some might wonder, why does it matter? There are so many interesting people to meet. These people might be right, but the mysterious characters are my favorite. I wanted to lift the veil off the face of this person. Someone who could remember every Heavy Metal band member. Someone who can win every trivia game. Someone who would ban a movie if the Moon is blown away in it or a dog dies in the film. And, someone who whispers as they jot down ideas in a leather book.

My secret recording

One time, about fifteen years ago, I dared to record their voice. We were taking a walk on a trail near their farm. Yes, I managed to earn their trust and get invited to this magic place tucked away in the woods, with creeks trickling pristine water into a lotus-shaped pond. The writer told me some stories, and since I followed silently, I pulled out my iPhone 1 and pressed the record button. This recording was never meant to be for the public domain. It is for me to remember this friendship I cultivated through literature, tea, and food at the waterfront diner.

Master piece

A few months ago, the writer knocked on my door. “The novel is fully edited,” they said. “Time to publish it,” I said. But my friend would never reveal their identity or face, for all it matters to anybody else but me. “What do you call your masterpiece?” I asked. “Bec.”

This is how Bec came into my life, soon to enter the world to stay. A story with a veil of mystery behind the nom de plume, and a couple of decades of waiting at the waterfront diner.

Bec

A faded, decades-old photograph and the fleur-de-lis tattoo. Not much to go on. Can this really be the man Clay was paid to find by the woman with the hyacinth scent? How long can he keep up the charade and what happens if he’s discovered? Clay Trinian finds himself skating on very thin ice as dark obsessions swirl around a South Jersey shore town of the mid-1980’s. Clay wants Sylvie; Sylvie wants Bec. But then, everyone wants Bec.

Note: The pronouns they/their are used throughout this post to protect the identity of the author of Bec. This book will soon be published and distributed with IngramSpark. The date of publication will be announced on Social Media and this blog. Follow us for more information.