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A Place to Relax
OFF THE GRID follows a World War I veteran, journalist, skilled sailor, and boat builder who leaves New York in search of a quieter life aboard his cutter but finds himself working as an off-the-record agent. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
I found when I started writing novels that after you are inspired with this wonderful fantasy you created, what really makes it work becomes autobiographic. I found that with my first two novels, “Forgery by Deception,” and Everything We Try to Hold.” So, for “OFF THE GRID,” I am a WWII history buff. I read accounts of German submarines operating in the Florida Keys during WWII, as well as WWI. I have been sailing alone since the early 80’s, enjoying that quieter life. Started scuba diving in 1970, and became a diver master in 1984. I live 20minutes from the Florida Keys, and have been sailing, diving, and kayaking there for many years. I am also a veteran, who during my service was a radio telegraph, telephone, with a secret clearance.
What makes Frank different from the traditional fictional spy?
By making Frank an ordinary WWI vet, and not a trained intelligence operative, he is tasked with solving finding and exposing a Nazi spy ring, without specialized training. Every situation he encounters has to be delt with his own intelligence, and more importantly, his own emotions.
What challenges did you face in balancing historical accuracy with the demands of fiction?
A great deal. There was a tremendous amount of research involved. First, you had the war history, from WWI, and WWII. Then I had to merge that with the history of the keys in 1935 to 1941. When I was writing the introductory part of the book, about one quarter, and realized, how I wanted the story to finish, was not going to work the way I had envisioned because of the actual dates. So, I went back to beginning, and revised what I had written. It took time to sort all that out.
If you could spend one day aboard the Frieda-Ann with Frank, where would you want him to take you—and why?
The place is the Dry Tortugas, where the book finally ends. Fort Jefferson, a Civil War Fort that is 70 miles west, from Key West. Isolated from humanity, the only way to visit now is by seaplane, or boat. A perfect place to relax, dive, write, and drink rum.
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OFF THE GRID
Gene Piotrowsky’s Off the Grid is a historical espionage novel set primarily in the Florida Keys during the tense period before the United States entered World War II. Its central character, Frank Smith, is a World War I veteran, journalist, skilled sailor, and boat builder who leaves New York hoping to begin a quiet life aboard his cutter, the Frieda-Ann. That plan takes a sharp turn when his former commanding officer recruits him as an unofficial intelligence agent, telling him, “I would like you to be my off-the-record agent.” From there, Frank’s journey becomes a mixture of maritime adventure, undercover investigation, and wartime suspense.
Much of the book’s appeal comes from its unusual setting. Piotrowsky spends considerable time describing sailing routes, reefs, mangrove passages, isolated anchorages, local businesses, and communities still recovering from the devastating 1935 Labor Day hurricane. These details give the novel the feeling of a personal logbook and place the reader directly aboard the Frieda-Ann. Frank’s routines, from checking his rigging to preparing meals and communicating through Morse code, make his secret life feel practical and lived-in. The Florida Keys aren’t simply scenery here. Their remoteness and scattered population make them a believable hiding place for spies, submarines, and people trying to disappear.
Frank is an engaging lead because he approaches espionage as a problem solver rather than as a glamorous action hero. He gathers gossip, studies accents, builds relationships with veterans, and carefully develops explanations for his movements. His background as a writer helps him ask questions without immediately attracting suspicion, while his knowledge of German gives him access to conversations others can’t understand. The story also gives him a dry, occasionally self-aware sense of humor. After accepting the assignment and considering its danger, he concludes, “This was not going to be an easy task. Time for another large rum.” That line captures Frank nicely. He’s thoughtful and capable, but he’s also a man who regularly processes danger over coffee, dinner, or a strong drink.
The novel unfolds patiently, following Frank as small observations grow into evidence of a larger Nazi network. Conversations at marinas, churches, taverns, and beach gatherings gradually connect suspicious veterans, German-speaking laborers, hidden operatives, and submarine landings. As the plot intensifies, Frank moves from gathering intelligence to conducting dangerous underwater surveillance and staging elaborate operations against enemy agents. The procedural detail gives these missions a distinctive texture. Readers see Frank plan routes, test equipment, create alibis, consider possible failures, and think through the consequences. His friendships with Stu, Selma, Carl, and the struggling veterans also give the story a community at its center, so the threat feels personal rather than abstract.
