About the Book

Behind the Book

You’ve probably seen the ads for MasterClass pop up on your computer screen or television. Through these online classes, one can learn cooking from Gordon Ramsay, conservation from Jane Goodall, comedy writing from Steve Martin, acting from Natalie Portman, and so on.

A few years ago, when I had published three novels and was working on my fourth, my attention snagged on an ad for a class by a bestselling thriller writer. I was intrigued. Yes! This was clearly what the next step in my career was meant to be. “I’ll write a thriller!” I thought. “And I’ll quickly become a gazillionaire. This is going to be so easy. Thank you, MasterClass!” I joined this writer’s class and tried to absorb everything I could about outlining and plotting and raising the stakes and pacing.

I really enjoyed my MasterClass. But I remain a terrible outliner. My plots come together after many drafts—never before the book is written. Now that I’m six books in and partway finished with my seventh I’m mostly at peace with the fact that I might never write a tightly outlined, intricately plotted thriller that sells in every airport from here to Timbuktu.

And yet, one thing happened during that MasterClass that is a big part of why you’re holding this book in your hands right now. The instructor mentioned a daily schedule of writing in the morning, eating lunch with his wife, and then going back to write more in the afternoon. And this is the part of the class I grabbed onto. I no longer wondered, “How can I raise the stakes for my characters in the first chapter?” but, instead, “What is life like for the wife of this writer? What is lunch like? Do they cook? Eat sandwiches, grilled or otherwise? Order out? Perhaps, maybe on Fridays, dine at a local establishment? Who does the dishes?” On and on went the list of questions marching through my head, and before long I had a character for the book that became The Islanders, my fifth novel. She was Dorothy Puckett, wife of bestselling thriller author Leonard Puckett. Soon my imagination gave birth to Dorothy and Leonard’s only son, Anthony Puckett, whose point of view became one of the three main ones in The Islanders.

I have never met the writer who taught my class. By all accounts he is a lovely individual, generous with both his wealth and his time, and I have nothing but admiration for him and all that he has achieved. Everything un-nice about Leonard Puckett is one hundred percent fiction. I’m telling this story only to illustrate that from a tiny seed an entire novel can grow.

Well, part of a novel. After a time, I created some company for the Pucketts, my other main characters: Joy, a single mother and small business owner, and Lu, a secret food blogger posing as a stay-at-home dad. But what small business should Joy run? I knew I wanted it to serve some sort of delicious baked good—I named the bakery, Joy Bombs, before I named Joy. Here I turned to local inspiration. In the town where I live, Newburyport, Massachusetts, there’s a wonderful bakery called Chococoa that specializes in mini whoopie pies. I’ve been a fan as long as the place has existed. I asked the owners, Julie Ganong and Alan Mons, if I could borrow their whoopie pies and put them in my book. Not only did they grant me enthusiastic permission, they gave me a tour of their kitchen, explained the intricacies of their machinery, and even agreed to host the book launch party at the bakery. (If you have never been to Newburyport, put it and Chococoa on your next New England travel itinerary. And if you’d like to try your hand at creating your own whoopie pies, please see the recipe included in this book.)