Or the
long, painful, labor of love
By the time you read this, I will
have published the Bailey Devlin Series. These three books were written over
the course of six grueling months. It is a miracle that I am still married and
that my children still speak to me. Pretty much, about three months into the
process, I morphed into a walking nerve and stayed that way until I typed 'the
end'. Conversations around our house kind of went like this:
Husband: "What do you want for dinner?"
Me: "I
don't think these books are funny. They're supposed to be funny. I'm not sure
they are funny. People have to laugh. Or at least smile when they
read them."
Husband: I'm
sure they're fine."
Me: "I
want a taco."
Husband: "Sounds
good. I'll go to. . ."
Me: "You
don't think it will be fine, do you? I can hear it in your voice. You're just being nice. You don't
think they're funny, I can tell. I don't think I can eat."
Husband: "I'm
sure they're funny. You're funny. . . (pause). . . you were funny. Before. . ."
Then he would mumble something as he
went upstairs and closed the bedroom door. No dinner.
I yell up the stairs: "What do
you think? About the books, I mean? Being funny?"
I recall having conversations like
this when I was pregnant - just substitute fat for funny. The only difference is
that I got tacos when I was pregnant. To be exact, I got giant burritos. I ate
a giant burrito and a waddled around the block the day I went into labor. At
three in the morning I thought my labor pains were indigestion. Neither was
pleasant.
I swore off burritos.
I had one more baby then I swore off babies.
Now that the Bailey Devlin series is
launched, my literary hormones have settled, I am ready to tell you the truth.
The truth is that being an indie author - one who has gone rogue and written outside
her normal thriller genre - is just like childbirth and here's why.
1) Conception: Fun, exciting, and takes place in a burst of
extraordinary passion. That's what it was like conceiving Bailey Devlin. My
mother asked for some books-with-out-bodies. Not that she didn't like my
thrillers, it's just that she wanted to see if I could actually put more than
three sentences together without killing a character. I heard that wistful tone
in her voice. It sounded like 'will I ever be the grandmother to a book-baby
that makes me smile?" Her 91st birthday was in September and Bailey Devlin
was her present. It took a few tries, it took some restraint not to kill Bailey
off, but eventually the seed was planted; Bailey Devlin was more than a twinkle
in my eye.
2) Gestation: No morning sickness, no sleepless nights, no discomfort.
The Day Bailey Devlin's Horoscope Came
True came trippingly off the keyboard. Piece of cake. The Day Bailey Devlin Picked Up a Penny took a little longer and by
the time The Day Bailey Devlin's Ship
Came In, mine had sailed, leaving me adrift in a sea of doubt. Were these
books as funny as I thought? Would anyone really care about Bailey? Was she
ever going to pass the bar and find happiness? Who did she really love? Would
she have my eyes but her father's feet? Can't they give me something for the
pain? Oh, sorry, keep getting these two events confused. We're talking books
not childbirth.
3) Labor: It never goes as smoothly as you
think it will. No matter how often you're coached, you forget to breathe. I
knew there would be the mind numbing pain but I didn't realize I would be the
one inflicting it. My very patient editor*
was not fooled by the fake smiley faces at the end of each email asking, WELL?
HAVE YOU READ IT? The poor cover designer* has probably decided that selling
insurance would be more fulfilling than ever working with the nit-picking me
again. And then there were the frantic emails in the middle of the night
begging the formatter* to revise the files because I'd found yet another typo. Think
breach birth on that one. I kept wondering if these files would ever turn around
and come out the right way.
4) Delivery: I delivered triplets; three books published on the same
day. By this point, I was goofy with getting them written, formatted, covered
and published, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I went on vacation
and left them with grandma.
Now readers are visiting my
offspring. I hope they love the covers and adore Bailey Devlin and her crew. I
hope they laugh and cry because the stories are sweet in a sexy world. They are
inspired by people I know and love. Bailey Devlin is me and I think she is
every woman. Like an anxious mom, I'm waiting for someone to chuck me under the
chin, and tell me I did good, and that they really like my babies.
Happy Birthday Bailey Devlin. It was
worth every minute.
Thanks to my birthing team:
Amazon buy link:
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