Writer's Inspiration
One question writers get asked, "Where do you get your
inspiration from?"
Most of the time I'm stuck for an answer. Stories just come
to me.
Another question is, "What was your playlist for this
book?"
I don't have playlists. I write in silence. Distractions
distract me. I'm a bit ADD. Oh, look a chicken. Is there chocolate?
A call was put out for Christmas shorts. Short novellas that
focus on the holiday season. I thought it sounded like a fun idea.
But it was mid-Oct and I couldn't get into the Christmas spirit
– heck it wasn't even Canadian Thanksgiving yet. The grass was green. The
flowers were still in bloom.
So I popped on my head phones and listened to Christmas
music – not just any Christmas music – Trans Siberian Orchestra. If you've
never listened to them – give it a go. Wow – their take on Christmas music is
phenomenal. One song in particular – Carol of the Bells. (Technically, its name
on the album cover is Christmas
Eve/Sarajevo 12/24.) To catch a listen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6FhOb7-1dg
The story behind their version of the song – On Christmas
Eve, a lone man challenges the war playing music on the rubble of the
destruction of his city – Sarajevo. When you listen to this song, you can hear
the beauty and then the destruction – the jarring rock music wonderfully
portraying the bombs and chaos.
In my story, Christmas
Notes, the rock music is Giselle's life. It's a mess. Not the life she'd
planned and something she was truly embarrassed about.
Giselle, is you or I. No one special, but life kicked her
down once too often. There by the grace
of God go I – that line wasn't the basis for the story – the music was –
but it does help understanding.
The story follows the same structure of the song – calm –
chaos – calm – chaos then resolution. All in under 10,000 words.
So for once, I can answer two interview questions –
"Where do you get your inspiration from?"
Trans Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24
"What was your playlist for this book?"
Trans Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24
Excerpt
Rock bottom is
hard. And I'd smashed up against it. Bruised not only my pride, but also my
body. Guess that's what happens when you haven't eaten in a few days and pass
out on the sidewalk in front of the largest department store witnessed by
hundreds of Christmas shoppers. And all of them with cell phones recording
another titillating moment in the biggest city in the country. Yeah, it just
wasn't my day.
Tears stung my eyes as I shifted to my hands and knees
while watching feet scurry past. I didn't look up. Didn't want to see their
faces. The judgmental disdain and embarrassment etched into their frosty red
cheeks. Their sanctimonious scorn of myself and the condition to which I'd
sunk. Their chagrin of not being willing to help and of desperately trying to
pretend I was invisible.
Icy droplets fell from the sky, settling on my neck.
It wasn't quite snow, but was no longer rain. And it was raw cold. To my core.
I pushed up to standing, brushing away the frigid sleet from my arms and legs.
I pressed my scraped palm against my hip to stop the bleeding then checked my
bag. It and its contents seemed all right. Yes, my existence has been reduced
to having pretty much everything I own in a bag or two.
My life wasn't always like this. How I got here
doesn't matter. Another sad sob story. A cruel twist of fate. A dream
shattered. I could go on using a dozen more clichés, but I'm pretty sure you
get the idea.
So again, I say, hitting rock bottom is hard. And, I
might add, it sucks.
Three well-dressed ladies scooted past me, bundled in
warm coats, scarves and high-heeled boots. Each holding a large takeout cup
from the high-end coffee shop just up the block. Hazelnut. The smell tickled my
nose. Probably a cappuccino. My stomach rumbled. My head swayed. I inhaled a
deep breath and steadied myself.
A police officer strode toward me. His brow creased.
Was he worried about my collapsing on the sidewalk? Or was he concerned for the
Christmas shoppers, having their joyous holiday spending frenzy interrupted by
the pitiful sight of me?
Turns out it was my second guess. He held my elbow and
directed me to move along as he steered me toward a side street. I protested
saying…or rather…lying that I'd slipped and fallen. But after a quick scan of
my unkempt appearance, I knew that he knew I wasn't being totally honest.
He pointed down the side street, Prospect Avenue, and
told me about a soup kitchen that was a couple of blocks up behind a large
stone church. He smiled, rubbed his stomach then told me the aroma had been
very tempting when he passed by earlier in his shift.
I offered up a grateful smile and hobbled on partially
frozen feet in the direction of my first meal in two days. I walked along
dreaming about hot chicken noodle soup. Warm broth slipping over my tongue and
down into the cavern that is my stomach. Floppy noodles trying to slip off my
spoon, but with a quick slurp I'd catch them all.
Little round green peas nestled in a spoon next to a
piece of actual, honest to goodness chicken. The thought of the aroma made me
lick my dry, chapped lips in anticipation. Or maybe it would be beef vegetable.
A dark, rich broth filled with colorful vegetables. My stomach was torn between
protesting its emptiness or celebrating the future meal.
Have I mentioned that fate's a bitch?
Blurb and Buy Links
Can a slice of pizza and a flute erase the ravages of
life and allow Giselle and Ethan to fall in love by Christmas?
Collapsing in
front the biggest department store in the city on one of the busiest days of
the holiday season was not how Giselle imagined her day. Cold and hungry, she
trudged through her daily existence wondering if she'd ever find happiness
again.
Teenagers. Ethan loved working with them and turning
their raw musical talent into something beautiful and rewarding, but that
didn't fill the black void in his soul.
Like fate, the songwriters' muse nudged Giselle and
Ethan together. But can Giselle overcome her fears and can Ethan get past the
darkness that surrounds him, so they can find love?
Amazon
- https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09L7954ST
Books2Read
- https://books2read.com/u/3keqvO
NOTE – This book will only be available in
ebook as it is too short to be put into print.
Bio
Two writers in one. Daryl
Devoré writes hot romances with sexy heroes and strong heroines and sweet
romances with little to no heat. She has several published books available on
Amazon in ebook, print and audio. Also, available at other book retailers via Books2Read.
Daryl (@daryldevore) lives in an old farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with
her husband and 2 cats. Daryl loves to take long walks on her quiet country
road or snowshoe across the back acres, and in the summer, kayak along the St.
Lawrence River. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth, and a meteorite. She’s
been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a
helicopter, and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life’s an adventure and
Daryl’s having fun living it.
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