Pru has a secret, which she has no plans to reveal – ever. But after a woman is murdered and all clues point to her, she has no choice but to disclose her true identity. When her revelations help thwart the killer’s plan to frame Pru for the murder, the killer begins stalking her. With each note he sends, he gets closer. The police are stumped. Pru wants to run away. She really, really wants to run, but Ajax has found the woman of his dreams and he’s not letting her go anywhere. He can be patient. In the meantime, he’ll protect her with his life. Pru isn’t feeling very patient, and her friends, Mel and Terri, are definitely not willing to wait until the police uncover who the stalker is. The three friends take matters into their own hands and jump headfirst into the investigation.
Will Pru and her friends uncover her stalker before he turns his violence on Pru?
It sounds strange but writing can – at times – help me as a writer to let go of old issues and move on with my life. I’m not talking about writing a memoir, which should help writers deal with old issues. I’m referring here to fiction writing. I know it sounds strange but let me explain with an example.
At some point of the narrative of Hide Not Seek, it’s important that the main character, Pru, not know the names of all her students. I won’t go into nitty gritty details as it’s only a minor detail in the plot, but here you can read the passage to which I’m referring.
“I’m serious. I have no idea who you’re talking about. Is she a former student?” Gosh, she hated it when she forgot students’ names. She wasn’t great with names, but as a teacher, she couldn’t not learn the names of her students. There was nothing more embarrassing than calling a student by the wrong name. (emphasis added)
I wrote this and then moved on, but the words stayed with me all day. Why was I willing to forgive my character for not remembering a student’s name when I wouldn’t forgive myself for the same thing? A bit of background: When I was a college student, I taught swimming classes to kids at the YMCA. One day, while I was on duty as a lifeguard, one of my students came to swim. I then proceeded to call him by the wrong name for the entire two hours he swam. His mother was with him and said nothing. Instead, she withdrew her son from my classes.
This incident bothered me for years. I was plagued by guilt! How could I have been soooo stupid? Never mind that at the time I was taking 20 credits in college and working full-time. Even today, I cringe at my stupidity.
But then I wrote about Pru’s faulty memory and something clicked in me. Hey, I thought, why didn’t the child’s mother just correct me instead of watching me call her child by the wrong name? Why didn’t she show a bit of compassion? I’ve been called the wrong name more than a few times in my life. My tennis team took a year to realize my names was Dena and not Dana. Did I care? Did I stop playing tennis with them? Or send a nasty message? No, I calmly and quietly corrected the mistake at a time when no one would be embarrassed.
Writing the above passage helped me to let go of my embarrassment about the YMCA event (and other similar events that are too tedious and boring to get into here). Instead of looking at myself from that particular mother’s perspective, I thought about how I would react in the same situation. This helped me to let go. My experiences with therapy aren’t great, but maybe writing can be my therapy.
About The Author
I grew up reading everything I could get my grubby hands on, from my mom’s Harlequin romances to Nancy Drew, to Little Women. When I wasn’t flipping pages in a library book, I was penning horrendous poems, writing songs no one should ever sing, or drafting stories which have thankfully been destroyed. College and a stint in the U.S. Army came along, robbing me of free time to write and read, although on the odd occasion I did manage to sneak a book into my rucksack between rolled up socks, MRIs, t-shirts, and cold weather gear. After surviving the army experience, I went back to school and got my law degree. I jumped ship and joined the hubby in the Netherlands before the graduation ceremony could even begin. A few years into my legal career, I was exhausted, fed up, and just plain done. I quit my job and sat down to write a manuscript, which I promptly hid in the attic before returning to the law. But practicing law really wasn’t my thing, so I quit (again!) and went off to Germany to start a B&B. Turns out running a B&B wasn’t my thing either. I polished off that manuscript languishing in the attic before following the husband to Istanbul where I decided to give the whole writer-thing a go. But ten years was too many to stay away from my adopted home. I packed up again and moved to The Hague where, in between tennis matches and failing to save the world, I’m currently working on my next book. I hope I’ll always be working on my next book.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.