Off the Grid is a broad, detail-rich adventure about an ordinary-looking man quietly fighting a hidden war. It combines regional history, sailing knowledge, military intrigue, and the story of the Florida Keys’ transformation during World War II. By the epilogue, Frank’s active mission has evolved into journalism and informal intelligence work, allowing him to remain useful while building a life within the community he helped protect. The book’s strongest identity comes from that combination of secrecy and daily life. Frank may be hunting enemy agents, but he’s also repairing his boat, sharing rum with veterans, listening to local gossip, and learning to call the Keys home.
Pages: 170
Complicated Relationship
Everything We Try to Hold follows a successful woman looking back across decades of family history, friendship, and loss, as buried secrets resurface, revealing how love, grief, and memory shape the lives we try to hold together. What was the inspiration for your story?
The inspiration for our story is taken from an actual event that Mikey discovered many years later. A complicated relationship! Using this as our basis, we layered it with some fictional characters and family situations.
The narration often feels conversational, almost confessional. How did you develop Caroline’s voice?
We wanted Caroline to speak openly to the reader, as a woman relating her personal trials and tribulations to a friend.
Caroline evolves professionally and personally over time. How does her creative work connect to her emotional journey?
As we developed Caroline’s journey, we compiled a comprehensive list of events drawn from our own and those we observed in our travels. Part of Caroline’s creative journey was taken from a nonfiction book I authored, and Mikey edited, detailing my several creative careers that produced my body of work. It detailed years of hard work with struggle and disappointment.
What do you hope readers feel after finishing the novel?
In the most difficult and demanding life stories, one can find happiness if you stay true to yourself.
“Collaboration is like carbonation for fresh ideas.” — Unknown
The creation of Everything We Try to Hold was borne out of a creative collaboration between two friends. My long relationship with Mikey (Michael) is based on an honest exchange of ideas without egos.
Everything We Try to Hold
Everything We Try to Hold is a work of domestic literary fiction, or family saga, told through Caroline Graham’s long memory as she looks back on the lives braided around her own: her fierce friendship with Cathy, her mother June’s unhappy marriage, the damage caused by pride and infidelity, the loss of her brother Stephen, and the way grief and love keep resurfacing across decades. The book opens with Caroline in late middle age, successful on the surface, then pulls us backward through childhood, marriage, motherhood, ambition, and old family secrets, using one discovery tied to Uncle Frank as the thread that brings the past rushing forward again.
What stayed with me most was how openly the book wants to sit with emotional history. Sometimes it feels almost as if Caroline is talking to readers directly, sorting through memory piece by piece, and that intimacy gives the novel much of its strength. I liked the way the manuscript returns to certain pressures over and over: the father’s cruelty, the mother’s quiet suffering, the steadiness of Cathy, the comfort of Uncle Frank. That repetition mirrors how family wounds actually work. They do not pass cleanly. They echo. I found myself wishing the prose were tightened in places, because the strongest scenes already have real weight and don’t need quite so much explanation. When the writing trusts the moment, especially in scenes of childhood wonder or private grief, it really works.
I also found the author’s choices interesting in how firmly the book centers women’s interior lives inside what could have been a more conventional generational drama. June’s pain, Caroline’s watchfulness, Cathy’s lifelong presence, and even Caroline’s later professional growth as a designer give the story a pulse that feels more intimate than plot-driven. There is loss here, but also endurance, self-making, and the strange way tenderness can grow in damaged ground. The late reveal involving the hidden safety deposit box and the photograph of June doesn’t explode the book so much as deepen its sadness. It asks whether the private things people hold onto are shameful, necessary, or simply human. I appreciated that the novel seems more interested in emotional residue than in neat judgment. That felt honest to me.
I would recommend Everything We Try to Hold to readers who enjoy character-centered family dramas, reflective women’s fiction, and multigenerational stories that care more about relationships than speed. This is a book for someone willing to settle in and listen. Someone who doesn’t mind a novel lingering over memory, pain, and the slow shaping of a life. Readers who value sincerity, emotional accessibility, and the sweep of a family saga will likely find a lot to connect with here.
Pages: 110
