I’d like to welcome Patricia Black-Gould to the blog for a summer edition of #WriterWednesday.
A few of your favorite summer traditions:
Give me a beach chair, a book, and a patch of sand, and I’m happy. It’s even better if there’s a breeze and a few blue herons and seagulls around, eyeing my snacks. If it’s too hot to sit still, I trade the book for a splash in the waves.
Something summer-related that you’ll never do again:
I was born and raised in the Northeast and didn’t know the meaning of “hot” weather. So why not take Dad and my son to Disney World in Florida, in July? I broke into a sweat when I got off the plane, and my eyeglasses steamed up. It went downhill from there. But somehow, we made it to a few attractions before the heat turned us into human puddles. The upside? No lines. I guess some people have better survival instincts.
Something crazy you did on vacation:
Back in my hippie days, hitchhiking was the way to travel. Just stick out your thumb and trust that the road (and a stranger’s Chevy) would take you somewhere interesting. Most rides were harmless, but occasionally a driver had other expectations. A polite “no thanks” usually did the trick back then. Looking back, I marvel at the nerve it took and how lucky I was.
Something you’d never do again on vacation:
Hitchhike. That thumb is officially retired. I still can’t believe I did it, lived to tell the tale. But it was part of the lifestyle back then. If my parents had known. Well, let’s say thank goodness they didn’t.
Best summer memory:
Every year, like clockwork, my family packed up and headed to the Jersey Shore, long before the Jersey Shore reality TV folks claimed it. Back then, it was all sun, sand, and surf plus one very determined accordion player who serenaded the boardwalk with “Roll Out the Barrel” over and over and over. What can I say? It was the early 1960s. We weren’t exactly grooving to The Beatles just yet, but somehow, it worked.
Something you’d rather forget:
Summer is when I lost my family: my mom in June, my dad in July, and my grandmother in August. So summers can hold a lot of grief. But summer also has the laughter, the sunburns, the splashes, and the stories we built together. Those memories will remain in my heart forever.
Funniest summer story:
I’m going to combine funny and embarrassing. Why? Decades after the story below, I can laugh at what happened. But on that day in my childhood, everyone around me laughed, except me. Funny how the things that made us want to become invisible as kids become the stories we tell at parties decades later.
Most Embarrassing Summer Story:
I was about eight or nine, and one sweltering summer day, I headed over to a friend’s house to play in her cool basement. As I pulled the heavy basement door shut behind me. Bam! I slammed my middle finger in it. Not a little pinch. Oh no. This was a full-blown ER injury complete with stitches and a thick gauze bandage that looked like a giant marshmallow. Doctor’s orders? Keep the bandaged hand elevated so it can heal properly. But my family was headed for our annual trip to the South Jersey Shore, long before the Jersey Shore reality TV folks claimed it.
One evening, my cousin Doreen and I took a stroll on the bustling boardwalk. There I was, obediently holding up my left hand, when I started hearing giggles. Then snickers. Then full-on laughter. It took me a while, because subtle social cues weren’t my strong suit at age eight, but eventually I realized that my raised oversized bandaged middle finger looked like I was flipping off every sunburned tourist on the boardwalk. Mortified, I raced it back to the cottage and, if memory serves, spent the rest of the vacation hiding, either on the back porch or behind a shrub, but still obediently following doctor’s orders.
Your favorite thing to get from the ice cream truck:
Good Humor Creamsicle, the orange flavor, of course. That creamy orange-and-vanilla combo just says summer.
Some dessert that you wish you’d never bought:
Anything with blueberries. I don’t know why, but I don’t like them. If they sneak their way into a pie, a muffin, or a pancake, I’ll eat around them.
Most favorite place to write/edit in the summer:
My sunroom overlooks the backyard, where birds splash around in the birdbaths. I used to have feeders too, but the squirrels treated them like an Olympic sport, performing acrobatic stunts to get at the food, so those are long gone. But I will say they were a source of entertainment, but also a distraction. So, the feeders are gone, but the sunroom still provides me with just enough nature to enjoy without completely derailing my thoughts.
