THE MIRACULOUS FINLEY SISTERS

I noticed yesterday that I hadn't posted here in a bit, so I thought I'd drop in, say hello, and post bit of my unpublished novel THE MIRACULOUS FINLEY SISTERS. From what I can tell, the kind of stories I like to write--coming-of-age--aren't real popular right now, so it may never see the light of day, but I love these hopeful, tough, and yes, inspiring little gals that I first featured in my 2014 novella THE UNDERTAKING OF TESS.  

                                                                 

                                                                       PROLOGUE

I’m not sure a warning would have made a bit of difference, but nobody likes to be sucker-punched. It wouldn’t have needed to be anything grand. Nothing biblical, like the sun rising in the West or locusts descending. Just a little something that would have given us time to get our guards up. But the day one of us would be called home to meet their Maker came out of nowhere and began pretty much like all the others that long ago summer.

The four of us Finleys were sitting around the yellow kitchen table. Dad was leaning back in his chair drinking his third cup of black coffee and smoking a Lucky Strike; a barely-breeze sneaking through the window above the sink tousled my mother’s pretty red hair; and my younger sister, Birdie, was mopping up the last of her eggs, when the man on the radio announced, “It’s gonna be another scorcher today, folks. A real doozy.”

So handsome in a blue shirt, my father took a drag off of his cigarette and said through the hazy exhale, “Sounds to me like a great day to beat the heat and do a little fishin’ on the Great Lake. Who’s on board?”   

Mom was angrier than usual with him and gave him the silent treatment, but Birdie looked up from her plate and piped in, “No, thank you, Dad. I love . . . love . . . love you.”

Of course, I realize now, decades later, how different things might have been if I would followed my sister’s lead, or been brave enough to confess the secret I’d been holding onto for the longest time. But coward that I was, I was too afraid Dad would love me less if he knew the truth, so I came up with something that I thought would make him love me more. “Fishin’? I’m in hook, line, and sinker,” I said, not knowing at the time, of course, that the joke would be on me and that day out on the lake would not be so great. That day would change everything.

                                               My Favorite Time of the Year

As you probably know, I'm a big fan of coming-of-age novels, both mine and others. But I also love to write essays for Wisconsin Public Radio and this has always been one of my favorites! (Just copy and paste) Happy Halloween! https://tinyurl.com/4ue32es7

                                                                 GONE FOR GOOD

From multi-award-winner and New York Times bestselling author, Lesley Kagen, comes her newest coming-of-age story. Set in 1959 in the Midwest, Gone for Good captures the essence of what it means to be poor and different, dealing with grief, and the struggles of women and children when they were left “on their own” during a time that men ruled the world.

Facing the loss of her sister, seventy-three years old Tessie Finley seeks solace in another summer, the summer she was twelve and Birdie was eleven, and their world was turned upside down. Not only was Tessie attempting to come to grips with the sudden loss of her beloved father, her mother had been left penniless, and her “not like everybody else” sister refused to believe their dad was gone forever.

Tessie, who believed she played a part in her father’s death, felt compelled to do whatever it took to make amends and she was prepared to do just that, but the the clock was ticking and she had no time to lose. She was sure that if she couldn't prove to her sister that their father was gone for good, her beleaguered mother would send her sister to a "home" and those weren't her only challenges.

With a heartless neighbor hoping to drive the Finley sisters out of the neighborhood, a vengeful bully threatening to cut Tessie into little pieces, and a burglar on the loose, she knew it was going to take a lot more than determination to achieve her goals—it was going to be take a miracle and she wasn't holding her breath.

Gone for Good is a funny, wise, and soulful story about one young girl discovering that when you think you’re down for the count, love has a way of winning the day. And sometimes when you think you’re fighting to save someone else—you end up saving yourself.

Besides writing, Lesley is a mother of two, grandmother of two, a mental health advocate, a reading and writing coach, and loves to teach acting to kids. She lives in a small town in Wisconsin with her pup, the Amazing Gracie.

