I’m
always asked, and it doesn’t matter where I am or with whom, if I base my
characters and stories on real people or events.
The
short answer is “no.” Most of the time. And that’s the honest truth.
There’s
no way we can separate what we know from our writing. Everything we do, the people we are, what we
know, trickles into our writing. There’s
no avoiding it, but it’s never a direct path.
I
enjoy the following story, and I think it speaks to what we do as authors. We are great observers. We are good listeners. To break it down to its most simple, we’re
spies. And we’re watching all of you.
My husband and I went on vacation to
Maine a few years ago and I loved everything about the visit. We stayed in the
area known as the midcoast—specifically about an hour north of Portland in a
beautiful place called Boothbay Harbor. With the wonderful location,
perfect weather and friendly people, we couldn't ask for more. The resort we
stayed at was on the waterfront and wonderfully picturesque. With
its gorgeous flowers, rolling lawns and the stately main building, it’s
exactly how I would have written a New England resort.
The purpose for the trip was to
relax and spend some quality time with my husband, which I did. We sampled
the local food, explored new places and did some major decompressing. Of
course, I took pictures.
On Saturday, we were enjoying our
lobster rolls at a wonderful waterfront restaurant when I pulled out my phone
and took a couple of photos.
"What did you take pictures
of?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing," I
responded.
My darling husband grinned. "What
just gave you an idea?" he wondered. "The guys in the
boat?"
That did it. I started laughing.
He knew the two rather rotund, shirtless, middle-aged men in a high-powered
cigarette boat were going to be in a story someday. It was an awesome
scene...the men were flirting shamelessly with two twenty-somethings in bikinis
and displaying as much bad taste as you would expect. I saw all the
potential in the scene and my husband knew it. He caught me mining for
material.
But that brings up the idea that
everything is material when you are a writer. Every experience, every
place, every person you meet can be stored away and drawn upon later. My guys in the boat may not turn up for two
or three or ten stories, but I'll always have the memory. And the pictures.
So, the short answer to the question
everyone asks me about where I get my ideas is that I get my ideas from
everything. My mind is a vessel for
memories and experiences. Writers use our surroundings—the people, the
places, the sights and sounds—to bring our stories to life.
It’s what we do to transport the
reader and when we do that, it’s a win for everyone.
Has something ever happened to you
that made you want to write a book? I’ll be giving away one digital book
from my backlist to one lucky commenter.
The Second Chance Hero
Kim Torres didn't know if she'd ever love or trust anyone
again, but Owen Kent wasn't going to give up on her without a fight.
Navy combat nurse Kim Torres knew it was a
possibility. But she never thought it would happen. She never thought she would
cut through a critically wounded Marine’s fatigues only to find her fiancé, Tom
Albanese. She never thought he would die in her arms. Or that she’d collapse
against his commanding officer when grief overtook her.
Fast forward one year, and Major Owen Kent has
returned from Afghanistan to take his position as the billionaire CIO of
Reliance Software. He’s happy to be home, and everything is business as
usual–until he sees Kim Torres, the nurse he saw unravel in the Afghanistan
hospital, the woman he could never quite get off his mind.
Now Kim is Harper Poole’s nanny, a job she took to get her
mind off of her heartbreak, and although she doesn’t recognize Owen at a
Memorial Day barbecue, she feels an instant attraction. Kim hasn’t felt this
spark in so long, and Owen is the exact opposite of Tom, who wounded Kim’s
heart in more ways than one. But can Kim find it within herself to love–and
trust–again?
Excerpt:
Role 3 Joint Forces Medical Facility
Kandahar, Afghanistan
Late June
Kandahar, Afghanistan
Late June
Sometimes it was the quiet that got to her. Kim knew that if
people were screaming, at least they were still alive. But now, there was
nothing. Nothing except the hum of the equipment, the glare of the harsh
lighting and the beating of her own heart.
Looking down at her gloved hands, her breath caught; her
throat tightened. So much blood.
Tom’s blood.
She snapped the latex off her hands and threw it in with the
other biohazards, then pressed her back against the wall. As she slid down, her
arms folded over her middle. Holding in her heart, maybe? Her bleeding,
breaking heart.