The worst place to try to write in the summer because of all the distractions:
The beach. While writing my novel, it seemed like a good idea until I spent hours on the phone with my co-author, jotting down notes and brainstorming. Steve lived in another state. Hours passed, and I realized never had the opportunity to enjoy the beach. I was too distracted by the work I was doing. Not a smart idea.
Favorite thing to do on a summer evening:
For this one, I have to go back to childhood summers on the Jersey Shore. Days were for the beach, but nights belonged to the boardwalks, with their endless piers full of rides, games, and cotton candy. And, of course, in my early teenage years, boys. My girlfriends and I would cruise those piers thinking we looked cool, too shy to talk to anyone, but bold enough to pretend we might. I miss the innocence of those nights and the sweetness of that era.
Least favorite thing about summer:
I lived in the Northeast until a few years ago, then traded snow for sunshine and moved to Florida. But summers here comes with its own set of challenges.
1. The humidity makes it almost impossible to breathe and be anywhere other than the beach or in an air-conditioned room during the day.
2. The hurricanes. We had just moved into our home when Sally rolled through. Thankfully, our house was spared, but we lost several trees. It was a small loss compared to what others faced, but it served as a quick lesson in the unpredictability of Florida summers.
The thing you like most about being a writer:
I love creating characters who feel like real people, flawed, funny, and full of potential. As they face challenges, they grow in ways that feel both honest and earned. With my background in psychology, I try to shape their journeys in ways that reflect the lessons we’re all learning, about hope, resilience, and finding strength when we least expect it.
The thing you like least about being a writer:
While writing All the Broken Angels, I had the gift of bringing my family back to life on the page. They’ve all passed on, but while writing, I could hear their voices, sit with them, and talk to them. Finishing the book felt like losing them all over again. I wasn’t prepared for that kind of grief. But they live on in the story, and always will, in the pages, in my heart, and in my soul.
Things you will run to the store for in the middle of the night:
Vanilla latte. It’s my coffee addiction. Nothing else could get me out the door at that hour.
Things you never put on your shopping list:
Fish. My husband eats it, but I can’t stand it. My mother couldn’t either. Neither can my son. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’ve always wondered if there’s such a thing as a family allergy to fish.
The thing that you will most remember about your writing life:
The fact that real people inspire my books throughout different time periods in history.
It’s important for me to honor them and by sharing their stories, I can keep history alive and continue to pass it on to future generations. All the Broken Angels is set during the Vietnam War era. The book is historical fiction, but it’s inspired by my family, a cousin who served in Vietnam, and the veterans I worked with as a clinical psychologist. My children’s book, The Crystal Beads, Lalka’s Journey, is inspired by a hidden child of the Holocaust and honors all those who suffered during a tragic time in our history.
Something in your writing life that you wish you could do over:
My background is in the theater world, where I have worked as an actor, director, and playwright. I then switched careers to psychology. It wasn’t until eight years ago that I started writing again in different genres. I believe I’ve accomplished a lot since then, but I wish I didn’t have such a long pause in between. But truthfully, I bring everything from those years, those experiences, that learning, that heartbreak, and insight into my writing now. Perhaps it wasn’t a true pause. Maybe it was preparation for who I’ve become as an author.
The best summer job I ever had:
Running a summer stock theater company. Producing, selecting plays, marketing, hiring actors, directors, crew—you name it, I did it. The kind of job where the to-do list never ended, but the energy never ran out. It was equal parts chaos and magic, and I loved every minute.
The worst summer job I ever had:
I once performed with a children’s theater company inside a department store. Our roles? Giant clumps of dirt. We were costumed from head to toe in brown globs resembling various types of dirt. I was “Gunk.” The vice president of the Hoover Vacuum Cleaner Company chased around the store. It was a promotion for their company. Not the way to win a Tony Award or an Oscar.
