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My office has floor to ceiling bookshelves, organized by topic. Most are for my full-time job, which is a psychology professor at Judson University. But several shelves are devoted to my writing projects. Among the World War Two materials are a biography of movie star, Audrey Hepburn, who lived through WWII. Another is by the woman who was the teenage assistant to Walraven van Hall, a major Resistance leader. I can’t tell you what he did because I’m saving that for a sequel, but he basically hookwinked the Nazis financially and they never found out about it, even after they captured him and tortured him. Along with the books I have printouts of online articles, as well as contact information of people who lived through that awful war as children and now are in their eighties on nineties.
My desk has a 20-ounce glass of water because I drink 80-100 ounces per day to keep my mind sharp. I also need vigorous exercise each day, so in the summer my bike is parked outside my office if I rode to work that day. Down the hall is the stairway and I often go up and down the six flights of stairs to pump oxygen to my brain. The Greeks were right. A sound mind comes from a sound body. What? Did you think writers were pasty desk jockeys stuffing their faces with unhealthy snacks while they otherwise sat still and typed on their computers? 😊 Instrumental music wafts from my speakers, usually classical or instrumental jazz, to keep my mind focused. To write fiction you need a vivid imagination, but that same imagination can contribute to distractions. My imagination is like a young child who likes to wander and ask questions. It takes me to some interesting places, but it can also take me away from the task at hand, hence the music. This morning for example, I am at home, but I went for a walk, I’ve drunk 40 ounces of water as of 8:45 a.m., and I’m listening to Mozart (thank you, YouTube).
Sometimes my workspace is outside. I may drive or bike to a park where I can sit, read, and revise a recent draft of a chapter. The change of scenery refreshes my brain for the hard task of continued concentration.
It's the Netherlands in late 1944. Thirteen-year-old Dirk's Papa left to fight with the Resistance. Then Mama died. When the Gestapo snatched his older sister and he learned they were coming for him next, Dirk left home in the middle of the night. He had his pockets stuffed with food, his little sister asleep in his arms, and his heart heavy with a dark secret.
Enjoy an Excerpt
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Dirk Ingelse’s eyes flew open, and he raised his head off the pillow. Who could be knocking on the front door? Gestapo? His insides turned to ice.
The pounding resumed, the sound carrying easily up the stairs into Dirk’s bedroom. It didn’t sound like the rap of knuckles—it was more like the thumping of an angry fist. Or the butt of a rifle.
It had to be the Gestapo. They had been doing more raids lately, and they often came at night. Who else would pummel the front door of the Ingelse’s farmhouse in the middle of the night and risk getting arrested?
Dirk rolled out of bed and crept to his bedroom window. Easing the curtain open a bit, he kept his face away from the window, like Papa had taught him. He couldn’t see a vehicle. But what if they hid their car? Dirk’s right hand shook.
He couldn’t hide. They would tear the place apart to find him. And he couldn’t run—they would have the place surrounded. He’d heard stories. His right hand shook harder. It had been doing that a lot ever since—
The assault on the door resumed, even louder this time. “Open up!” growled a deep voice.
Dirk turned from the window and crept down the stairs.
About the Author:Life conspired to get Rob Currie to write Hunger Winter: A World War II Novel. His father is a World War II veteran and his wife is Dutch. An award-winning author, it was only a matter of time before he would focus his writing on World War II. Research for Hunger Winter included numerous books, interviews with Dutch WWII survivors, and three weeks in the Netherlands. His investigation revealed astonishing details about the Dutch experience of the war, which begged to be turned into a book.
Born and raised in the suburbs of Detroit, he graduated from Cornerstone University and went on to earn a master's degree and doctorate in psychology from St. Louis University. He has taught psychology at Judson University since 1987. His hobbies include playing basketball, cooking, and writing poetry.
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ReplyDeleteI like the excerpt, sounds good.
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