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It started in 1980...

 n 1980, when I was 23, I did not understand that there’d been a big surge in the novel-publishing business during the past three decades, and that meant that a book could be perfectly terrible and still come out in hardback. I’d bought a novel with a promising title in a second-hand shop, and one Sunday afternoon I tried the first chapter and kept reading, thinking I surely would get to the well-written, interesting part soon. I said out loud, in my empty apartment, “I coul d write a better book than this.” No planning, no fear, no experience. I wrote this novel, Olé, Baby (originally titled Tutti Frutti ) over one very hot summer when I lived in a small apartment without air conditioning in Bloomington, Indiana. For reasons too boring to explain here, the book came out many years later as a spiral-bound chapbook, and not many of those, either. Now here it is, in online form. I see that it lacks polish, but I like it anyway. The plot is simple: in the late 1950s, te...

Chapters 1 to 5

Indianapolis, May 1958. Chapter One     “I got a girl named Daisy—she almost drive me crazy…” “That record is driving me crazy, Ramona,” I complained. My darling sister dear couldn’t hear me, being completely caught up in Little Richard’s spell. I frowned again at Chapter 4 of Adventures in American Literature, on which I had to give an oral report in two days, but how could Edward Everett Hale compete with rockin’ Richard? Or wait, wasn’t I still on Sir Walter Scott? I tried reading aloud. “Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said, ‘Tutti frutti, oh rootie’— Ramona!!”     “Whomp bomp a lu bop a wham bam boom!” Little Richard, with Ramona on backup vocals, screamed to a stop. I saw my sister’s arm snaking out to return the needle to the beginning. “Don’t you dare,” I snarled. Ramona sullenly replaced “Tutti Frutti” in her blue plastic record holder and extracted another disc. “And no Ricky Nelson, thank you,” I said. Even more...

Schapters 6 to 10

  Chapter Six   The next morning, Ramona jumped off the school bus and made for the Shortridge High lobby, with me right behind her. We rushed to the bulletin board, where a crowd of kids hovered, anxiously studying the list thumbtacked to the cork. Ramona got there before me and started reading off names. “Robert MacAdams, Janet Kessler, Kevin and the Kings—Can you believe It?—Debbie Schuler, David Flnchum …where are we? Regina, we’re not on here!” “What?” I shoved my way through the throng, and scanned the list. Our names weren’t on it. Neither of us could speak. Ernestine zoomed through the school’s front door, ready to congratulate us, but stopped short when she saw our stricken faces. She pushed her way up to the board and examined the list, then came back to us looking shocked. “Look, you guys, It must be a mistake,” she said. “Maybe you ought to go to the office and—” “Mrs. Fisher,” I said suddenly. “Ernestine and Ramona turned to look at me. “Didn’t you notice? She was...