Wednesday, June 25, 2014
USP [unequivocal self-promotion]
Here's how being came to be.
I was in France, driving along the Atlantic coast, at night. It was clear and starry and a full moon hung low in the sky. My husband sat in the front seat with one of our friends--Maxime--who drove. I sat in the back.
I was tired after a long day of visiting here, there and everywhere, yet we were on our way to dinner. (The French eat late by my standards. Dinner started at nine.) So I tuned out the front-seat conversation and settled sideways, watching the moon-lit world go by.
Then there it was: Carnac.
At the time, I didn't know about the thousands of megaliths along the coast of northern France. We'd been sailing all day; touring islands. I didn't know that what I was seeing--hundreds of standing stones, drenched in the light of a full moon--was common. All I knew was that it was the most haunting, vivid scene I'd ever laid eyes on, made more-so, I think, by the fact that from a moving car the stones and their moon-made shadows seemed to dance.
Fast forward six years.
My husband was away on a business trip. I woke up in the dead of night, bathed by moonlight pouring in from the window above our bed. But all I saw was that night in northern France--and a boy named Shepherd, standing in the shadows, whispering his name.
It was so bizarre I got out of bed and started writing the boy's story. I wrote it first in third person. Then from his sister's POV. I wrote it from Tienne's perspective. Then Luq's. But it's Shepherd's story and I felt compelled to give it back to him. So I did.
Being is my first novel. My baby. I thought I'd never publish it but, around last October, I realized the story needed to be free. If you choose to read it, I hope you enjoy it. I've read it dozens of times; maybe hundreds. I still love it. Even after all that editing and re-reading, it's still at the core, the magical moment from which it grew.