Pictures tell stories. Do you tell stories with them? While I speak most of my tales via words, I love taking photos. Figured what's a blog for. Right?
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Twelve Years Ago...
My first solo signing for Body Parts, my debut novel. My hand clenches the curtain.
“I can’t do this,” I say to Bill.
He smiles that slow, easy smile of his. His eyes are warm, assured. “Sure you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“How come?” he says.
Q: So, Vicki, why did you write what you call an Urban Fantasy Romance?
Me: I already blogged about that.
Q: You’re a little snarky today.
Me: Maybe. Okay, yeah, I am. My forehead’s bloody—the wall I slammed into working on Chest of Air hurt.
Q: Poor thing. So let’s talk about your childhood.
Me: That should put everyone to sleep.
Q: What books did you love as a kid? You know, ones that influenced your writing.
Me: Ah, now there’s something I can dig my fangs into.
Q: Clears throat. Back away. Runs.
Me: Silly girl. They’re only virtual… mostly.
Books. (I sigh.) They take you anywhere and anywhen. Reveal anything you wish. Feel anything you want. Come ride the dragon into the past with me.
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I learned a lot about my craft and about myself writing Chest of Bone.
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“Mom, c’mon!” Blake says.
“But do you see?” I say. “I just have to go meet him!”
“Mom.” Ben sighs, looks at his brother, rolls his eyes.
Blake grins.