 

Another Wonderful Review for EVERY NOW AND THEN

 What a wonderful birthday present!  A coveted starred review from Publishers Weekly!

"Kagen (The Undertaking of Tess) skillfully spins a nostalgic tale about a group of preteens who uncover their town’s terrible secret. As headstrong 11-year-olds in tiny Summit, Wis., Elizabeth “Biz” Buchanan, Frances “Frankie” Maniachi, and Vivian “Viv” Cleary spend the sultry summer of 1960 looking for adventure and trying to stay in the good graces of Biz’s Aunt Jane May, who has helped Biz’s physician father raise Biz after her mother died shortly after Biz was born. In addition to speculating about Jane May’s romantic prospects and the meddling of a busybody out to depose Summit’s elderly mayor, the girls agree on a dare to explore their town’s creepy mental hospital, Broadhurst, home to the criminally insane (including a notorious child-killer). In between harmless preteen pranks and innocent explorations, the girls enjoy an idyllic summer—until their fascination with Broadhurst as a “Chamber of Horrors” turns into a nightmare. Kagan perfectly portrays the sense of invincibility felt by the young girls, whose lives have not yet been touched by tragedy. Colorful secondary characters, especially Mayor Bud, underpin a taut plot. This fast-paced and suspenseful outing will captivate Kagan’s fans and do much to win her new ones. (Oct.)"

It won't be long now until Every Now and Then will available at your local bookstore. This story is so near and dear to my heart and I can't wait for you to read it!

EVERY NOW AND THEN

Morning,

Just three more months until EVERY NOW AND THEN comes to a bookstore near you! (Oct. 6th.)

I'd love to say that time is just flying by, but it took me three years to write this book and another year until it was published and I can't wait for you to read it.

Sometimes readers ask me where my inspiration comes from. For this book, stumbling upon a secret little cemetery in a stand of secret little woods while I was out hiking knocked my socks off. The three almost twelve-year-old girls in the story---Biz, Frankie, and Viv---spend a lot of time on a path that wends its way through "Founder's Woods" during the summer of '60.

Some Really Kind Words

I'm thrilled and humbled by these kind words about EVERY NOW AND THEN from authors I admire and respect. Hope you'll love the story, too!

“Every Now and Then is a perfect summer sky of a story, in which lots of lovely blue is mixed with a few dark, descending clouds. Lesley Kagen offers a wry, winning story told in the enchanting voice of adolescence and with the pitch perfect vernacular of 1960. Filled with secrets, lies, and all the truth of what is to be human, especially in a small town, Every Now and Then is a story every heart will embrace.”

—William Kent Krueger, New York Times bestselling author of Ordinary Grace and This Tender Land

“With a grace reminiscent of Pat Conroy’s The Prince of Tides, Lesley Kagen paints a tragic and evocative picture of a childhood summer disrupted by tragedy in 1960s Wisconsin. Every Now and Then, a haunting story of three young friends besieged by unthinkable horror, is both a memorable coming of age tale and a suspenseful page-turner. Longtime and new fans of Lesley Kagen will delight!

          —Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Girls of Paris

 “Lesley Kagen’s Every Now and Then ticks all the best boxes. Bygone small-town life so well described you can taste it? Check! Three BFF girlfriends scraping knees and taking names and having the summer of their eleven-year-old lives? Check! Compelling escapades featuring the likes of mental institutions, escaped murderers, and witches? Check! This novel is delightful and the perfect summer read.” 

                          —Laurie Frankel, New York Times bestselling author of This Is How It Always Is

“Kagen’s trademark blend of childhood curiosity and hidden mysteries shines in this richly imagined coming-of-age adventure. In the sweltering summer heat of 1960, three young friends become entangled in secrets and life-threatening evil that shakes their small Wisconsin town to its core and impacts their lives forever.”
                        —Beth Hoffman, New York Times bestselling author of Saving CeeCee Honeycutt

"Part mystery, part coming of age, EVERY NOW AND THEN brought back wonderful memories of my childhood, when the summers were endless and my best friend and I found ourselves in the middle of numerous bizarre adventures. A rollicking good read!” 

