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| Abandoned Warehouse |
Factories make great
settings, including for romance novels
By
Kitsy Clare
I’m
a factory geek. Yup. I’ve been obsessed with spooky, spidery warehouses ever
since I lived in a defunct shoe factory in Boston while I was in art school. It
was a mecca for creative souls, and we formed a funky-utopian tribe with a dance
bar in the basement and a veggie garden on the roof. The place still had
barrels of shoe soles in the halls and mildewed promo flyers in the basement
from 1920, announcing they’d utilized the latest trend in production line
speed: workers flying around on roller-skates! My very first novel was set
there.
The
Boston shoe plant was awesome. But my favorite factory ever is the Domino Sugar
warehouse in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I moved around the corner from it, before
Williamsburg grew into the mega-hipster paradise it is today. In the sketchy days
when my car battery would get stolen and I’d buy it back from the local gas
station for $25. I recall strolling by the place, ever eager to see which magnificent
vessel was docked on its East River port. They sailed in from Cuba, Brazil, Thailand
to name a few. I thrilled to the colorful flags flapping on the rigs, and the
idea that the boats came from such exotic, faraway places.
One
afternoon, I took my notebook over and interviewed the night watchman. My senses
infused with the distinct burnt sugar scent, and the sight of its walls covered
in a skim of blackened sugar. He told me stories of workers falling into vats
and boiling alive, tales of hearing their subsequent ghostly sounds as their
spirits floated around at odd hours.
I
was hooked! I wrote an outline with the intention of penning a freaky urban
fantasy. Then, in a stroke of bad luck, my notes were lost when I went out
drinking with friends and left them in a bar. No doubt, some fool thief got a
handful of strange scratchings. Yet, the setting stayed embedded in my mind and
in 2013 I finally thought up the perfect plotline for the fictional sugar
factory.
In Private Internship artist Sienna Karr
lands an interview for a high-level internship with bad-boy sculptor Casper
Mason, or Caz. Guess where he lives and works? In the Domino Sugar Factory,
which I renamed the Schneitryn Sugar Factory (You have to read the novel to
learn why) “Sugar, no shit!” as the newly hired Sienna remarks. Rich, famous
Caz has bought the entire factory, and uses the hundreds of existing sugar bags
for his sculptures. A summary:
Sienna’s bestie,
Harper warned her not to intern for famous bad boy artist, Casper Mason. After
all, he just fired Harper who helped Sienna get the interview. But the moment
Sienna sees Casper—or Caz—sweaty and practically shirtless and swinging from
chains while he works on his sculpture, she’s hooked. He’s the richest, hottest
artist in New York, and he lives in the fabulous Williamsburg Sugar Factory.
But he’s also an incorrigible game-player, who seems to relish testing Sienna’s
loyalty with a string of unsettling tests.
She knows she should
get away fast. But by the time Sienna sneaks into his locked storage room and
begins to unearth his dark and terrifying secret, she’s fallen way too hard for
the handsome, charismatic Caz.
The
story continues. Little did I know that in 2014 the Domino Sugar Factory would
be a fixture in the news; that the neighborhood landmarks committee would be in
an uproar about its demise and redevelopment, and that sculptress Kara Walker
would set up her sugar sphinx mama in that doomed place. Yes, reality is as
strange as fiction. Kara explains through her little sugar slave boys who are
literally melting—an arm dropping off here, a nose there, that the sugar trade
was a very nasty business, fueled by oppressed slaves hauled in from Africa to
the Caribbean and elsewhere.
Coincidentally,
in Private Internship the sculptor, Caz
quotes from Voltaire’s Candide. A
horrified Candide comes across a slave boy in what is now Guyana who has lost
an arm and leg. The boy explains: “When we work in the sugar mills and get a
finger caught in the machinery, they cut off the hand; but if we try to run
away, they cut off a leg … it is the price we pay for the sugar you eat in
Europe.”
Caz
is no fool; he’s aware of the dark side of his spun-sugar art medium.
Ironically, as he tears three sugar packets and pours one after the other into
his gourmet blend coffee, he says to Sienna in all seriousness, “Sugar, it’s
delicious yet deadly, sweet yet bitter to the arteries. It’s no good for
anyone.”
Sugar
might not be a sunny trade, but the infamous factory is good for a sweet game
of tag. In Sienna’s words: “In two of the corners Caz has deposited huge piles
of sugar packets—ones tediously counted
by spurned interns?
