So I wrote a book. I am not totally sure how it happened. On a normal day I am a wife, mom and a travel agent. I wrote some stuff about travel but writing about traveling was not nearly as fun as actually doing it. So that got boring fast. And there was another thing. There are voices in my head. Not the kind that tell me to go to the top of a building with a sniper rifle but voices of characters that have stories to tell.
Growing up my home life wasn’t perfect. I certainly didn’t have it as bad as some but it wasn’t exactly happy either. I used stories to escape. When I learned how to read and discovered books I was in heaven. I figured out I could escape to whatever world awaited me on those pages. I walked around my house with a book in front of my face never putting it down, even to eat. I was one of those girls who got in trouble for staying up late reading. I know. I'm a nerd.
I lived in a world of pretend as a child. I would create elaborate worlds in which to live with my friends that were fabulous, scary and exciting. I was always someone else and I would direct the action and characters like the bossy pants little girl I was. I must have been a tyrant but most of my friends went along quietly. They were sweet like that.
In school my head was always in the clouds. I don't know how I got through it when the only subject I did well in was English. Spelling and Reading? Lovely. Math and Science? Are you kidding? What did that have to do with my pretend worlds? Not much and that’s about as much attention as I gave them.
Then I grew up. Sort of. I had to give up playing pretend and stick to the world of books for my escape. I got married to an amazing man who tells me I never matured much past 15. He says it’s why I love teenagers. They are my peer group. I had two fabulous kids that I hovered over and did all I could do to make up for what had been lacking in my own upbringing. My kids tolerated me and loved me anyway. They are sweet like that.
At this point in my life I am not an empty nester. Most days I have a house full of teenage and college kids and that’s how I like it. But they really don’t need me the way they used to. I have a lot more free time so I needed to do something with it.
So while I was contemplating what to do with the rest of my life I realized I had a story to tell and these characters were pretty persistent. They honestly didn’t shut up. So I decided to write their story. I would write it for myself and tell no one. I had never shown anyone any of the fiction I had ever written and I certainly wasn’t going to start now.
Once I got about three quarters of the way through the book I knew I would finish it. I had started many stories throughout the years and never taken them seriously or finished them. When I got close the whispers started. Maybe someone would want to read it? Maybe someone would enjoy it? Not possible. What a ridiculous thought.
I have a standing date every month with some of my closest friends where we go out and do fun stuff that our husbands wouldn’t be caught dead doing like a Go-Go’s concert or ballroom dance class. On one of these nights we were talking about books and writing and I just blurted it out. “I’m writing a book.” Wait. What? Why did I just say that? Oh boy. Heads snapped in my direction and looks of astonishment were thrown my way. They were shocked. We went on to talk a little but one friend in particular had a gleam in her eye. She cornered me later and said “I want to read it.” Ummmm. No. “When you are ready.” She petted my arm and smiled. The whispers got louder.
That one little interaction sent me on the road to finishing and actually showing it to someone. When I brought the first two chapters to her house, a few months later, she had to pry my fingers off the pages to get me to let go. She read it and called me wanting more. I was shocked. Someone liked it? Wow. I was hooked. I finished the first draft, did my revisions and sent it to the editor.
It’s almost ready for publication and you know what? I’ve started the next one. It’s addicting. I’m on the road now and I guess I will see where it takes me. There’s a little blurb below if you’re interested. Sign up for my email list and I’ll send you an excerpt from the first chapter. Got a story in your head? Write it down…
Jasmine’s life wasn’t normal for a 16 year old girl. It hadn’t been normal since the murder of her older sister, Daisy, two years ago. Her life had been changed forever. The monster that murdered Daisy was never caught. It’s why her family decided to move from their hometown in California to a small town in Louisiana to start over. Hopefully to a place where the last name Rourke wouldn’t bring on staring or judgment or morbid curiosity.
In Lafayette, Louisiana things are a bit different but in a good way. Good manners, funny accents and a whole lot of Southern Hospitality makes her think things are going in the right direction. On top of that the most gorgeous boy she has ever seen is interested. Her new friends are better than she could have hoped for even if she is worried about what they might think when they find out who she is. Life would be perfect if odd things didn’t keep happening. Creepy phone calls, texts, and flowers start adding up quickly to something terrifying. Could the Monster have followed them to Lafayette? Was he coming after her family again? Maybe she was just worrying unnecessarily…or not.