‘Seriously, I’m freaking out, right now. Holy crap! Is Karin Slaughter actually talking to me? I’m legitimately crying inside, as I’m the biggest Will Trent and Sarah Linton fan ever. No lie, Karin is my favourite female author in the entire world. I ask her for a photo and she’s all smiles (because she looks like a million bucks, standing there in a pair of sparkly diamond loafers) and says, “Absolutely, Lori.” Oh my god, she knows my name? (Yes, I was wearing a nametag, so of course, she knows my name—duh.)’
Starstruck moments happen to everyone, but for me, it doesn’t happen after a music concert when meeting Ed Sheeran (of course, it might, as I do love this guy’s music), and it doesn’t happen after a Stanley Cup play-off game when Sidney Crosby, from the Pittsburgh Penguins says hello and signs your hockey jersey (which this would be awesome too, as he is a great Canadian hockey player and they did win the Stanley Cup this year)… BUT, for me, the ULTIMATE BEST THING EVER is meeting my favourite authors who write amazing thriller novels. I’m a booklover and I love books. I’m a writer and know how hard and how much work really goes into writing a novel. I’m completely in awe of these people AND, I love, love, love these particular authors who write these books. I love them MORE than anyone else in this ENTIRE WORLD (okay, maybe not more than my hubby and children, but you understand what I’m saying—I would travel all the way to another country just to say hi to them and get them to sign my book).
Does this sound crazy? Read more
I hear you. There’s no time to write. Job. Kids. Cook dinner. Garden. Walk dog (or play with cat). Dishes. Laundry. Drive kids to hockey / dance / theatre / do kids paper route because it seemed like a good idea months ago. Go to work. Then all the other optional things: play piano; run chicken barn; paint; sing songs; construct glorious garage / workshop & orchard (that would be me); pick up dirty socks (all of us). Job (again!). Stop.
Every word I’ve written has taken the slaying of a dragon to get to the page. The dragon is my resistance to writing that rears its ugly head each and every time I try to fool myself that I can write, or that I should write instead of the multitude of other tasks that lie undone. I don’t know what it’s like for other writers, how many face this resistance, but I know there’s a few of us.