Don't we all love reading spooky tales? I know I do, and today's guest in My Writing Corner sounds like she is bringing us a great one. Joining us today is Minnesota-based author, Joie Lesin. Her new book that will be released on August 21 is titled The Passenger. While her release date is a few weeks away, it is available for pre-order now.
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Originally from Massachusetts, at six years old, Joie moved to her mother’s birthplace, Minnesota. By eight, Joie says she lost her New England accent, however, it's gradually returning as the years go by. She grew up in Minneapolis but now resides in St. Paul with her husband and their blended family—which includes a rambunctious grand-corgi.
Joie says she misses the ocean, so she often finds herself walking by one of Minnesota’s many lakes and travels to one of the coasts as often as she can. In fact, she considers California her home away from home. When she’s not writing, reading, or walking, you can find her listening to music. She says she absolutely loves music—especially live—and songs have sparked most of her story ideas. Let's find out more about Joie and her writing.
Joie, what do you enjoy about being an author?
I enjoy the storytelling and playing make believe until the tale develops a pulse of its own.
I enjoy the experience of having that spark of an idea—seeing that very first scene in my mind’s eye—and letting the story unfold. I love it best when I allow myself to get out of the way and let the story write itself.
Because when I am in the flow and I just allow the story to tell itself, those scenes are among my most favorite. Below is an excerpt from The Passenger of a scene that wrote itself. It revealed a character’s memory—Adriana Clemente—our hero’s madre.
This scene just flowed from my fingertips:
Adriana edged closer. This new arrival interested her. This was the eldest of the three brothers. The one her aunt warned her to avoid. He was one to ruin a woman’s virtue. Was this why neither his padre nor madre had sought a bride out for him?
Just look at him. He was not a small man by any means, but he was built of lean lines and sinewy muscle. He was not at all like Lorenzo or the youngest brother, Michael. Paolo’s features were sharper. He was an aristocrat made for Roman society, not to be the don of a country vineyard. What woman would not beat down the door for a chance at him?
“Adriana, come back here,” her aunt ordered.
Never one to do as she was told, she approached the men, taking several sideway steps, stopping to catch sight of Signora Clemente marching like a young girl in the grapes. All other times Adriana met her, the petite woman was soft-spoken and reserved. To see this frivolous side to the mistress of the vineyard amazed her.
Adriana ran her hand along the table set with covered plates of food, a feast for the daylong harvest celebration. If she bided her time, waiting for refreshments, perhaps she’d be able to sneak away.
“Now this must be Adriana.”
She turned toward the brothers, and her breath caught. Paolo leaned casually on Lorenzo’s shoulder. He wore a mischievous, lopsided grin. No other man was as appealing.
“She is much too beautiful for you.” Paolo’s eyes didn’t leave her face.
Too young to have the sense to blush, she smiled at him. “And you, Signore, are much too bold to pay such compliments to a woman. Especially when this woman is promised to your brother.” Adriana always recognized what was meant to be hers. The first of the Clemente brothers had been born for her. She’d no longer be content to marry the middle brother.
How do you develop characters?
I’d love to be able to say, I sit down and create elaborate charts outlining the character’s personality traits, internal and external goals, motivation, and conflicts—but I don’t. I have tried to do this more than once but eventually scrapped those attempts and returned to the way that comes most natural to me. I may scratch down a few notes but mostly my characters develop over time in my mind. I let them percolate and envision them in different situations. I get to know them as I write them.
One thing I should say about my writing process is each of my stories live with me for years. With the projects I am finishing up now, I can honestly say I have had at least a decade to get to know each of the characters. They are as familiar to me as breathing.
How do you come up with your plots?
I puzzle together rather than plot my stories.
All of my stories start with a single scene. Most of the time when that scene first comes to me, I don’t yet know the characters, but I see a moment in time. From there I treat it like a puzzle. I discover who the characters are by writing the opening and closing scenes. From there, I write to discover what has to happen to lead them from that opening to the single scene that birthed the story for me—and how to progress forward from that pivotal moment to the closing scene. Any plotting I do happens a scene or two at a time. It may not sound like it but it’s both organic and methodical for me.
For instance, as I mentioned earlier the plot for The Passenger originated from the scene of young woman aiding a dying man. An interesting note on this is that while that scene remains in the novel the original opening and closing scenes I wrote do not. However, they were instrumental in guiding the story and helping it to become what it is today.
Tell us about your road to publication.
I originally made the decision to finally sit down and write The Passenger when I was 32. I’d always intended to be an author, but life has its way of setting detours in our paths. Anyway, I finally sat down and got serious. With two children ones underfoot and a fulltime job (I worked days and my then husband worked nights), in a sleep deprived state, I wrote it after I fed, bathed, and tucked away my kids in their beds.
I wrote it and three others, too.
Finally, six years later, I got that first call. In 2007, The Passenger was first published.
In the years since, I’ve continued to create my stories but how I focused my energy changed. When my children were still young, I suddenly became a single parent and found myself raising them to adulthood by myself.
