I realize yesterday's post was...startling? Morbid? Depressing? Sad? WTH?
The next day always changes circumstances a little bit. Thankfully. Even my stagnant circumstances shifted every so slightly. So, YAY for that.
Which reminded me of #Overprotected. The first story I ever wrote ( even though the final version was MUCH different than the initial version, which started out as a Women's Romance. Overprotected is ( like most of my books ) much of my life experience as an only child. Overprotected. Minus the New York socialite ( that status I stole from my very rich cousin who also, coincidentally, was an only child - also my age ). Minus the over-the-top mother and father. ( Though my mother definitely qualified ( still does ) as OTT in some parts of our relationship. Minus the hot, nemesis bodyguard. THAT definitely took the story to another, more interesting level.
I read one review ( back in the day when I actually READ reviews ) that said: " Overprotected is SO not what I was expecting - it's so much more! "
I like to think all of my stories are like that, but Overprotected especially - with it's complex love triangle between a father and his daughter and the young man he hires to protect her, are original in their twists.
Overprotected is juicy fun.
How did I come up with those names? The characters? Always, real life figures in.
Ashlyn: the name of a neighbor's child. ( I really like how original the name was, back in the day - now, not so much )
Colin: I had a major screen affair with Colin Farrell during this period. I saw him cast as Colin when he was first on the Hollywood scene.
Fiona: Is my Aunt- ( not her real name )right down to her dramatic enunciation. Love my aunt, had to immortalize her.
Charles: I always loved the name, and the idea of this very wealthy, very influential society man being completely off his rocker when it came to his one and only child -- but not in a way that anyone except his wife, and his child knows about. Like his deep weakness, his undoing. Everything in his life is in his control -- except her heart.
My thoughts on Overprotected. If you've read the book - share your thoughts with me. Better: share the book with someone!
The dark, dismal, hopeless kind. Where your eyes are heavy and you'd rather bury yourself beneath comforters and pillows than move. Your heart is so weighed down with grief, you force breath in and out of lungs too weary to breathe any longer. Yes, it's sunny outside. Yes, you should be grateful for life, health, home, family, love, support, yes, yes, yes. But for a few minutes THAT DOESN'T MATTER. You're falling, sinking, grasping, then recoiling, then grasping and -- nothing is within your grasp. You pray more. Sobs wrench your body. No control. Like everything else in your life -- everything still out of reach. Nothing changes.
Praying. Sobbing. Your prayers -- same ones, same because the anguish is ever present. Like everything in your life that remains the same.
Waiting there for you.
God, will it EVER, EVER get better?
You keep waiting for the day. The hour. The SECOND something improves and STAYS better.
I write YA books. Whatever my heart desires, I write. I don't have someone over my shoulder, in some office somewhere telling me what I can and cannot write. Or should and shouldn't write. I listen to my heart, the center of my muse, and trust my instincts.