My attention is drawn to the larger of the
piles. Its packets are shifting ever so slightly. Ah! The jig’s up; Caz is
hiding under it. Sugary mosh pit here I come! I tiptoe forward, ever so slowly and pounce, landing with a
shockingly loud crunch. Burrowing down into the packets, my hand hits a
leathery cowboy boot. I grip onto the top lip for all its worth. “Tag!” I
shriek. “Gotcha.”
Caz explodes upward, like a giant cake
surprise, his hair all at wild angles. Grabbing me by the waist he pulls me
down. We wrestle like kids, sending packets flying in all directions. He’s
stronger than me, so it’s not long before his corded arms circle around me and
pin me there, some big kid winning one over on his little brother or sister.
But Caz is not like a
big brother, not at all. Not sure what we are now, as he gazes at me with his
deep brown eyes, animated, sparkly and questioning, wide, as if he’s seeing me
clearly for the very first time. “You’re fun,” he whispers, his sculptural,
perfect mouth so near mine.”
It’s
also great for blustery roof walks, mounting large-scale sculpture, and for a
terrifying turn of events, when, in a storm of Sandy-esque proportions, the
power and lights blow out and Sienna finds herself utterly lost in an unheated
wing of the inky-dark behemoth.
“I remember fumbling and falling. Unsteadily,
I stand and graze my palms along the tapered sides. No corners. I’m stuck in
one of Caz’s sugar cauldrons! Except this one is massive. Reaching up, it dawns
on me that the rim of this stinking vat is way beyond my reach—even ten feet
tall. The fact that I can’t see a thing makes it all the scarier.” You see?
It’s even the perfect setting for a horrible accident. Will Sienna escape the
cauldron? Will they get to play another game of tag?
What kinds of quirky settings
inspire you to write?
New adult romance, book 2
(Not necessary to read books in order)
September 29, book release with Inkspell
Blurb:
Sugar’s not so sweet and secrets can be deadly … especially with matters of the heart
Sienna’s bestie, Harper warned her not to intern for famous bad boy artist, Casper Mason. After all, he just fired Harper who helped Sienna get the interview. But the moment Sienna sees Casper—or Caz—sweaty and practically shirtless and swinging from chains while he works on his sculpture, she’s hooked. He’s the richest, hottest artist in New York, and he lives in the fabulous Williamsburg Sugar Factory. But he’s also an incorrigible game-player, who seems to relish challenging Sienna’s loyalty with a string of unsettling tests.
She knows she should get away fast. But by the time Sienna sneaks into his locked storage room and begins to unearth his dark and terrifying secret, she’s fallen way too hard for the handsome, charismatic Caz.
Book reviewers are saying:
"Beautiful. Amazing. A fantastic read that left me wanting more." -XoXo Book Blog
"A juicy read full of passion and magnetic chemistry that will have you hooked from beginning to end." -From the Purple Matter Book Blog
It’s blessedly warmer in here and I realize this warehouse is so enormous he’s only heated the renovated parts. In two of the corners Caz has deposited huge piles of sugar packets—ones tediously counted by spurned interns?
My attention is drawn to the larger of the piles. Its packets are shifting ever so slightly. Ah! The jig’s up; Caz is hiding under it. Sugary mosh pit here I come! I tiptoe forward, ever so slowly and pounce, landing with a shockingly loud crunch. Burrowing down into the packets, my hand hits a leathery cowboy boot. I grip onto the top lip for all its worth. “Tag!” I shriek. “Gotcha.”
Caz explodes upward, like a giant cake surprise, his hair all at wild angles. Grabbing me by the waist he pulls me down. We wrestle like kids, sending packets flying in all directions. He’s stronger than me, so it’s not long before his corded arms circle around me and pin me there, some big kid winning one over on his little brother or sister.
But Caz is not like a big brother, not at all. Not sure what we are now, as he gazes at me with his deep brown eyes, animated, sparkly and questioning. Wide, as if he’s seeing me clearly for the very first time. “You’re fun,” he whispers, his sculptural, perfect mouth so near mine.
Kitsy Clare hails from Philly and lives in New York. A romantic at heart, she loves to write about the sexy intrigue of the city, and particularly of the art world. She knows it well, having shown her paintings here before turning to writing. Her new adult romance series The Art of Love is about artist Sienna and her friends. Living in a Bookworld says: “Beautifully written! We get to learn things about art & painting, which is refreshing. A colorful story from a promising new adult author.” Kitsy also writes YA as Catherine Stine. Her futuristic thriller, Ruby’s Fire was a YA finalist in the Next Generation Indie book awards. Fireseed One, its companion novel, was a finalist in YA and Sci-Fi in the USA News International Book Awards, and an Indie Reader notable. Her YA horror, Dorianna, launches on Oct. 24 with Evernight Teen.
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