—Ellen Marie Wiseman, bestselling author of WHAT SHE LEFT BEHIND and THE ORPHAN COLLECTOR   

Lesley Kagen’s Every Now and Then is a poignant, beautifully told story about family, friendship, and foul-play in a small town in Wisconsin in 1960. It centers around Biz, Viv, and Frankie—three eleven-year-old best friends—and the summer adventures that will change their lives forever. With characters that leap off the page, mysteries both innocent and evil, multi-layered humor, and twists you never see coming, this novel is delightful and unputdownable. I can’t recommend enough!

                                                                —Jane Healey, bestselling author of The Beantown Girls

"At turns nostalgic, haunting and edge-of-your-seat suspenseful, Every Now and Then is another triumph from Lesley Kagen.”
                           —Wendy Webb, #1 Amazon Charts bestselling author of Daughters of the Lake

EVERY NOW AND THEN

So happy to let you know that EVERY NOW AND THEN is available now for preorder! Check with you local indie bookseller or all the usual places online! Thank you!

EVERY NOW AND THEN

Hi All!

Busy preparing for Christmas and I've taken on teaching a Master Class in acting in a children's theatre as well as teaching writing and helping with my two g-kids so busy . . . busy . . . busy! But had to share that you can expect to have EVERY NOW AND THEN in your hands in October 2020.

Very excited! I love this story and hope like heck that you do, too!

xo Lesley

EVERY NOW AND THEN

Thrilled to announce that my newest novel, EVERY NOW AND THEN, will be published by Crooked Lane. Hopefully, it will be released in the summer of '20, but stay tuned for updates!

EVERY NOW AND THEN

Thank you to all the readers who've asked what I'm working on now. Here's a brief description of EVERY NOW AND THEN and a few pages to, hopefully, whet your whistle. I have no idea when, or even if, it'll be published but I'm sure enjoying the characters and in the end . . . really . . . that's all that counts. (But a fancy schmancy book deal wouldn't be horrible either.)❤ . . . always, Lesley

  All that is over is not past and when memories come to haunt they don’t ask our permission to do so.

Summit, Wisconsin, the summer of 1960: Air conditioning was a modern luxury few in town could afford and window fans were flying out of Mike Hansen’s Hardware store so fast he’d begun talking about retirement. Husbands returned home with five o’clock shadows to sit on their front porches and drink bottled beers that wouldn’t hold a chill while their wives fanned themselves with shirt cardboards and prepared cold cut suppers instead of the usual meat and potatoes. For kids seeking relief from the heat, there was a creek to be swum in, sprinklers to run through, and ice cream at Whitcomb’s Drugstore.

But . . . The Tree Musketeers—Francis “Frankie” Maniachi, Vivian “Viv” Cleary, and Elizabeth “Biz” Buchanan—don’t remember that summer only as the one when the heat wave hit their small town. They remember the summer they were eleven-years-old as the one evil paid a visit to their small town and took there lives as they’d known them as a souvenir. The summer when they’d almost lost their lives, learned about prejudice in its many forms, mental illness, forbidden love, murder, and what it meant to be blood sisters.

Narrated by bestselling novelist Biz Buchanan almost sixty years later, There Comes a Time is an unforgettable story about what three young girls did during a long ago summer to keep their lives and those of the ones they loved from coming apart at the seams and what they continue to do to make amends. Told with empathy, humor, and insight, There Comes a Time is both a powerful and emotionally resonant coming-of-age story and of-an-age story about lifelong friendship, the timelessness of grief and guilt, and the hope for redemption.  

                                                             * * *

                                                                 Prologue

The girls didn’t blame me at the time and to the best of my knowledge, still don’t, but I’ve never entirely forgiven myself for instigating what happened that night in Founder’s Woods. Then again . . . if I hadn’t done what I’d done, more than one grave would’ve been dug that summer.

