One of the most frequent questions I get asked is “Why does everything happen at 3:13 AM?” The real-life answer to this question has everything to do with how I became an author.
First, it’s important to know I’ve had severe panic and anxiety disorders since my son was born. Like, I couldn’t put my infant son down because I was afraid he’d stop breathing. I had to be within touching distance of him at night so I could make sure he was warm and breathing if I woke up.
It was bad. All of the trauma I had buried throughout my life came to the surface as I became a mom. Seven years later, I’m still struggling. I can’t leave my house by myself. I don’t drive anymore.
Yes, I’ve been through several rounds of unsuccessful therapy. Yes, I’ve tried all the medications. (I cannot take the meds anymore. They destroyed my guts. Booo!)
Now, let’s back it up to Fall 2019. I’d started a blog about living a fully functional, successful life with disabilities. I had trouble touching childhood memories in therapy. I thought telling my story through a blog rather than facing a therapist would help me touch those memories and accept things.
So, I wrote maybe six blog entries. Someone shared a post in a parents’ group, and my blog went bananas. I had hundreds of parents of kids with disabilities emailing and messaging, essentially thanking me for offering a perspective of hope.
I wasn’t prepared for that response. I kinda freaked out. The anxiety climbed into the red zone. So, I stepped back from posting the blog but continued to develop content for it. I wasn’t giving up on it, just giving myself space.
Fast forward a few months. I woke up at 3:13 AM on New Year’s Day 2020 in a full-blown panic attack. I walked through my house, checking on my loved ones, and then went into my office to calm down.
I started writing a journal entry about panic and anxiety. Writing that journal entry seemed to push the anxiety higher, so I began cruising the web for pictures to use on the blog.
I found a picture of a cute redhead and thought, “She’s adorable. I bet her name is Matilda.”
And then I just started writing this crazy story about Matilda falling into a puddle before a major meeting. I’ve been whacked by that damn wheely bag. I’ve fallen into that puddle. So, at least a the start, I was exercising anxiety-inducing events through Matty. That changed rapidly, much to the annoyance of my therapist. Matty took on a voice of her own by Chapter 2, and I was along for the ride.
It was amazing. I stepped out of reality, away from my own brand of crazy, and got to hang with the Trellis clan.
After that first night, I woke up every night at 3:13 AM with my anxiety riding high, like my subconscious craved the mental break of writing a story… writing the story that made me feel better.
Maybe three weeks later, hubby and I were getting the kiddo in the bathtub before bed. I just blurted it out. “I think I wrote a book. I mean, I definitely wrote a story, but it might also be a book.”
My husband laughed and asked to read it. He read it and loved it. I did a little looking and realized I could publish it to Amazon for free.
I had no expectations from publishing other than getting feedback. I thought writing was going to be a new hobby. I’d develop the ability to tell a good story and maybe make a little money from it by the time I retired in twenty years.
I spent a dollar on an image for the cover, and then I published The Call.
<Clicks Publish> “Well, that was fun!”
“What are you going to do now?” Hubby asked.
“I think I’m going to write another one.” I was grinning at the thought.
From 3:13-7:00 every morning, I would write. At seven, I’d take a shower and then a short nap before I got up for the day job. I kept the same schedule until I got COVID in early 2021. By that time, Building the Circle was done, and I had moved on to the Luke books.
That 3:13 middle-of-the-night writing time is still my FAVORITE time to use my words.
So no, I did not have an elaborate plan to become an author.
No, I had no intention of writing fiction. I was a technical product manager. I didn’t know a damn thing about creative writing or publishing. I have not studied writing craft. (That probably explains some things.)
But, I am analytical. When the first couple of books were well received, I went in search of how to turn my middle-of-the-night escape into a thing.
And then I turned it into a thing. Nine novels and two novellas later, here we are. The day job is gone. I’m a full-time author. It blows my mind.
Many (many) people have said, “You know, I’ve always wanted to write a book…” Or, “I’ve been thinking about writing a book…” I maintain that if I had ever sat down with the intention of writing that first book, I NEVER would have finished it.
I started out telling a story and just let it grow. I was entertaining myself before I ever thought of sharing the story with others.
In fact, I’m a terrible prude. I just about died of embarrassment when my husband gave me crap over the pool table scene. No, there’s no fetish. That scene exists because it seemed like what Jake and Matty would have done in the situation. And because I couldn’t stop laughing when Sam threw the tennis ball at the wall.
Yes, the characters really do wander around in my brain.
Yes, they really do surprise me.
Yes, I really do wake up to Sam being like “Let’s go tell a story!” Sam loves stories, but he’s terrible at telling them. He gets a little salty in my mind when I highlight that in the books. I think it’s supposed to be a secret. Sorry not sorry, Sam!
The original Matilda photo, featured here, was taken by Gabriel Silvério and distributed on Unsplash. I don’t know who she is, but I’d say thank you if I could find her.