She writes stories—I could end my bio right there. I write stories. I have always written stories. Most are close-to-the-bone stories. Autofiction. I have spent my life trying to make sense of its strange journey. I was born in the Bronx to Louise and Morris Blech, mismatched and in love enough to have four children in five years. I am the eldest, of course. When I was four-and-a-half years old, my mother had a massive stroke that left her brain damaged, a quadriplegic and institutionalized for the next forty-five years. After a move to a modest home in New Rochelle, New York, my pop raised four children on his own. He is the inspiration for the ghost in The Other Beautiful People.
With a full academic scholarship, I went on to Syracuse University. On the first day of sophomore year, I met Richard Bock, the inspiration for Jack in The Other Beautiful People. We married right out of college—I’m sure most thought it would not last, a match between a pinball ball-loving, joke-ready sports nut, and a book-loving, way-too-serious, would-be writer. Thirty-nine years later, we are still happily together.
I always thought after Syracuse, after studying creative writing with Raymond Carver and Jack Gilbert, I would go directly on to an MFA program. Instead, dead-broke, with a dual degree in Communications from the Newhouse School of Public Communications and in English, I moved to New York City and found a job at USA Network. This was 1984. Cable networks were new. Everyone at Newhouse wanted a big broadcasting job. I could type a hundred words a minute. I wasn’t afraid of the new word processing system. I could start on Monday. I was hired by wonderful guys in the public relations department as their assistant. I thought it would last a year and then onto an MFA. Five years later, I was a manager in the public relations department.
From there, I joined American Movie Classics (AMC) and Bravo cable networks in public relations. For the next fourteen years, I did every job I could do. Most notably, as a senior vice president in marketing and public relations, I was part of the executive team that launched and ran the Independent Film Channel (IFC) and IFC Films. The job, and even more, the people, defined me—and consumed me. They are the inspiration for The Other Beautiful People.
The last inspiration is 9/11. I could not write this story without having worked and lived in the New York City area during this time. My memories, and some research, inspired The Other Beautiful People.
I write stories. At one point, however, in my early forties, I realized I wasn’t writing my own story at all. I had a toddler (and would soon have another baby). I had to learn how to be a mother while my father and mother neared the end of their lives and needed me more than ever. So, I quit the big job at IFC and IFC Films. I found a welcoming part-time MFA program at The City College of New York. And that husband of mine. He surprised me again. In his thirties, he had completed law school thinking he would be Jerry McGuire. Instead, he found his life’s calling with the National Labor Relations Board, and in 2012, he had an opportunity at headquarters in Washington DC. So, we moved our family from New York to Potomac, Maryland.
I was now writing stories all the time—and publishing a few. My young adult novels, LIE and Before My Eyes, had been published to critical acclaim by St. Martin’s Press. In 2018, I submitted a collection of short stories, Carry Her Home, my first attempt at writing close to the bone, to the Washington Writers’ Publishing House and won their fiction prize. Part of being published with this cooperative press was agreeing to volunteer for two years to help run the press—most agreed to judge. In 2022, I became co-president and prose editor. Then the pandemic, and it was hard to write.
The Other Beautiful People started as just a story at this difficult time. Five hundred words. Then, another. I write stories from micros to novels, I had to remind myself. I write stories.
Thank you, Regal House, for publishing The Other Beautiful People. You all inspire me.