Of course, not everyone in town remembers the events that unfolded back then with as much remorse, or gratitude, as I do. “What’s done is done. Forget about it. Time heals all wounds,” someone not old enough to know better is bound to pipe in whenever the summer of ’60 comes up in conversation. But there’ll come a time when they, too, will understand that the border between then and now is more like a cobweb than a brick wall, and when memories come to haunt . . . they don’t ask our permission to do so.

A breeze ruffling oak boughs on a full moon night or the whistle of the late train rumbling down the tracks is all it takes to bring back the press of cold steel on my neck, the sound Frankie’s leg made when it cracked in two, and Viv’s scream cutting through the sultry air on a long ago summer night evil paid a visit to our small town and took our young lives as we’d known them as a souvenir.

                                                              

                                                              

                                                                      

                                                                Chapter One

God only knows why my best friends and I loved getting the hell scared of out of us every Saturday afternoon at the Rivoli Theatre or the Starlight Drive-In after the sun went down, but we spent most of our childhood jumping halfway out of our skins.

The radiated ants from Them! sounded an awful lot like cicadas, and after we saw The Fly the three of us strained to hear one calling to us, “Help me . . . please, help me.” The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, whose main character was a doctor—like my father—who discovered his neighbors were being systematically replaced by alien duplicates grown in pods scattered around his small town—like ours—had the girls and I spying into our neighbors’ windows for weeks to ascertain if they’d been similarly afflicted, but it was the The Tingler that almost did us in. Unbeknownst to us, the owner of the downtown theatre had fastened something called the Percepto! beneath the seats and when he activated the vibrating device at just the right time, it felt like that alien parasite had crawled off the screen and into our spines and we ran out the Emergency Door screaming and swatting at each others’ backs.

But while every day back then might’ve felt like anything-can-happen day, to the best of

my recollection, which, if I do so say myself, remains remarkably sharp for a gal on the dusky

side of her sixties, our lives were fairly ho hum. Other than a recluse most of the kids in town believed to be a practitioner of the dark arts, a group of bad boys who hung out in Founder’s Woods, and the occasional escapee of Broadhurst Mental Institution, nothing much out of the ordinary occurred in Summit, Wisconsin—a town deemed so unremarkable at the time that a popular travel brochure left the Points of Interest section blank—until the record-breaking heat ushered in the spring of ’60 like a harbinger of the horror to come.

All Is calm. . . All is bright

Wishing you all a peaceful and memorable Christmas and a joy-filled New Year.

THE GREAT AMERICAN READ

Here I am spouting off again.

https://wptblog.org/2018/07/the-great-american-read-author-lesley-kagen-shares-her-picks/

WRITING AND MENTORING AND COACHING AND TEACHING, OH MY

For all who have been kind enough to ask . . . "Hey, what's up?"

I've been working on my next novel--(See the bit I previously posted.)

Set in Summit, Wisconsin in 1960, The Sweet Bye and Bye is nostalgic, character and voice-driven, poignant, funny, insightful, and about as charming as a story about the lifelong friendship of three women, small town secrets, mental illness, and murder can be. 

And . . . before I become close personal friends with The Grim Reaper, I've got the itch to share some of the stuff I learned along the way. To teach, to coach, to hand hold, or do whatever I can to help other writers. (Interested? See the Mentoring and Coaching book button on the web site? Press it.)




 

THE SWEET BYE AND BYE

I'd like to thank all the readers who have enjoyed my newest novels, THE MUTUAL ADMIRATION SOCIETY and LAND OF A HUNDRED WONDERS.

And for those of you who are wondering what I'm working on now, here's a little bit of THE SWEET BYE AND BYE

                                             

            I will never forget the sound Frankie’s leg made when it snapped in two.

