A Work in Progress

The Gambler's Daughter Chapter 1

Spoiler Alert

The Gambler’s Daughter takes place about ten years after the close of So Long As It’s Wonderful. If you don’t want spoilers, you might want to save this post for later. But honestly, it’s probably not giving away anything you didn’t see coming.

The Set Up

I have a draft for a new Roosevelt County Novel about Maxine and her best friend Cleo, ten-year old girls growing up in Eastern New Mexico in the 1930s. Think Little House on the Prairie, but on the edge of the Dust Bowl and Pa is a gambler.

In these installments, I’ll pull back the curtain on my revision process. I’ll post chapter drafts-in-progress, complete with the typos, question marks, and random “add more here!” notes to self. I’ll explain what has me “stuck” in the chapter or what problems I’m still working to resolve.

For aspiring writers, I hope it gives you permission to write terrible drafts, and learn to work with them to make mediocre drafts, and then keep working until you have something great.

For fans of Roosevelt County fiction, you’ll get early access to my next novel and see how the story unfolds along the way. You’ll also be invited (begged) to give feedback.

Chapter 1

“John Musick, you’re being stubborn!” Momma said. Her dark hair slipped out of her bun and stuck to her temples.

“Maybe I am, Willie, but I’m not the only one,” Daddy answered. He lifted a pot of hot water from the stove and added it to what was already in the washtub, reserving enough to fill two tea cups. He and Momma carried the cups into their bedroom and closed the door.

Being the oldest, Maxine was expected to have the first bath, and unlike her brothers, she considered it a privilege. Farm life in 1934 made for dirty work and play, and the water grew increasingly murky as Saturday night went on.

Two years ago, when she’d turned eight, Momma insisted that everyone leave the kitchen while Maxine bathed. At first, she missed being surrounded by the family’s conversation and activity. Recently, though, she appreciated her mother’s acknowledgment that she was growing up.

She sank into the water, grateful it was still warm after Momma’s bath. She scrubbed her body with the small cake of soap left out for her on a dish beside the washtub. The smell of lye soap brought to mind the springtime when they would render lard in the iron pot outside, add the lye, and ladle it into molds for their baths. It was the smell of Saturday nights and her parents’ weekly argument.

Maxine rushed to get herself clean then folded herself into the water to rinse. She shivered as she stood up and rushed to dry off and pull on her nightgown. She looked down at its hem just above her ankles. It was hard to be certain, but she thought the nightgown was shorter than the last time she’d checked—a sure sign that she was finally growing taller. Her parents came back in as she combed her dark bob. Last week Momma cut her shoulder-length hair so that it barely covered her ears, and she wondered if the style made her look older, more mature.

When Roosevelt County’s Methodist churches took to meeting once a month in order to share the cost of a pastor, Claude was sure baths would also be cut by three-fourths. Momma saw things differently. As a result, her eight-year old brother had a habit of disappearing after supper on Saturdays. Six-year old Gordon became the reluctant second-in-line for the washtub. He was not afforded the same privilege of privacy that Maxine had so he undressed and stepped into the tub quickly, anxious to conceal his naked body. Small for his age, he could completely immerse himself in the water, though it did little to hide his scrawny form and the pale skin that contrasted with the dark tan of his face, neck, and hands. He reminded Maxine of a plucked chicken.

“I don’t see what you have against them,” Momma said to Daddy as she handed Gordon the soap. He scoured his fair skin until it turned red, releasing the bar’s biting odor.

 “Willie, you know I have nothing against them,” Daddy answered. He lit a cigarette, leaned back, and crossed one slender leg over the other before continuing. “Some of them were the first folks to give me work when I came West, and they’ve all been good friends and neighbors.”

“Then you’ll come tomorrow,” Momma said. She put out her hand, indicating to Gordon that she wanted the soap back.

 “I would come, but your dad is on a mission to get me to join up. I don’t need membership or Jim Tollett’s oversight to sit in church or talk to God. I can do both in my own way.”

