The Final Draft Tavern

The Final Draft Tavern

The Final Draft Tavern is the fictional home-away-from-home for the Speakeasy Scribes and their literary characters, who will appear here (and in upcoming box sets). The Final Draft has always been a hotbed of rebellion and dissent, its backroom a legendary locale for activists, protestors, and resistance movements. The tavern has been in existence since 1068, and is accessible from every country and continent, in every time period -- past, present, and future. (Maybe you can find a portal in your neighborhood...) The bookstore, the bar, and the building, have been passed down for centuries, through generations of the Marchand family, holders of the keys to the secrets it keeps.
The Final Draft Tavern
The Final Draft Tavern2 days ago
Revolution comes in many forms. Like the size and shape of a woman's makeup compact.

In The Times They Are A-Changin', Melinda and Moonflower Marchand learn their first lessons about women's bodies, and sexual freedom, from a group soon to be known as the Boston Women's Health Collective. #FinalDraftTavern #WomensLib
The Final Draft Tavern
The Final Draft Tavern3 days ago
A question I have heard a few times now since Blind Tribute was released is "But why doesn't Harry get along with President Lincoln?" My novelette in Rejoice and Resist, "The Press Wrestles with the President," begins to answer that question, and this blog post provides the historical context.

http://wp.me/pyR9A-Ct
The Final Draft Tavern
The Final Draft Tavern4 days ago
In "A Handful of Dust," featured in Rejoice and Resist, a family of immigrants in New York City must work to make ends meet during the Great Depression and while another World War looms...

***

One more stop to make, Regina reminded herself, and then home again for the night. She glanced up at the bakery’s awning, as faded now as when Darius had first brought her here, when his eyes had seemed to pick out the glow shining from every window between the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges. Now, green fabric with illegible white words shifted in the breeze, though the placards tilted against the glass boldly announced fresh loaves for five cents and two buns for a penny.

A welcome warmth greeted her as she opened the door, holding tight to Matis despite his efforts to escape from her, to run up to the counter and press his face to the cases as he salivated over delicate rolls and pastries they could not afford.

Apart from the heat, there was the aroma that struck her, pushing out the odors of the city that still hovered beyond the walls of the bakery. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she absorbed those smells, of yeast and butter and cardamom, tucking them away in her memory with the hope she could bring them out again when she most needed to be reminded of them.

Two customers stood before her, older women clad in their heavy coats and scarves, clutching knit bags laden with potatoes, carrots, garlic, and wrinkled apples. Behind her, Lina and Audra spoke in too-loud whispers, giggling about stockings and other things that shouldn’t have been mentioned outside their bedroom. Regina looked back and silenced the two of them with a lift of her eyebrow, though she knew they’d pick up the thread again when they thought she couldn’t hear them.

“Mama,” Matis said, his own voice a whisper against her elbow as he pressed himself to her side. “Mama, can I have—” He nodded towards a tray of pastries, bearing strips of dough sugared and twisted into the shapes of candy canes and Christmas wreaths. “Can I?”

“Hush.” She tightened her grip on his hand, then relented when he winced at the pressure. “Two loaves. Nothing more.”

It was the baker’s son behind the counter today, an apron streaked with flour tied round his waist, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal lean forearms dusted with blond hair. He glanced up over the heads of the old women, bright blue eyes meeting hers before they darted to something behind her left shoulder. She looked back at Lina and Audra, pink-cheeked from their walk in the cold, dark hair framing faces full of youth and good health. So that was how it would be, she thought, as the rush of years swept over her, her daughters transformed from girls to young women before her eyes.
The Final Draft Tavern
The Final Draft Tavern4 days ago
Another story featured in Rejoice and Resist, coming soon. #amwriting fiction that matters. #scribes #writebetterbooks