the final stretch

As I enter the final stretch of Tiny Shadows, I’m flooded with relief that my hard work has paid off, bewilderment at all the revisions I know I need to make, and cautious optimism that this is the novel that will change everything for me.

This is my tenth novel, yet it will be my debut. This is the novel that has taught me more about myself and my writing process than any other novel. I’ve learned how to outline, how to work a plot all the way through before putting pen to paper (or more accurately, fingers to keyboard). I’ve learned to power through and continue writing even when an important aspect of the story has changed. I’ve discovered some flaws in my character development and world building process, and am learning how to overcome them. I’ve even come to terms with discarding a complete 60,000 word prequel because it turned out it just wasn’t necessary. Tiny Shadows has truly changed me as a writer.

I leave this blog post with a snippet of the words that have changed me. I hope my readers enjoy this sample from the prologue.

She stood at the ornate oval mirror, staring into her own eyes. Averie studied their slight upturn, running her finger along the unusual curvature of her lids.

Mosaicism, they called it.

The Austrian doctors had dismissed it as a minor genetic abnormality. A blip in her genetics that was so inconsequential she hadn’t even learned about it until adulthood.

But it explained so much. The unusual shape of her eyes, which her high school sweetheart had once called exotic. The constant respiratory infections as a child. Every developmental delay that had ever frustrated and disappointed her father.

Maybe even the miscarriage.

But the one thing it didn’t explain was her gift for music. That, Bernard Sampini had insisted, was the genetic exception that truly defined who she was. The conductor had swept her up and taken her under his wing before she’d even had the chance to graduate from high school—which was fortunate timing, as it saved her from certain condemnation by the Department of Life Preservation for concealing the miscarriage.

Her finger lifted from the corner of her eye and drifted down to the silver hairbrush on the vanity. As she trailed her fingers along the handle, she felt the warmth of his presence behind her. A little smile tugged at her lip.

“Whatever flaw they say you possess, it has done nothing to destroy you,” he murmured, tucking a lock of wavy chestnut hair her hair behind her ear. “Averie. You are beautiful, and brilliant.”

She turned, and Sebastian enveloped her in his arms, kissing the corners of her eyes, her forehead, her mouth. She sighed contentedly as his lips found her neck.

“Again? We don’t have time…” she protested unconvincingly.

“Cherie, I can always make time…”