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Cross My Heart

Cross My Heart!

That’s the title to my new book and I really like it. It goes along with a bitter piece of poetry I wrote back in college when I’d determined all men were evil minions of Satan. I think the title works great for the story and am excited for the release!

It’s coming out in October, and if you couldn’t tell from the title, it’s a romance novel–romantic comedy to be exact. My previous two books were a wee bit emotionally draining, so I needed a pick-me-up and wrote Cross My Heart. I laughed pretty much the whole time I wrote it and loved every minute of that story. I was able to go back to Boston a couple of years ago on a research trip which helped me write both Cross My Heart, and the novel I just turned into my agent, Spell Check. It was a whirlwind trip of filming locations, taking pictures, figuring out plots, and romancing Mr. Wright  in the city that lies at the space between my childhood and growing up.

I lived in Boston for a short while when I was eighteen. I loved going back. I loved going back with him. And I’m excited to share the fruits of that trip with my readers. Seriously guys. You are going to love this one.

And how weird is this, I was doing genealogy and came across some things that belonged to my great grandma. Turns out she was a writer. Turns out she was published in several little magazines and such. What I came across were several suspense/mystery short stories. The stories were fun to find and read, but what was really fun?

She had a rejection letter from Ladies Home Journal attached to one of those stories, and along with that, she had the actual magazine where the story finally found publication. It was an odd sort of kinship I felt, reading this letter sent to my great grandmother in 1952. I love that she saved the letter, the original story and the magazine. All those things together paint a vivid picture about my great grandmother. She believed in herself, and she didn’t give up.

It must run in our blood. I have rejection letters to books I’ve later held in my hands as published works.  Giving up is never an option. As I sit here with my fifth book about to be published and several more completed and awaiting their turn in print, I wonder what would have happened if I’d quit with that first letter? What would I have lost? What friendships and associations would I have never known?

It makes me physically ill to think of all I would have missed.

Thanks Grandma. May whatever’s flowing in our DNA never die.