Well, the house I’ve spent eight years visiting in Edmonds writing this book–the one with the downstairs Airbnb that my friend Pat owned, was sold a couple of months ago. 😦 Good for her though as it was time.

I have to say I felt quite a bit of anxiety when she shared that with me, but I dug deep and found a new place to stay in Edmonds and planned another trip there in December.

A couple of weeks ago our prosecutor friend Cathy reached out saying she was renting a lake house in Vermont and invited me (and the family) to come visit her there. I realized that I’d lost my notes of my initial interview with her so had reached out awhile back asking to interview her again. She’s such an integral part of the story that I’m devoting an entire chapter to her.

I really wanted to do it in person, so realized this was a perfect opportunity. I’m driving up there tomorrow morning by myself to have a much anticipated visit with her and complete my interview during it. I’m really looking forward to it and made some homemade marinara sauce from my fresh tomatoes to bring with me along with some other PA goodies (including wine!).

I decided in preparation for this trip, to take a few days alone at our lake house here in PA to work on the book and get my head around things before going, orienting myself to even what I need to ask her about.

It’s the first time I’ve really made an effort to work on the book in my own environment. The first couple of days were different than I’ve experienced before–tiring, lots of breaks. But I kept going, have read through all of my forty-two chapters, done quite of bit of editing and re-ordering some things.

Today was the first day that I felt completely in my groove writing again, so I feel good about being able to accomplish that in our home here.

I’ll share a snippet of a chapter I’ve worked quite a bit on in the last couple of days, yeah it’s rough material, but crucial to the understanding the heart of the book:

Marj sequestered the surplus packages of snacks and whatever leftover desserts floated around in a lower corner of the kitchen, that was nicknamed “The Drawer”.  It was clear we were to never, ever, enter that drawer for any reason without express permission. We also knew to never ask for any extra snacks or treats.

After a while, she installed an ugly chrome industrial lock on the outside of The Drawer—the kind you might find on an outdoor shed. She marred her new blue wood kitchen cabinetry to control us in that way with that garish, imposing hardware with a keyed padlock drilled in to the outside.  I’m not sure what prompted that boundary. Maybe the Twinkie count was off that day.

Marj was completely in control; right up until the moment she completely lost control. Violence also erupted quickly in to the marriage, swift but hidden.

She behavior-modified us to the point that when her systems and assignments–for children who never needed them–were ineffective, she would grab the nearest object and start beating the shit out of us with it.  A coat hanger, a kitchen utensil, a coffee cup hurled from the front of the camper to the back in rage, her stiff hand across our face/legs/butt. A heavy bristled hairbrush she kept on her nightstand was a mainstay. She had a quick, unpredictable temper that broke from 0 to 160 in a flash. We couldn’t always figure out what had triggered it.