I dream my books. That is to say, I dream. And my dreams frequently end up being a weeks worth of the same story, being fleshed out more each night. I hate it when I wake up and I haven't found the ending yet, since that means I'm going to be dreaming about the same thing for at least another night.
Some of my stories are based on things that happened in real life - RAPTURE OF THE DEEP is based on something that happened in the Puget Sound area back in the late 1980's. I'd never heard of a geoduck (pronounced gooey-duck) until I read about the rather complicated poaching scenario in Washington State. On the basis of that little snippet of news came one of my favorite book on my list. This book has since been deep-sixed as it came to light, as part of a conversation with several other writers, that I was assimilating a life that wasn't my own in my heroine. Not only did I assimilate her life, I ran roughshod over artwork of a culture that wasn't my own. The book, perhaps the best thing I have written, is in a dead file on my computer where I will occasionally read it for my own entertainment, but you, dear reader, won't ever get to see it. When will the politicization of the world around us end?
Another of my books was based on a legal case in Canada. In 2000, in my then home city of Edmonton, Alberta, a ponzi scheme was uncovered by the Edmonton Police Service. It involved the illegal action by groups calling themselves the Muffin Club, Women Helping Women, and many others. It was a pyramid scheme involving 8 women called Appetizers buying into the Club for $5000 (some were less) which was paid to the top of the pyramid, or the Dessert. In between were two layers, the Salads (4 women) and the Entrees (2). Once paid, the Dessert was dropped from the group, although if greedy and rich enough she could buy back in to the next Club, then the remaining layers moved up one and the group split into two groups. I think you can see where this is going. The upshot was that complaints began to surface when some women never got their money back because others were leaving before it was time to split. I knew one of the women who bought into one of these schemes and when she asked me to join, I wisely said no thanks. (To my knowledge, she never recouped her investment.) It was only a few weeks later that the police cracked the ring and the clubs met their demise. I benefited - I got a story line out of it. The book I wrote, but never published, was THE DESSERT CLUB. It was never published because my publisher changed their ways and I asked for my rights back to all of the books I had published with them.
Then, life got in the way, and I sat on those books. Did nothing more with the ones that were partly written, did nothing with the ones that could have been updated and published again with a different publisher. So for nearly 12 years, nothing happened with my stories.
Then came COVID-19. Being housebound is no fun, especially if you have nothing better to do than sit and watch TV. I have never been a fan of daytime TV and the only programs that really interested me were the political Cable News broadcasts. That was fine for a while, but boredom set in again and then I remembered what my husband said to me several times in the years before his death. Revise. Rewrite. Republish. Better yet, self-Publish.
So here I sit in my new home in Alberta, missing my Island hideaway and working on republishing my entire backlist. My dog, Dillon, isn't too happy with me since he doesn't get as much time outside as he'd like but for two reasons, he's stuck with his cushion in the house - one, I can't be outside with him and still working on the computer and, two, it's too danged cold outside to be out for more than about two minutes. I got spoiled, living on Vancouver Island, but I'm here and making the best of it. Please know that I enjoy working on these books and have, in some cases, added whole new sub plots to the story lines.