Monday Bloggery

I thought about posting an exerpt from book two but i’m not ready yet for many reasons but for right now I’m not ready to share it.  It’s unpolished and sloppy and holds to many memories for it to be shared just yet.  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I put out book one and we’ve hit the circuit with it and I’ve started doing blog tours.  I’ve had to evaluate what I’ve done so far with book One and why I wrote it.  Book one is the most autobiographical I’ve gotten about my recovery than I’d like to admit.  Someone once told me that I wrote a junkie’s struggle so well that as a recovering addict she could deal with me.  You want to stay away from people who are trying to get clean.  In many ways I am an addict.  Its taken me a long time to realize that and to get myself clean but I am working on it.  I’ve started doing things that make me a better person.  I know that I can’t drink like I used to because I was drinking too much and I know I was starting to self medicate but I don’t do that anymore.  Asher finding something good about himself is a junkie’s struggle to find something good about yourself and to understand you are a positive force in the world.  But that leaves me with book two.

Book two is still about me which sounds pretty self centered but I’ve come to learn that authors are pretty self centered people.  Its about what you are doing and getting people to like you.  I originally wanted to set out to tell a story about finding love when you are damaged.  Love isn’t finding someone who has baggage to match yours.  Love is finding someone who accepts your baggage, can still be irritated by it but steps over the mess and accepts it.  Its a theme I don’t think that people who do vampire books ever explore and that’s sort of my goal in life.   I don’t want to use these themes in the same way they’ve been used but there’s another story there.  One I didn’t intend to write.  I had put some elements of my childhood into book two.  For example, there is a medicine woman who talks to Karl named Tilly the Witch which was the name of a horrible doll my grandmother made when I was a child.  I remember it because in an act of vengeance, my cousin Emily threw Tilly’s head (before it had been attached to her body) into my lap.  I was afraid of the basement ever sense that day.  Some parts of the novel take place in East Tennessee because in the middle of writing the novel my mother died.  She loved East Tennessee and part of me misses that place.  Its a couple hours away and I can visit but it doesn’t feel the same.  I would just want to go back to my mother’s hometown and tell no one I was there but that seems rude.  I can’t walk in and not tell my uncles and aunts I was there nor can I dissappear for an afternoon to do.  I miss East Tennessee badly.  

The other story that is told is a more heartbreaking one to me.  It’s the story of Carter and Margret which the more I write the harder it becomes for me.  Its not about me.  It will never be about me but its about a man who has lost the love of his life and attempting to deal that way.  I almost posted one of those chapters but I can’t not yet.  Isn’t it funny how stories become apart of us?  I am more effected by people who aren’t real than the people who are real and suffering. Huh.  Book two is almost down in the first draft so I’m pretty excited and we’re still on book tour.

ALSO! we’ll be doing a Facebook release party with our new friend Kim Thompson!  How cool is that.  Totally check us out.

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