If you’ve read my books or followed my journey, you probably know a few things about me—I’m a nurse, a writer, and I once lived on Martha’s Vineyard, where I had the life-changing experience of caring for a reclusive, Pulitzer Prize–winning author. That time on the island—and the man I cared for—inspired me to finally take writing seriously, something I’d always dabbled in but never fully believed I could pursue. Growing up blue-collar, becoming a writer felt like chasing clouds. It wasn’t something “people like me” were encouraged to do.
I also grew up surrounded by addiction. It shaped me in ways I didn’t understand until much later. Years after leaving my hometown, I fell madly in love with someone on that same beautiful island who was battling the same demons I’d seen all my life. That wild, heartbreaking love became the pulse of my debut novel and gave me the courage to write about the things that haunt us, the things we often keep quiet.
Now, I’m stepping into my next chapter. I’m querying my third novel—unsure if I’ll stay with my publisher or see what else is out there—but certain that this story needs to be told.
If my first book was inspired by the author who changed my life, and my second was shaped by a real trial that bled into the edges of my world, then Drive City is the story I never thought I’d have the guts to tell.
It’s about something I’ve only mentioned in passing. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s real: I grew up in Revere, Massachusetts, and in the late ’90s, things were wild. I never thought of myself as a bad kid, but I ended up doing some very bad things. I was part of a car theft ring. I dealt drugs. Life was chaotic, dangerous, and at times, it felt like there was no other way.
But Revere—my hometown—isn’t just grit and trouble. It’s loyalty, it’s friendship, it’s survival. It’s full of people clawing for more, even when the city keeps pulling them back. And that’s what Drive City is about: a raw, unflinching story of growing up hard, trying to break free, and the ties that bind you even when you run.
This book is fiction, but it’s built on truth. My truth. The world I came from.
This is my third baby, my next journey. And as terrifying as it is to share, I’m ready. I hope you’ll come along for the ride.
—Dianne
Chapter 1
The sharp screech of tires tore through the humid summer night. Jane lay in bed, unable to sleep, her eyes following the restless shadows crawling across the cracked plaster walls. The bitter scent of burning rubber drifted in through the open window, mixing with the stale, salty air that had clung to the house for days. Sweat trickled down her chest, soaking the fabric of her nightgown, making the thick, suffocating heat feel unbearable.
In Revere, chaos wasn’t unusual. Not on the boulevard. Beach kids lit up the road all summer—smoke shows, engines screaming, rubber burned to nothing until the cops rolled in. Jane barely flinched anymore. Cars weren’t her thing. Just junk like her dad’s rusted-out Ford that coughed every time it left the driveway. But that would change. Life spins fast. And when you live like we did, you don’t swerve—you crash. That’s just physics.
Can’t wait to read this! You’re an exciting writer and I am so looking forward to this!! ❤️