About two years ago I had
surgery to remove a cancerous cyst from my saliva gland, a rather involved
four-hour surgery that’s left part of my left cheek and ear numb. About a month
post-surgery, two golden spots appeared at the back of my mind. These round
spots glowed, and I freaked—OMG brain
cancer. The surgeon was wrong. He didn’t get all the cancer and it's spread to my brain. So I
googled brain cancer like a mad woman, reading all I could on symptoms and
nowhere did it state patients complained of seeing glowing spots in the backs
of their minds.
I hated to call my cancer doctor,
knowing he’d put me through a battery of tests only to prove what I already
knew. Still, I couldn't put it off. I picked up the phone to call and the golden orbs
blinked. Blinked, mind you!
Eyes? These are eyes? And they blinked again. Well shoot, I didn’t need a cancer doctor. I
needed a shrink! I’ve got freakin’ eyes in the back of my head, glowing and
blinking and watching.
So, for a month, they waited and
willed me to speak to them. Well, my darlings, I might be half-crazed, but I
know enough not to speak to something that shouldn’t be there in the first
place.
Then one night, when I was almost
asleep, these eyes left my head and floated to the foot of my bed into a large
bear. Now, I often think characters search for the right author to tell their
stories. So I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t write children’s books.”
He shook
his head. “Oh, you’re not that kind of bear?” He shook his head again and
shifted into this dark-haired, muscled, kilt-wearing Scot. He sauntered toward
my side of the bed and I reached for my glasses. I mean, wouldn’t you? Would
you want to miss one gorgeous inch of this guy?
Again, I apologized. “Hon, you’re
still in the wrong writer’s house. I don’t write paranormal.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and
I scooted over closer to Calvin to make sure his fine kilted behind had plenty of room. Ah...the Scot's, not Calvin's.
“Aye,
lassie, but ye will. Me name is Creighton Matheson. In Scottish, mathe means
bear and I am the head of a sleuth of bears. Have ye ever heard how bears came to be
extinct in Scotland?” I shook my head. I mean, how could I talk with a mouthful
of drool?
He told me this fantastical story of how the Vikings killed off the
male bears and imprisoned the sow and baby bears in a cave along the coastline, blocking the entrance with rocks and boulders.
The next morning I googled “Are
bears extinct in Scotland?” Chills slithered up my spine. They were. Sources
claimed the extinction was due to over-hunting and the government was trying to
reintroduce them into the Highlands. But I had a better story; one from a
bear-shifter, himself.
Now bears can be determined
creatures and mine would have no rest until I started his book. So I set aside my
work in progress for a month and wrote a few chapters to quiet the bear. By
then I was in love with my bear-shifter, this sexy man with a duality that both
wounded my soul and charmed me. I needed…needed…for
him to have his HEA.
I was also plagued with a huge
problem: I didn’t know the paranormal romance genre. I felt like a fake for
even trying to write one. So, I wrote it as my play story. Anytime I hit a rough spot in the story I was currently writing, I'd pop over to my little paranormal and write a few pages. The change gave my mind a chance to work through the problems in my real book. In addition, writing in a world so different relaxed me.
Still, the question remains: Why
bears? Why would a bear come to me at that time of my life? From my research, bears are a healing totem, one that requires you to
rest (hibernation) and to find your strength. Mine certainly helped me through
my six months of recovery and to strengthen my writing.
Visit Vonnie at www.vonniedavis.com
5 comments:
How fun, Vonnie! And I'm really glad the golden spots were what they were. :-) Can't wait for your new release!
There's a line between creativity and insanity? Who knew! You're not crazy,Vonnie. Just good at your job!
Leah, my heroes come to me in the oddest of ways. I've had men ride horses into our bedroom. A man on a Harley circling our bed, quite a feat since the headboard is against the wall and French government agents slamming our bedroom door and arguing with me over how I'd written a scene. I'm telling you, the men just won't leave me alone. LOL I must admit to being very nervous about this upcoming release. Will the paranormal fake be exposed???
Thanks, Jannine. I hadn't planned on anyone seeing this book. But I'd told our agent what I was working on since my current WIP had me stumped. So when the editor at Random House asked if I didn't have anything uncontracted, Dawn mentioned I did have a paranormal I was working on. The editor wanted to see it right away...and I was not pleased. It was my playtime story...a place to unwind...now it's become a series that's tied me up tightly.
Aw, shucks! I'm so sorry I came to this post late. What a fantastic story about, what I am sure is to be a really fantastic book. I doubt you'll be exposed as a fake, because, now you DO write paranormal. Your story gave me chills. I wish my ideas came to me in such fun and exciting ways. Best wishes!
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