What inspired me to write my book?
Unfortunately, each one of us has been touched by suicide one way or another. I personally have a very good friend who knew something was terribly wrong with his troubled uncle and spent the day looking for him. He arrived at the front door when the shot went off. If it wasn’t a family member or friend, you personally know somebody who has had it come that close. Perhaps it’s a favorite artist. The late great actor and comedian Robin Williams comes to mind. I’m a huge music fan. We’ve lost so many. A short list includes Chris Cornell, Naomi Judd, Michael Hutchence, Chester Bennington, Kurt Cobain and Brad Delp.
Why in the world would someone who provided us so much joy wish to end their lives? What if it wasn’t them? What if it was something else? Something else?
Now, as a Bible-believing churchgoer it’s easy for me to believe that it isn’t them, but some dark force aligned against them. It’s with this in mind that I looked to attempt to explain it. The book is written by a Christian, but the work is most definitely not Christian fiction. There are adult situations, harsh language, violence, and bloodshed. It’s R-Rated. Edgy horror.
Enter: 16-year-old Jewel Foster. She doesn’t have many friends. She feels alone in a large world that takes no notice of her. She’s a throw-away. She doesn’t matter. No one will miss her. At least that is what the voice tells her, including many terrible things. It really is a wonder that she’s still alive. She walks around on eggshells all the time, hoping the voice doesn’t notice she’s awake. It rarely works.
For my research, I spent an evening looking up terrible things that people documented as having heard. I probably should have done that during the day instead of late at night. On the other hand, it probably would not have made a difference. I got the chills reading those accounts. Once I felt I had enough – I literally had enough, and never went back.
One night, Jewel abruptly sits up in bed and hits her head on something. From that moment on everything changes. Now she can see the angels and demons that surround her. Neither side is happy about this newfound ability that she has. As I say in promotional materials: Last week, one wanted her dead. This week, they all do.
She also meets her guardian angel. He tries to counsel her, but most of the time simply has to rush to her aid.
Now that Jewel knows the truth, what can she possibly do with such an ability? Soon, she encounters others who are being pestered by “voices” just like she used to be. She cannot stand by and not do anything, but what exactly can she do? She does have some modest success, but her guardian angel warns her about poking the demons. He tells her it’s easy when they’re small, but soon they will get bigger and poke back.
With both my novel and this guest post, I hope I have trod carefully and cautiously. I want to treat this terrible subject matter respectfully and not simply as fodder for my plot. I hope I have done so. You can read this as a standalone; however – spoiler alert – she will be joining my edgy vampire series as a main character. I haven’t overtly advertised because I wanted the folks who have read my vampires to have a surprise. Yet, I anguished about this for a long time because I didn’t want to belittle the importance of this subject matter. I pray I haven’t, and I certainly included helpline information at the back of the book because helping troubled people is far more important. We have all lost too many already.
Thank you, Serena Synn. I appreciate
the opportunity to share a little of what makes me tick.
Excerpt:
Jewel is humming an 80’s hair metal song to herself as she crosses the last street of the day and steps onto the sidewalk on her block. It’s a song that never gets old; however, where she has heard it recently enough to cause it to ear worm into her consciousness, she does not know. It has been a pleasant walk home. She notices no demons on her way, and if present, none challenge her.
She notices her stalker walking toward her and makes no effort to escape.
Whatever, she thinks. He’s not ruining my day.
When he reaches her, he spins and then walks beside her.
“You sound pretty full of yourself right now,” he says evenly. She detects a hint of displeasure in his voice. “I would not have pegged you for a Whitesnake fan.”
She merely shrugs.
“What’s the problem?” she asks. “It’s been a good day. Don’t try to ruin it.”
“Yes, I will be sad to do so. It has been a long time since you have been this giddy.”
“Giddy?” she repeats. “I have never been giddy.”
He makes a sound that she doesn’t immediately discern. It is something between a laugh and a grunt. “I will grant you that it is rare, but it has happened.”