            She didn’t blame me at the time and, to the best of my knowledge, still doesn’t. But a part of me has never forgiven myself for instigating what happened that night in the woods. Then again . . . if Frankie hadn’t thrown herself down from the highest branch of the oak she and Viv were hiding in, she wouldn’t have received all the attention she did for saving my life and I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.

Of course, not everybody remembers that long ago summer with as much guilt, or gratitude, that I do. Whenever it comes up in conversation, someone not old enough to know any better is bound to pipe in, “No use bringing all that up again. What’s done is done.” But there will come a time when they too will understand that not all that is over is past. And when memories do resurrect, they don’t ask permission to do so.

All it takes is a gentle wind stirring the leafy boughs of an oak or a dog barking on a full moon night or the scent of sweat to bring back the press of cool steel on my skin and the sound of Frankie’s femur cracking in half. The stitches left an ugly, raised scar on my neck, and she walks with a limp when it rains, and poor Viv. Though not bodily injured the way Frankie and I were that night, her spirit was more than a little broken.

But as much as we might wish the border between then and now was less like a cobweb

and more like a brick wall, as my lifelong friends and I sit on the front porch of our Honeywell Street house on another summer evening decades later . . . the past is present. We never forget the summer of ’60. The summer that evil paid a visit to our small town and took our live as we knew them as a souvenir.

                                                                    Chapter One

Oh, the horror of it all.

Wild-haired hypnotists mesmerizing us to do their bidding, werewolves sinking their yellow fangs into our sunburned necks, and “little green men” or the “Commies” dropping out of the sky to enslave us not only seemed possible back then, but just a matter of time. Every day felt like anything-can-happen day and our nights were filled with things that went boo.

Why my best friends and I loved nothing more than getting the hell scared of out of us every Saturday afternoon at the Rivoli Theatre in downtown Summit or in the evenings at the Starlight Drive-In on the edge of town still remains a mystery to me, but we spent most of our childhood covered in goose bumps and jumping out of our skins.

The giant radiated ants from Them! sounded an awful lot like cicadas, and the three of us never looked at a full moon the same way after we saw The Wolfman. And for a few months after we’d seen The Fly, we couldn’t spot one without saying, “Heeelp me . . . please, heeelp me.” But it was The Tingler that almost did us in. Unbeknownst to us, Mr. Willis, the owner of the Rivoli Theatre, had fastened a vibrating device called the Percepto! beneath the red velvet seats that was activated during certain scenes in the movie to make it feel like the parasite had wormed its way into our spines and we ran out of the theatre’s Emergency Exit screaming.

But to the best of my recollection, which, if I do so say myself, remains remarkably sharp

for a gal on the dusky side of her sixties, in reality, other than the soaping of Main Street shop

windows every Halloween Eve by boys being boys, a reclusive woman the kids in town believed to be tending a bubbling cauldron in her cellar, the occasional escaped patient found wandering around town or the woods abutting Broadhurst mental institution, and Granny Cleary, nothing too frightening or out of the ordinary occurred in Summit—a town judged so ho hum by a popular Wisconsin travel brochure that the Points of Interest section was left blank—before the record-breaking heat showed up that Memorial Day like a harbinger of the horrifying things to come.

LAND OF A HUNDRED WONDERS

A love story that's near and dear to my heart. Here's what it's about:

Brain damaged after a tragic car accident that took both her parents, Gibby McGraw is now NQR (Not Quite Right), a real challenge for a fledgling newspaper reporter. Especially when she stumbles upon the dead body of the next governor of Kentucky, Buster Malloy.

Armed with her trusty spiral note-book and accompanied by her dog, Keeper, Gibby figures that solving the murder of Buster Malloy might be her best chance to prove to everyone that she can become Quite Right again. But she gets more than she bargained for when she uncovers a world of corruption, racism, and family secrets in small town Shorewood. Luckily, she's also about to discover that some things are far more important than all the brains in the world, and that miracles occur in the most unexpected moments.

