Today's guest is Jan Harman - the author of Brush of Shade.
Background:
My family didn’t have much fun money when I was growing up.
It was a rare treat for us when we got a burger from a fast food place. Going
to the movies was even rarer. But what my sister and I did get was book money,
so we could buy a book off our school’s equivalent of the Scholastic Book
list. I poured over those pages with my red
pencil in hand rating each book with stars. When the books would finally come
in, I’d lose myself in those worlds. To this day, one of my favorite things to
do is to stand in the aisle of a book store and
contemplate my selection. Throughout my childhood, characters and stories always
stirred around inside my mind often distracting me from my tasks. My parents
were practical people, so when it came time to pick a college major, it had to
be something that would get me a real job not something artsy. Regrettably, my
characters took a backseat while I pursued a career as a computer programmer.
But all that changed when health concerns for my two daughters transformed me
into a homeschooling mom. When my three kids were tackling a creative writing
assignment, I would task myself with producing an example. Over time, bits and
pieces of a story formed. Characters spoke to me at odd hours of the day, but
life was hectic and the characters had to wait. Then one day I broke my arm and had to have
surgery. Knowing I was bored out of my mind, my daughters, now in high school
and college, pleaded with me to work on my story because they were still waiting
to see how it all played out. The result of this labor of love is my debut
novel Brush of Shade.
My writing process:
I’m supposed to have a process? A few months ago that very
concept would’ve made my fingers freeze over the keyboard. You see, based on
how things flowed or didn’t for several years with my first book, I never
developed any set habits. I’m embarrassed to admit that when it came time to
start the second book in the series, I slammed straight into an imaginary brick
wall. With Brush of Shade, I had a compilation of descriptions, events, and
characters plus all the internal interactions that had been batting about
inside my skull all those years. I was a published author now. I was supposed
to know what to do next. I read countless author postings on Goodreads looking
for direction. I picked up books on the writing process. I got so bogged down
that for the first time that I could remember the characters stopped speaking.
When my kids, now all at college, called home, they kept asking how the second
book was going. I had to change the subject. Was this what writer’s block felt
like? Something had to change. Somebody had to have the answers. So I turned to
my characters and asked them pointed questions. Wow, XYZ event in the book sure
was intense. How are you doing now? Do you feel stronger, older, wary, afraid,
happy, depressed, angry, or vindictive? Are you suffering from post-traumatic
stress or do you think you’re invincible? While we’re on the subject, tell me
what you’ve given up and do you want it back? What are you willing to do or
willing to sacrifice to save those you love? Once I realized that my characters
were no longer the same, plot highlights began to take shape. With a rough
outline in mind, I started the story, allowing the characters and their
reactions to events to shape all the parts in between. My process I’ve
discovered is messy. I allow every idea its moment on the page, knowing that
what I’m creating is a crude draft. Each day I reread what I wrote the day
before, allowing my mind to become energized by the drama on the pages. While I
might pause to edit the glaring errors, usually I leave behind a trail of track
changes filled with my gut reactions. After more brutal passes through the story
than I want to think about at this point, I hope I will eventually create a book
worthy of being a reader’s temporary home.
Brush of Shade description:
Olivia Pepperdine has a love hate relationship with quiet.
Silence reminds her of the accident that killed her parents and left her
trapped in a mangled car. On that isolated stretch of road with the weight of
all that silence pressing against her mind and body, something sinister had
kept them company. Since that night a voice haunts her nightmares and snakes
out to torment when she is alone and vulnerable.
Still recovering physically and mentally from the loss of
her parents, high school senior Olivia finds herself living with an aunt she
hardly knows in a small town in the middle of no-where. Spring Valley, Colorado
should hold the connection to her father she longs for, but that longed for
connection turns out to be more than Olivia ever imaged. Behind closed doors
things in this sleepy community are far from ordinary. One by one fundamental
truths are stripped aside as everything she ever believed about her family is
called into question.
Determined to embrace normal even if it means ignoring the
flashes of movement she’d been seeing out of the corner of her eye since her
discharge from the hospital, Olivia is unnerved by the local residents. From
the moment Olivia and her Aunt Claire arrive at the local gas station where
strangers gawk and pay for her purchases to the spine-tingling electric shock
that lifts her off the pew at her parent’s wake, the voice, half-truths, and an
impossible rescue draw Olivia deeper into a web of secrets and the realization
that the accident that had killed her parents might have been a cover for
murder.
An after school job at Hattie’s quirky tourist shop brings
Olivia into the life and arms of Shade, a guy who could put Prince Charming and
the sexiest man in Hollywood to shame. Mesmerizing eyes unlike anything she has
ever seen reveal the depth of his emotions that he can’t keep hidden while his
irresistible drawl whispers to her wounded soul. Noble to his core, Shade is
determined to treat her like a kid sister despite the connection between them
that fills the empty places in her heart.
But Shade, like the residents of the valley, hides a secret,
one that compels Olivia to take on an inherited responsibility that upends the
future she’d envisioned. Secrets, hidden chambers, and an ancestor’s alliance
propel Olivia into a world where voices are both weapons and instruments of
comfort. As the line between sanity and fantasy blurs, Olivia must dig deep to
unearth the courage to redefine normal, even if belief in the paranormal may be
more than her troubled mind can handle. It might very well be the straw that
sends her back into her cushioned world of prescription drugs and psychiatrist
visits. To keep Olivia safe, Shade pledges his life to her side in a move that
could rob her of her will and turn the elders against him.
Undercurrents within the quaint western town surge to the
surface as those that oppose centuries of traditions begin to plot their rise
to power. When the threat risks the lives of those close to her, Olivia must
learn the identity of the people out to destroy the valley or face losing what
could become the permanent place to call home that her heart has been searching
for.
Excerpt:
“No, Olivia isn’t ready,” Aunt Claire argued.
“That might not be a concern if we don’t get her help soon.
Sorry, Claire, I’ve got to follow her orders. I’ve got to save the legacy.”
“Don’t use that ploy to get your way. Again no oaths have
been given.”
“What is he . . .” I couldn’t finish. Fire engulfed me,
scorching my insides. I doubled over writhing in my aunt’s arms as sweat
lathered my body
.
“Go,” Aunt Claire ordered, pulling a blanket tight around my
shoulders.
I lolled against her side, not fully comprehending the
strange scene unfolding outside the window. Shade had tossed his heavy coat
into the back seat and was standing outside, shaking hard in the middle of a
blizzard wearing an unzipped, stadium jacket. Snow streaked across the
windshield, piling up along the edges and making it difficult for me to see
outside. The next gust swallowed his body.
I strained against Aunt Claire’s hold. “Make him come back
inside. He’ll freeze to death.”
“Olivia, listen to me. He’s alright. Trust us. Trust Shade.
Everything will be fine.”
When had I finally crossed the line over to the side of
crazy? My scream couldn’t get past my narrowed throat. I shrank back, shoving
frantically at my aunt’s restraining arm as translucent hands, with no real fixed
shape, reached out for me. A whimpered scream became a faint sob as washed-out
blue eyes swam into focus.
“Claire, don’t attempt to drive. It’s too dangerous. Shad
and my father are coming. They’ll get you home. Come with me, Olivia.”
“Come?” I squeaked, too terrified to mount a struggle as hot
hands, that blended with the gray of the seat cushion and then changed over to
the navy blue of my sweater, pulled me against a ghostlike chest.
“Trust me, Livi. I will protect you.”
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