Welcome, Joanne.
Tell us about what you write.
Reinvention is a recurring theme in my life and in my written work. Twelve years ago, I retired from a 31-year teaching career and launched a second act as a writer. I have written over 500 articles and book reviews and six novels that have been traditionally published. I have also contributed to several anthologies.
My primary goal—you might even call it my mission—is to feature more boomers and their older siblings. To that end, I have introduced an eclectic group of female protagonists, among them a middle-aged, ex-mermaid who has been abandoned on the fog-drenched shores of southwest England, a 50something lottery winner who is the primary suspect in a murder investigation involving four dead blondes, and an octogenarian who continues to inspire her family and friends.
What was your inspiration for No More Secrets?
Angelica Delfino takes a special interest in the lives of her three nieces, whom she affectionately calls the daughters of her heart. Sensing that each woman is harboring a troubling, possibly even toxic secret, Angelica decides to share her secrets—secrets she had planned to take to the grave. Spellbound, the nieces listen as Angelica travels back six decades to reveal an incredulous tale of forbidden love, tragic loss, and reinvention. It is the classic immigrant story upended: an Italian widow’s transformative journey amid the most unlikely of circumstances.
Inspired by Angelica’s example, the younger women share their “First World” problems and, in the process, set themselves free.
But one heartbreaking secret remains untold...
I was inspired by The Bridges of Madison County (1995 film based on the best-selling novel by Robert James Waller). Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood deliver stellar performances as Francesca Johnson (Italian war bride) and Robert Kincaid (National Geographic photojournalist). They have a four-day love affair that forever changes them.
Would you like to share any words of advice for fellow writers in the trenches?
Use your “waiting time” effectively. While querying, start writing the next book in the series or an entirely new project. Alternatively, you could sign up for a series of workshops or take an online course. Keep your skills sharp.
What was the hardest part of the story to write?
I struggled with the epilogue. In the original draft, I had ended on a bittersweet note (more bitter than sweet, according to my editor). Projecting one year into the future was a challenge, one I hadn’t encountered in any of my previous work.
Buy it online: Amazon (US) ~ Amazon (Canada) ~ Amazon (UK) ~ Amazon (Australia)
Giveaway!!!
Joanne Guidoccio will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Find out more here or below.
An excerpt…
A tale of forbidden love, tragic losses, and reinvention…
March 1959
Caterina clutched my arm; her anxiety had returned. “I don’t remember what he looks like, and I don’t know if he remembers me. I was only nine years old when he left for Canada.”
I tried not to show my surprise. I had assumed Martino had visited and met with Caterina. Had he gone along with a matchmaker’s suggestion, not bothering to visit and see if they were compatible?
I plastered a smile on my face, hoping my own anxiety about Caterina’s future was well hidden. “Don’t worry. The crowd will disperse soon enough.”
She continued to fuss. “I wish I had more color. I’m pale as a ghost, and I feel so weak. What if he doesn’t like what he sees?”
I turned and grabbed her shoulders. “Stop putting yourself down. Martino is the lucky one.”
She shook her head. “I wish I had half your courage.” She continued to glance nervously around the room.
I was trying to think of a comment that might reassure her when I heard a low, booming voice. “Caterina Spadafora. Angelica Delfino. Caterina—”
“Over here,” Caterina cried out. She turned to me. “He’s even more handsome than I remember. I wish I looked better.”
I started to respond and stopped, realizing that someone else would now have the job of reassuring Caterina. And, upon closer inspection, I came to the conclusion that Martino Perrone was ill-suited to the task. He was handsome enough: tall, well-built, with a full head of black, wavy hair and a ruddy complexion. The picture of blooming health, he provided a stark contrast to Caterina’s washed-out appearance. I caught the quick look he exchanged with his companion, a stout, older woman. Neither one appeared too pleased. It didn’t bode well for Caterina.