You can pick it up at Amazon. And if you love it, which, of course, I sure hope you do, you'll do me the kindness of leaving a glowing review. 

https://www.amazon.com/Land-Hundred-Wonders-Lesley-Kagen-ebook/dp/B071D7VW8V/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1493223631&sr=1-1&keywords=land+of+a+hundred+wonders

HAPPY 10th BIRTHDAY WHISTLING IN THE DARK!

Wow. Just wow. After 156 rejections for representation, scores of "passes" by publishers, against all odds . . . my debut novel became a New York Times bestseller now in its 17th printing. This is so profoundly moving to me, there are no words.





 

MIRACLES AND MEMORY AND COWBOYS, OH MY

COMING SOON!

A HEARTBREAKER

When I sat down to write The Mutual Admiration Society it was with the same intent that I bring to all my stories. In this case, it was my desire to tell the tale of two young girls. Sisters. Kids, who only have each other, or perceive that to be the truth, on a journey that seems to be too much to deal with at such a tender age. The loss of their beloved father, and in many ways, much of their life as they knew it. 

I wanted to write about how deeply resourceful children can be. How imaginative and flat-out funny, and loyal. I wanted the girls' story to feel authentic, symptomatic, and yes, out-of-the-box, because loss it like that. We all experience it to greater and lesser degrees, maybe at the same time, but not together. Grief is a solo trip. A deep sense of abandonment, I wanted to write about that, too, and the guilt one feels when we lose our dearest ones. And, of course, there needed to be a mystery, because dealing with death is so profound and hard, that often it feels unsolvable. In The Mutual Admiration Society there are many internal forces of darkness churning within narrator, Tessie, but the external force is personified by an evil next door neighbor. And a cemetery is always a wonderful setting,  and a handy metaphor. And God . . . where is He in all this? I wondered.

I wanted to write this book. And I love it. I hoped others would love it as well, or else find within its pages something that resonated with them. And if they didn't, they'd continue searching for another story that does touch them. Turns out, there are those that don't really care for my new book, no, let's call a spade a spade. They say they despise it. One reader said that it "nauseated" her. This deep down hurts. Not because it makes me doubt my writing, myself, or the story and my intentions, but because the very idea that there are people whose only intention is to harm the sale of my book by eviscerating it in reviews stretches the limits of my imagination and my belief system beyond the bounce-back factor. 

And the well-intentioned telling me,"Suck it up, buttercup," or "Hey, them's the breaks," and other equally silly cliches, does not cut the mustard. Maybe earlier in my life they would have inspired me in some odd way, but no longer. I have spent most of my working life in the public eye, fifty years of it anyway, which has always made the way I make my living a target, but never before has my acting or writing been subjected to the sheer intentional ugliness that appears to have become the norm these days. How sad that is. For me, sure, but mostly for those that believe the only way to feel good and powerful, even for just a little bit, is to spend their time crafting hate-filled reviews not only of my book, but other books, movies, television shows, art, restaurants, and other types of endeavors that require a profound commitment of heart and soul, many times without commensurate remuneration.  

A believer in humor, knowing it's the only hope that I, or any of us, have to transcend pains, be they large or small, I'd usually stick a wry smile on my face, shrug, and make a joke right about now. But this morning . . . I got nothing. Which is the saddest bit of all.

  

ALWAYS FUN

THE MUTUAL ADMIRATION SOCIETY launch party is right around the corner. Wednesday, February 1, 7:00 pm at Boswell Bookshop in Milwaukee. Be there or be square. 

WARNING!

I've decided that rather than featuring quotes from other writers on the front covers of books, in order to cut down on confusion, they should come with a warning label. Here's the caveat emptor THE MUTUAL ADMIRATION SOCIETY would have slapped on the front cover:

Potential Reader: This novel is written for those above average intelligence who enjoy child narrators, possess a sense of humor, can fathom the sweetness of young love, are not offended by swearing, and understand at least a little about the complexities of children's psyches. If you do not possess these qualities, kindly keep moving to another section of the store, where you will find a wide selection of other books that might better meet your needs.