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FOREWORD  

By Michael LaRocca

I've never been asked to write a foreword before, so I can only hope I don't turn readers away from WANDERER. It's certainly not my intention.

I won't tell you my entire writing history, because it'd bore you. I won't tell you how I "met" Jeff Gaines, because I can't remember. Either he wandered over to my website or I wandered over to his. I've never worked with him, or met him in person, even though we grew up about 30 miles away from each other.

I live in Shaoxing, China, where I teach English at a Shaoxing University. I also live in a perpetual state of burnout. But Jeff's writing compelled me to stay up late reading it, even though I had no time to do this. It reminded me of why I became a writer, editor, reviewer, and self-styled writing guru in the first place.

Prior to becoming a teacher, I spent two years as a full-time author and editor. I published four books, edited maybe 70 more, and reviewed or simply read hundreds. Reading has been my lifelong addiction, and writing my most powerful dream. Jeff's writing voice is one that I wish I saw more often.

My best writing isn't fiction at all. It's called RISING FROM THE ASHES, and it tells how Mom raised two sons alone. It ends with her death, when I was 26. So what's my book about? Life. Instead of making up a story, I simply wrote what I remembered. It's a story worth telling, so I told it.

WANDERER is fiction. And yet, it shares the same qualities as my tale. It's not so much a "story" as it is life. I am extremely jealous of both Jeff's imagination and his realism.

"Write what you know," says the old adage, so I did. But I look at Jeff's ability to write about someone who is not him, and his unflinching realism and perceptiveness, and I'm tempted to dub him a "master."

I don't want this Foreword to turn into a book review. I don't want to tell you what happens in WANDERER. I don't want to heap loads of well-deserved praise on a book that you already hold in your hands. And I don't want to delay you reading it any longer than I already have.

Great writing isn't just about a gripping story, or description that takes you where the author envisions, or flawless technique that makes you forget you're reading a book, or characters so real that you know them and remember them after you've turned the last page.

Great writing has all this, but it's also a journey to another place. A place you enjoy visiting. You hold such a book in your hands. Turn the page and let your journey begin.

Michael LaRocca

October 10, 2004

Shaoxing, Zhejiang, China


Michael LaRocca is an author, teacher, editor and all-around great guy from Tampa, Florida. He  his wife Jan, who is a talented Artist and Teacher in her own right, have recently relocated to Thailand from China. You can learn more about them and their amazing talents, adventures, services (and cat) here:

www.Chinarice.org

His free monthly on-line newsletter, "Who Moved My Rice?" is absolutely phenomenal. Besides book and current event reviews, Michael gives a blog-style insight to his fascinating life abroad. His wit is sharp, his reviews are honest and his outlook is quite often downright zany.


 





Wanderer
 






Can you hear me ... Talkin' in my mind?

I can feel you ... You're with me all the time ...

Every time I close my eyes ... I see your face ..."

- Lustral


 



                                                                   Chapter 1

                                                           January 9th, 1969




                                       Sarah gazed up the long cement staircase.

              She looked at the black mildew that was slowly being covered by the snow.

                              She shivered at a short gust of Pennsylvania winter,

                                      Then started up the stairs ... her sled in tow.

  At the top of the stairs, she threw her rope around a headstone like she was tying off a horse. She looked at the frozen metal spigot and decided not to take off her mittens.

 The handle gave no resistance as she turned it wide open.

 She stepped back and looked with a satisfied grin at the waterfall that was now making its way down the long staircase. She unhitched her sled, headed past the caretaker’s horse barn and across the cemetery towards another day at school. She grinned at her breath as it turned to vapor in front of her.

"Cold enough." She thought.

 She loved school; she loved all those wonderful things that tickled the inside of her head as she learned them. It was her classmates that she hated. Well, most of them any way. She had a few friends but, for the most part, they were bullies and snobs. Her day at Five-points Elementary school was un-eventful.

 She spent her entire recess daydreaming about the thrill ride she was going to take on her way home. Her best friend, Lisa, could barely keep up as they ran across the driving range towards the cemetery. Each was nervously on the lookout for incoming golf balls, looking ahead at their next few steps and then back over their shoulders as they ran.

 They didn't even realize that the range was closed for the winter.

 They hopped through the cemetery fence and as they rounded the corner of the caretaker's barn; they froze in fear ... The big boys from up the street had found her icy stairs!

 They hid inside the barn and peeped at the boy's as they zoomed down her makeshift luge track.

 "With their weight they must be going really fast!" Sarah thought.

 She wished she could see them as they crashed, whooping and hollering, into the snow banks at the bottom of the stairs. Their shouts of glee echoed through the shallow valley between the cemetery and Sarah's house. After several runs, one of the boys' mothers called out across the cemetery from her back door.

 She was sternly reminding him that he was grounded until his grades improved. The other boys laughed and teased him until they realized that it was his sled ... and that the competition was now over. They threw snow at each other as they ambled off though the tombstones.

 The girls let out a sigh of relief, then walked over to the top of the steps. Sarah was a little disappointed that the ice was now roughed up, even broken in some spots. She was sure though, that the thrill would be the same. She had watched the boys do it last winter and was really sore because they wouldn't let her have a try.

 But now ... it was her turn! ... She had waited a whole year for this!

 Lisa looked in terror at the distance between them and the bottom of the stairs.

 The steep staircase seemed smothered on either side with headstones.

 Some tall, some short. Some wide, some thin ... All scary.

 Lisa shook her head, "I don't think this is such a good idea, Sarah."

 She grabbed Sarah's hand and begged her not to do it.

 Sarah looked at her with a mischievous grin.

 She shook loose of Lisa's grasp and lined up her Red Rocket with the stairs.

 Laying out flat on the sled, she held herself back with the tiptoes of her galoshes.

 Her heart was racing as she begged Lisa to give her a push.

 Lisa didn't say a word as she backed away, still shaking her head.

 The terror in her eyes made her look as though she was backing away from a large, snarling dog.

 Her imagination was running wild, she'd waited so long for this ... Sarah turned her eyes down the staircase ... She could hear the crowd roar as the Olympic announcer read her name ...

 Taking a deep breath, she pushed off with her toes ...


***********************************************************
 This is an excerpt from the first chapter of Jeff Gaines’ exciting first Novel “Wanderer”.

 If you are interested in publishing or representing Jeff as an agent or publicist or if you just would like to buy a copy of this thrilling tale and read it …


                                 Contact Jeffy via Email: GoJeffy@gmail.com
 

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