Christmas in May?

Last summer, I wrote a book. My first full length novel since before my daughter got sick. She’s been in remission for two years, but it took me forever to get the writing mojo back. This particular story, SON OF A PREACHER MAN, was one that was in my head FOREVER. 

Or so I thought.

I started the story with a basic idea that sprung from listening to the Dusty Springfield version of the song. As I started picturing the story in my head (I see my stories like movies and then I madly scramble to write down what I “see”) it morphed and changed. Suddenly, my heroine was a gypsy. 

What? What did I know about gypsies?

Not much, so I researched and researched and researched until I felt like I could at least try to write a believable character without insulting anyone. (And I really did try, so if I screwed up, I apologize.) As the story moved along, characters who were going to be villains turned out to be nice, new characters sprang up, and people I was going to just mention briefly demanded bigger roles in the book. 

Who’s writing this thing anyway? I mean seriously, there were times I felt downright possessed. I wrote and wrote and wrote and when I wasn’t writing, I was thinking about it. The story consumed my life for all of last summer. 

Next week, it’s coming out from Samhain Publishing. I feel like a kid before Christmas. I’m counting down the days waiting for it to go live. I stalk review sites in a vain hope someone has an advance review for the book (no one has so far) and I stare at the cover art every day. 

Seriously, I feel like a girl with her first crush, wondering if the popular boy will like me as much as I like him. I loved writing the book, I loved the characters, even if they were a bit strong willed, and I LOVE my cover. I so hope people will read it and will love it too.

In the meantime, the countdown continues.