Rachel Beam's Hear Him Cry

58-year-old Henry, a remorseful man who lives mainly in his head, has just been reunited with Tessa, the daughter of his estranged best friend. Tessa has just been abandoned in a strange city by the last man she was able to trust.

Each essentially alone in the world, they forge an instant and seemingly unbreakable bond. But Henry must come to terms with an unforgivable mistake he made 15 years earlier; a secret shame that tore Tessa’s family apart. As the past begins to unfold, he struggles to confess before she discovers the truth for herself.

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Who is Rachel Beam and where can you find her?

I was raised in a little milk carton town called Jericho on Long Island, NY. Typical happy suburban childhood. Fast forward through the ninth circle of hell known as adolescence and you'll find me at Long Island University's C.W. Post College, where I learned how to bullshit my way through philosophy classes, make fools of my psychology professors, draw with charcoal and address an envelope. (I truly excelled in this last area because I actually learned how to do it in kindergarten. Color me an overachiever.)
It was after my second semester that I decided to drop the idea of earning a psych degree and concentrate on my first love--writing. I enthusiastically told my advisor about this change of heart in our one and only meeting. Like a good advisor, he literally laughed in my face. This was all the motivation I needed to transfer to a real school.
I was accepted into the Dramatic Writing Program at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, where I did not fit in with my peers. I graduated in 2001 with a really expensive, really useless education and all the hope in the world. The hope died somewhere in early 2003.
Fast forward to early 2004, when I entered the Swedish Institute College of Health Sciences in order to pursue a degree in Massage Therapy. (I could spend oodles of time talking about how and why I decided to do this, but it's not that kind of party.) Between January of 2004 and May of 2005 I worked full-time, went to school full-time and spent a lot of time at an Irish pub on W. 23rd St., the name of which escapes me. I wrote one play during that time. Took me six weeks. It sucked. I decided to give up writing entirely.
The (somewhat half-hearted) decision to stop writing was not well received by a friend I had at the time, who was tits deep into her first novel. She hounded me for months to give it just one more try and Hear Him Cry was the result. Four years after completing the first draft and two years after giving up on trying to find an agent or publisher willing to take me on, we're finally getting published. Thank you, Solstice Publishing.

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