Her emotions started to close in, her eyes started to burn
and she wondered if she would ever get the memories out of her head. If she
would ever be able to see his face as it used to be. The boy next door. Her
handsome Marine. Her love.
Usually, the team knew at least fifteen minutes before the
inbound dustoff landed with wounded—especially when it was coming from that far
out. Today, they didn’t have near that. They had five. Five minutes to prepare
for men who were so gravely injured they shouldn’t have survived the flight.
The gurneys came crashing through the doors and they all had
their jobs in the ER. Kim was ready for her patient—an alpha—the designation
given to the patients with the most life threatening injuries. They knew he had
a massive belly wound and burns on his neck and face. As bombs went, this one
was a widowmaker.
Kim remembered descending on the patient with scissors,
cutting off the bandages applied in the field so they could get to the bleeding
in his abdomen. If they could get that under control he had a chance. A slim
one, but a chance. She hadn’t gotten far when the big man took a gasping breath
and she heard the impossible.
Hoarse. Strained. “Kim.”
No.
“Baby, look at me.” It was barely a whisper, but the
words were screaming in her head. Her eyes traveled away from the blood,
hesitating for a moment over his chest where his name was displayed. Albanese.
God. How had she missed it? Again she took in every inch of him and
when she got to his face, and looked in his dark eyes, she saw the pain, the
fear, he was facing. And Kim knew they would be saying goodbye. Even as the
doctors worked on him, she knew.
He was dying. And there was nothing anyone could do.
It seemed unimaginable. She and Tom were part of each other.
Together since they were just kids, he went into the Marines after high school,
she went into the Navy after nursing school. He gave her a ring.
The wedding was in six months.
His fingers found hers and he gripped them with desperation.
He squeezed hard. Kim reached out and wiped away the tear tracking down his
face. His breathing was more labored, shallower. And he was scared. So scared.
She leaned in and kissed his temple.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“I love you, too. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
But there was no response. The end rushed up. She could see
he was losing his fight, his body convulsed, his eyes rolled back--then he
flatlined.
The tone from the cardiac monitor numbed her brain, told her
a truth she wasn’t ready to hear. Tom was gone.
There were no measures taken. No dramatic chest pounding. No
paddles. The doctor called his time of death.
That’s when Kim turned and walked into the corridor. That’s
where she was now and where she would likely stay, running over the last few
minutes again and again.
Or, feel free to use the excerpt link: http://jeanniemoon.com/books/the-second-chance-hero/#excerpt
Buy Links:
Jeannie Moon has always been a romanic. When she’s not spinning tales of her own, Jeannie works as a school librarian, thankful she has a job that allows her to immerse herself in books and call it work. Married to her high school sweetheart, Jeannie has three kids, three lovable dogs and a mischievous cat and lives in her hometown on Long Island, NY. If she’s more than ten miles away from salt water for any longer than a week, she gets twitchy. Visit Jeannie’s website at www.jeanniemoon.com
*** Jeannie's winner is Anna Gibson! Please email totebag@authorsoundrelations.com with your mailing details!***
*** Jeannie's winner is Anna Gibson! Please email totebag@authorsoundrelations.com with your mailing details!***
4 comments:
To be perfectly honest, I've never been tempted to write a book :) I'm too impatient and not creative enough. I couldn't even keep a diary as a kid! But I love reading and so I appreciate all the "inspirations" it takes for my favorite authors to write a great book! Thanks for sharing!
I have never had an interest in writing a book but probably how I met my hubby would make for a good story. I was set up on a blind date, when I was 17, he was 18. Didn't know I was going on a date until we were pulling into hubby's parent's house! Thank goodness everything turned out great and 34 years later we are still together!
Since I have had kids I've always thought about writing a children's book. They are inspiration themselves. So many stories and funny happenings. Maybe one day :)
In my first marrige, I could have written for a soap opera! luckily it didn't last long. But there was the illigitimate child, thieving, adoption issues with in the extended family, money, divorces...as I look back now, I have to wonder why I even dated him.
Post a Comment