Momma dropped the conversation, as she did every week. Maxine’s parents didn’t argue much, but the issue of church came up as regularly as bath time. They knew Daddy was a believer, but in all matters between him and Grandfather Tollett, he would act on his own terms.

Maxine didn’t worry about their disagreements over church. When her parents fought about how to make the money last or how to keep Claude in line, the air heated up and Maxine could feel the tension on her skin. There was no heat in their church argument. It felt more like play acting, each staying in character and playing their assigned role.

Momma gave Gordon’s head a vigorous scrubbing but didn’t speak again until she told him to stand up. Maxine saw his hesitation and held a towel out for her brother as she turned her head. She felt him snatched it and watched him scurry off to the room the boys shared. Momma turned to Daddy and Maxine. “Will y’all try to find Claude?”

As Maxine stepped toward the boys’ room to check under the bed, she heard Daddy go to the back door and pretend to yell.

“Run while you can, son! There’s an evangelist/Methodist/preacher/missionary/crusader after you and she won’t rest till you’ve been in the water!”

Momma’s laughter carried through the house then, and Maxine smiled. She loved the way Momma’s laugh could do that. When she was tickled by something, her eyes crinkled up in the corners as she threw her head back, and all of her soft parts would bounce up and down. No one made her laugh like that as often as Daddy.

Gordon came behind Maxine dressed in his long underwear with the hems of the legs and sleeves rolled up. She wondered if her youngest brother would seem less scrawny if he weren’t always wearing oversized hand-me-downs. He climbed onto the bed, inadvertently locating their missing brother. Claude pulled his head out from the quilts and his finger over his lips.

Maxine complied, not out of allegiance to the scoundrel, but because she wanted to take advantage of her parents’ good humor before giving him up. She turned back into the kitchen and stated without prologue, “I’ve been thinking about my birthday.”

            “Birthday?” Daddy asked. “How old are you gonna be? Is it seven or eight this year?”

            “Daddy, you know I’ll be ten on Monday,” Maxine said. She was encouraged that he was still in a joking mood, but she’d gathered her nerve and needed to press on without interruption.

            “Remember how Freeda Mae had us girls over for dinner last month? I was wondering if I could invite them all to have dinner at our house tomorrow.”

            “We have dinner on the church grounds tomorrow,” Momma said.

            “I know,” Maxine said. She knew better than to ask the same question twice, but her parents hadn’t said no so she continued. “Us girls aren’t really included in the quarterly meeting.”

 “I’m not sure how your Grandfather would feel about it,” Momma said.

            Daddy, who had appeared ambivalent until then, spoke up. “Sounds like a fine idea to me!”

“Maybe Daddy could drive us home?” Maxine suggested. She never imagined that her plan would also get Daddy to come to church, but it seemed worth trying.

“I could do that,” he said.

            “So you’re going to church?” Momma asked him.

            “I’ll drive there and drive back home,” he said. “Does that count?”

Momma didn’t answer him. Instead she turned to Maxine. “You think you can manage dinner by yourselves?”

 “Daddy will be here, so we won’t be all alone,” Maxine answered.

“Well, I guess that’s right,” Momma said. She paused, then spoke again. “If it’s alright with their parents, the girls can come for dinner. I just don’t know what you’ll eat. We’ll see what we can come up with in the morning.

“Thank you, Momma,” said Maxine. She gave her daddy a hug and whispered, “Claude’s hiding in his bed.”

The Issues

I need a beginning, a paragraph or two before the (current) opening dialogue. The story will be told through Maxine’s eyes, but I want the book to open with the spotlight on her, not her parents. What is she doing?

My challenge throughout this novel has been keeping Maxine interesting. That’s not to say the real Maxine wasn’t interesting, but stories need conflict. The real-life Maxine’s primary characteristic was peacemaker. She got along with everyone and wanted everyone to get along. That quality makes for a beautiful person, but a boring protagonist. Think Enneagram 9.

What do you picture Maxine doing in this opening scene? What would grab the reader’s attention while staying true to her character? Even better, what would grab the reader’s attention and fully capture her character?

I also need to choose a word for Daddy’s joke when he yells out at Claude. Which of the options do you think lands better?