Now, here I am with my second author life and my first book is about to experience its second life too. I am loving the fact that I’m getting this chance to share this book with new readers.
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Today, I’m featuring The Passenger which will be released by The Wild Rose Press on August 21, 2024.
The original idea for The Passenger came to me when I was 16 years old. I was on the city bus on the way home from school playing the “What If” game I used to create fictional stories for the random people I would encounter throughout the day.
On this particular day, I noticed a man sitting at the back of the bus who seemed a bit down on his luck. I wondered, what if he were alone in the world? What would happen if this man collapsed there on the bus? Would he die right there on that bus alone? What if I, or someone else, comforted him in his dying moments?
The tale blossomed from there until I finally sat down to write it 16 years later.
Let's get a blurb:
She's a 1940s ghost whisperer. He's the son of a ghost.
Burdened with her empathic gift, Elizabeth Reilly wants to be free of it and fit in with normal people. Nevertheless, when the spirit of an old man asks for her help, she travels across the country to help him return home. Gio Clemente is still angry with his father who abandoned him as a child. To help the father pass on, Elizabeth must persuade Gio to let go of his anger. Though he resents her intrusion, they are both stunned to find themselves fighting a profound attraction. Elizabeth can accept his headstrong brand of love, but can Gio accept her gift—and believe in her?
The Passenger, a 1940s ghost story set in the California wine country, tells a tale of family connections, life-changing choices, and love—lost and found.
How about an excerpt:
The same day in East Boston, twenty-five-year-old Elizabeth Reilly climbed the streetcar steps and deposited her dime. Holding onto the seat handles, she strode to the middle of the car where her sister, Anna, already sat sideways with her legs folded beneath her. Sketchpad open, Anna peered at a new subject.
“Sit back there.” Anna pointed over her shoulder to the seat behind her and swept a loose auburn curl behind her ear.
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, amused at the nineteen-year-old’s authoritative tone, and slumped into the seat. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Elizabeth said. “We don’t have far to go.”
Leaning back against the cool metal seat, she let her heavy lids close to the clink of the streetcar gliding over the rail. An image of a vine-filled forest fluttered into place in her mind’s eye. Stepping forward, she walked deeper into the maze.
All around Elizabeth, dark green vines climbed an invisible wall, cutting off the sun’s light. Plump, burgundy fruit hung in clusters from the branches. She plucked a single grape and smashed the juicy fruit between her fingers as she brought the berry to her lips.
Shaking her head clear, Elizabeth opened her eyes. The flavor of the sour-sweet fruit was like a lingering phantom on her tongue. The vision struck her sporadically over the last few months and was part of her gift. The ability she’d fought hard to block out at fourteen years old. She opened herself fully again only to receive the spirit of her dead husband, Patrick, four months earlier.
When her husband was on his way to her to say goodbye, she’d sweated through the cries of soldiers falling into the mud around her and the deafening noise of battle.
Don’t go there, Elizabeth. You couldn’t help him.
She’d known the only help she could provide was to help him pass on in peace.
Elizabeth had expected Patrick’s ghost to visit her. For weeks, she braved the early spring chill to await his arrival. Bundled in layers, she waited on the beach for him. Their special place. When he finally came, he met her there. Patrick sat next to her on the blanket he’d given her as a birthday present when they were younger. The one with the purple daffodils. When she thought of his final goodbye, she thought of the daffodils she’d stared down at while he talked—as if the color of the flowers were the most important detail of the day.
Yet the broken dead man who sat beside her was.
Patrick’s once handsome face wore sadness like a caul. He’d wished she would remember him as the whole and healthy man who she clung to and kissed before he shipped off to war. When she pictured the delicate purple flowers imprinted on the fabric, she overlooked the bloodied gash in his side where he’d taken the bullet.
What’s your next project or what are you working on now?
I am currently working on two projects in tandem.
The first is a story that takes up where The Passenger left off. Like its predecessor, Watch Over Me, is a ghost story and answers some questions left open at the end of The Passenger. This paranormal romance takes place in 1968 and tells the continuing story of the Clemente family and their vineyard.
I’m also working on a short story that will be included in an anthology later this year. I can’t share much about that yet. However, I am learning the art of reducing a novel length work into a shorter piece. I’m finding I enjoy the delicate work of zoning in on the most important moment in time for the two characters that leads them to their happily ever after.
Once these two projects are ready for their next steps, I intend to return to working on my mermaid series.
Here are the pre-order buy links for The Passenger:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D6WBVJB9/
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-passenger-joie-lesin/1008401528?ean=2940185717905
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-passenger/id6504288982
The Wild Rose Press Book Page: https://wildrosepress.com/product/the-passenger/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/214564853-the-passenger
Joie's Social Contact links:
Website: https://www.jlesin.com
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/joielesin
Book Page: https://www.jlesin.com/thepassenger
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Thank you for hosting me, Rebecca Grace, and featuring The Passenger.
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