Jewel lets it go.They are halfway down the block now and neither speak for quite a while.
“You must realize that this is not a game,” he says, finally. It isn’t a question.
Jewel sighs. “I should have snuck down the alley,” she says.“You already tried that tactic.”
“So, what do you want from me?”
“You have nothing that I need,” he replies.
“Okay, what am I supposed to do?”
“For one, you can stop poking them.”
“Poking who?”
“You know who, Julie,” he answers. “Leave them be.”
Jewel stops walking. They are near the foot of her driveway now. She turns and faces him. “How can I do that?” she asks. “They’re evil. They put thoughts in your head that aren’t yours. They lie, cheat and steal. Mine told me the vilest things. All this time I thought it was me…”
“I know that.”
She stops. “See! That just pisses me off! They put horrible things into your head, and you know all about it. Who are you?”
“You already know…”
“Don’t tell me that!” she snaps. “Just don’t! I want you to spell it out for me.”
He stands and simply looks at her.
“Sonofabitch!” she shouts. “So, you’re a guardian angel or something?”
He nods.
“Can’t you even say it?” she asks and throws up her hands
“Yes, I can. I am your guardian angel. Does that help?”
“No, it doesn’t help,” she replies, still smoldering. “That only begs further questions.”
“Fine,” he says. “Ask away.”
She glances about the neighborhood as she contemplates what to ask.
“So, no one can see you?” she asks finally. It is the first thought that occurs to her in the heat of the moment. “Anyone looking this way right now sees a crazy girl alone, throwing a fit on the sidewalk?”
“Only when I allow it. When they do, they see only a man.”
“Then do it now,” she says. “I’m tired of feeling crazy. I’ve lived a lifetime of that.”
“As you wish.”
“Do you have a name? Of course you do. What is it?”
“I am afraid I cannot tell you that.”
Jewel appears startled, as if slapped. “Excuse me?”
“I have a name, yes. But it is nothing you could pronounce.”
“Try me,” she says, but he quickly holds up his hands as if to calm her.
“Please do not misunderstand. When we are named… All of us, humans, angelic beings, otherwise, it is by others who are masters or parents. There is ownership implied. Mine has given me a name because he is my master.”
“God, huh?” Jewel says. “So, you’re a religious nut.”
“The very first kind,” he answers evenly.
She shakes her head. “So, what do I call you?”
“I have hope that whenever you call me it will be friend.”
“Isn’t that a song?”
“Yes, Kenny Loggins and Melissa Manchester wrote it.”
“It’s a very old song.”
“I promise you I am far older.”
“How come you know so much about music?”
“I spend quite a lot of time waiting. I amuse myself with music.”
“Who’s your favorite?”
“Would you believe the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?”
She frowns.
“They are quite good, you know.”
“Try again?”
“The Gregorian Monks.”
“Who? Seriously? Chanting? I don’t believe you.”
“I appreciate much, but once you have heard music in heaven there is really nothing else. Perhaps Zeppelin.”
“Get out of here,” she says, exasperated, and heads for her house.
He makes no move to follow.
When she reaches the ninety-degree angle at the walkway that leads to her door, she stops and looks back. “Are you seriously just going to stay out here forever?”
His face grows serious. “That is up to you.”
“How so?”
“You have seen demons with your own eyes, and now you know you have a guardian angel, and have had one since birth.”
“Do I know that?” she asks. “Sure, I have you to vouch for that, but all I have is what you’ve told me. And you really haven’t told me much.”
“In any event,” he continues. “What does that tell you?”
“About what, mysterious stranger?” she asks. “What does it tell me? It doesn’t tell me anything.”
“When you are ready, I will be here.”
“Ready for what?”
“I will be here,” he repeats. “But, please, leave them be.”
“Why should I?” she asks and holds out her hands.
He pauses, as if measuring his words. “Because they will soon poke back.”
Thank you for sharing, and for giving my book a chance to win you over, Serena.
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