Well, I just sent my new story set on a Maine island off to my editor. I’ve been working on it for…it seems like forever! The title isn’t set in stone but here is the first paragraph:
There’s something about islands. Something special, something different about being surrounded by water. On Great Spruce Island, a tiny blip on the map, a storm had ripped across the island in June leaving behind a thick, blanketing fog. It had snuck in over the rocks, into the coves. It crept through the silent woods brushing over ferns and moss. But it felt as if the storm had brought something else with it, unsettling and fearful, that put everyone on edge. Later into the fall and winter, as islanders hung out in the general store for morning coffees or pulled chairs closer to their wood stoves at night, they all agreed: that summer had been the strangest anyone could remember. Old friendships fell apart, ancient feuds flared, and new desires took hold.
It all started, however, in such small ways that no one took much notice.