Behind the Ghosts of the Storm
First I'd like to thank Denyse' for having me on her blog today. One of the greatest strengths I've noticed about working in the e-publishing industry is how much the authors support and cheer for each other. In a world of rejections edits and self-conciousness always floating around, having the support of so many wonderful people helps when trying to write and continue to be published.
I came here today to talk a little about my latest release, Ghosts of the Storm from Moongypsy Press. To give a little background, Ghosts of the Storm is a short story I wrote based on parts of my life. When the characters and setting and plot began to develop itself, I had no idea what genre to tell people it was. The only thing I could think was that it's a love story or it's a tragedy. Thank God Foery allowed me to submit it without a genre because otherwise it would have sat on my computer until I could think of one. But once she finished it, she came back with the idea of classifying it as a paranormal romantic tragedy. And that made a great deal of sense to me.
Before I get too much into some of the background of Ghosts of the Storm...here is what the story is about:
Have you ever felt the sense that there's a happily ever after?When Bobby finds his neighbor, Joe, sitting out by the highway during the night a hurricane is making landfall, he is compelled to find out what is going on, because Joe always appears happy. Except tonight. Bobby finds that Joe's wife isn't the love of his life, that the girl every man in McDavid, Florida, has wanted once was his lover. And that Joe blames himself for her death. Even more concerning to Bobby is that Joe admits seeing the ghost of his lost love dancing in the median of Highway 49. And she wants him to join her.
Now I'm not going to speak for every author, but it always seems that we put ourselves into our books. Locations, emotions, memories, heartache all seems to come up when we write. That goes the same for Ghosts of the Storm.
I first thought of the idea after a particular night in my life that carries with it a good deal of heartache, but I will not get into that today. What I will say is that when the night ended, the story began. I opened a new text document on my computer and wrote a note to myself to not forget the night of the storm and then berated myself just to make sure I wrote it. But I didn't know how, or what to say. Thanks to my muse, that came not too long after when she introduced me to the character, Bobby, who gives us his narration of the story. I might add he does a great job of telling a story and I was ever so happy he shared his with me.
I wrote Bobby's story and wanted to do more with it, perhaps a novel, but it would have required taking Bobby's part out of it almost completely. And if you've already read Ghosts of the Storm, you'd know, it really isn't as great of a story without Bobby telling it. So after some soul searching, I let the story go as is and never felt such a rush of "being accepted" as I did when Foery came back, asking me if she could edit it because she just couldn't put it down. Not only that, but then Foery sent it to Diana to assign a copy editor, but Diana asked if she could take on the role because she too couldn't put the story down. I love my works, but even I will be first to admit, I have never had such a strong response from someone reading my work as I did when Ghosts of the Storm began going through staffing channels, everyone seeming to absolutely enjoy it.
Next thing I know, I'm being asked if it would be ok to release it early. How can I say "no" to that? So now it's on the shelf and out for multiple reviews. And before I go, I'd like to share a small part of that story with you.
Excerpt from Ghosts of the Storm:
Available now from Moongypsy Press "I've heard the rumors." "Like hell! I'm amazed she hasn't tried to get you in the sack with her." I felt a pang of guilt seize my chest but I fought it back. It's not like I screwed the woman, regardless of what fleshy parts she tried rubbing against me at the Pig.
"Joe, you're starting to confuse me. What's this gotta--" Joe waved his hand at me in a shooing nature and I knew I was out in left field so I shut my mouth to see what he had to say.
"I know she's been sleeping 'round on me. It's part of the deal we made a while back." Joe stopped and looked at the spot in the road again. I couldn't help but look with him. What did he see that the rest of us kept taking for granite?
"I have to tell you, Bobby. Not because she'll be blabbing to everyone in town--"
"You know no one will believe her Joe." He gave me the wave again.
"I have to tell you because if I don't, the rest will seem even more crazy than it already does."
I could see the street lights refracting through the tears in his eyes. Seeing a man of thirty-five crying in the dead of night just ain't something anyone should see. A man of Joe's age is supposed to be vibrant, robust; past the age of trying to stick his dick into everything, yet still young enough to feel life flowing throughout his body. Joe looked like a man who made his peace with death.
"Oh did I love that girl. And what many didn't know is that she loved me too. That boy Michael was just window decorations for her. As long as everyone thought the two of them were a couple and he kept being an asshole, they'd never dare think the two of us were a thing.
"Fact is, we would’ve been married had I not been stupid. We'd known each other for years but my being five years older never set right until after she turned twenty-four. A twenty-five-year-old seeing a twenty-year-old doesn't sound nearly as bad as a twenty-year-old seeing a fifteen-year-old. By the time she turned eighteen, I was graduating college and she was heading to it. Then there came Becky.
"I tried to catch a falling star when I started seeing Becky. Oh you could get close enough to make a wish but trying to hold on for the ride? Never possible with her 'cause she'd burn you right up. The first month with Becky I could never described but by month two, everything started to crumble. Then came the scare of pregnancy and of course what did I do? I went off and hitched myself to a falling star, burning up in the atmosphere each second after we both said 'I do.'
"A miscarriage and two years later, Amanda comes home from college and I'm stuck married to a woman that can't keep her drawers in the up position and I can't seem to catch her in the act." Joe stuck his hand in the air, seeming to know what I was going to ask.
"I know the stories, Bobby. That didn't happen until after Amanda's death."
"So Amanda finds me after so many years and we feel it. That sense that there's a happily ever after. You ever feel that, Bobby?"
Trent
