“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”
This quote is probably the reason I’ve written three romantic suspense novels set in the Caribbean. I loved the humid air that enfolded me when I stepped off the plane, the hummingbirds that visited bouquets of flowers through the open windows of our rental house, the sunrises and sunsets. And the glorious flowers… who couldn’t look at this flower and imagine a story that needed to be told.
This Angel’s Trumpet invites one to lift it and explore the pendulous bloom. But beware. All parts of it are poisonous. Hmmm. The dark underbelly of the tropics. A sub-plot is emerging.
I remember being on a plane (back in the days before Kindles…when you brought a hard cover or paperback book along) and thinking that although the author was someone who sold a ton of books, there was more I wanted. More description, a more intricate plot, more family drama. I wanted more than boy meets girl, the conflict that keeps them apart, and a happy ending where they are united. So my first novel was a book I wanted to read.
And then I wrote the second in which the same characters continued, needing to know what happened to those people who inhabited my brain. I was writing a series before it was the thing to do.
On my desk is the second edit of the third in my Caribbean series and I am desperately trying to clear the decks so I can give it my undivided attention. And wouldn’t you know, spring is finally here, the yard is finally drying out and all that clean-up that I couldn’t do in the fall (because it was too wet) is shouting at me.
My story is calling me, too. I need to get to work.