Little Mercies
Page 27
Can you describe your writing process? Do you outline first or dive right in? Do you write scenes consecutively or jump around? Do you have a schedule or a routine? A lucky charm?
I always begin a writing project by treating myself to a beautiful journal and spend the first month or so composing life histories for each of the characters. I describe their physical characteristics, their fears and hopes. I dream up their fictional pasts and futures even if the details don’t find their way onto the pages of the book. Then I begin writing the novel in longhand. This way I’m able to write nearly anywhere and minimize distractions. Later I transfer what I’ve written to a computer and continue to add to the story. Sometimes the story unfolds chronologically and at times I leap to an event near the end of the book only to return to an earlier scene. The characters tend to guide the direction I go. When I’ve finished writing the first draft I will print off a copy and begin making revisions. I also give out a copy of the manuscript to some family members and a few friends for their input.
As for a writing routine or schedule, I write whenever and wherever I can. As I am the mother of three teenagers, my uninterrupted writing time is rare, but for me, my family always comes first. I steal those quiet writing moments whenever I can. I don’t have a lucky charm per se, but if someone were to peek in on me as I was writing, I’d likely have a Diet Coke and some chocolate nearby.
“Deeply moving and exquisitely lyrical, this is a powerhouse of a novel.”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author, on The Weight of Silence
If you loved Little Mercies by New York Times bestselling author Heather Gudenkauf, be sure to also catch these other compelling and emotionally charged titles by this gifted author:
The Weight of Silence
These Things Hidden
One Breath Away
Available now in ebook format.
And be sure to also pick up Heather’s digital prequel to Little Mercies, Little Lies, available now wherever you buy ebooks!
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“A twisty, roller coaster ride of a debut. Fans of Gone Girl will embrace this equally evocative tale of a missing woman, shattered family and the lies we tell not just to each other, but especially to ourselves.”
—Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Fear Nothing
If you’re looking for an addictively suspenseful and tautly written thriller, be sure to catch The Good Girl (August 2014), a compulsive debut by Mary Kubica, where you’ll find that even in the perfect family, nothing is as it seems…
Available in ebook. Order your copy today!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Holly
I’m in that lovely space between consciousness and sleep. I feel no pain thanks to the morphine pump and I can almost believe that the muscles, tendons and skin of my left arm have knitted themselves back together, leaving my skin smooth and pale. My curly brown hair once again falls softly down my back, my favorite earrings dangle from my ears and I can lift both sides of my mouth in a wide smile without much pain at the thought of my children. Yes, drugs are a wonderful thing. But the problem is that while the carefully prescribed and doled-out narcotics by the nurses wonderfully dull the edges of this nightmare, I know that soon enough this woozy, pleasant feeling will fall away and all that I will be left with is pain and the knowledge that Augie and P.J. are thousands of miles away from me. Sent away to the place where I grew up, the town I swore I would never return to, the house I swore I would never again step into, to the man I never wanted them to meet.
The tinny melody of the ringtone that Augie, my thirteen-year-old daughter, programmed into my cell phone is pulling me from my sleep. I open one eye, the one that isn’t covered with a thick ointment and crusted shut, and call out for my mother, who must have stepped out of the room. I reach for the phone that is sitting on the tray table at the side of my bed and the nerve endings in my bandaged left arm scream in protest at the movement. I carefully shift my body to pick up the phone with my good hand and press the phone to my remaining ear.
“Hello.” The word comes out half-formed, breathless and scratchy, as if my lungs were still filled with smoke.
“Mom?” Augie’s voice is quavery, unsure. Not sounding like my daughter at all. Augie is confident, smart, a take-charge, no one is ever going to walk all over me kind of girl.
“Augie? What’s the matter?” I try to blink the fuzziness of the morphine away; my tongue is dry and sticks to the roof of my mouth. I want to take a sip of water from the glass sitting on my tray, but my one working hand holds the phone. The other lies useless at my side. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
There are a few seconds of quiet and then Augie continues. “I love you, Mom,” she says in a whisper that ends in quiet sobs.
I sit up straight in my bed, wide awake now. Pain shoots through my bandaged arm and up the side of my neck and face. “Augie, what’s the matter?”
“I’m at school.” She is crying in that way she has when she is doing her damnedest not to. I can picture her, head down, her long brown hair falling around her face, her eyes squeezed shut in determination to keep the tears from falling, her breath filling my ear with short, shallow puffs. “He has a gun. He has P.J. and he has a gun.”
“Who has P.J.?” Terror clutches at my chest. “Tell me, Augie, where are you? Who has a gun?”
“I’m in a closet. He put me in a closet.”
My mind is spinning. Who could be doing this? Who would do this to my children? “Hang up,” I tell her. “Hang up and call 9-1-1 right now, Augie. Then call me back. Can you do that?” I hear her sniffles. “Augie,” I say again, more sharply. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” she finally says. “I love you, Mom,” she says softly.
“I love you, too.” My eyes fill with tears and I can feel the moisture pool beneath the bandages that cover my injured eye.
I wait for Augie to disconnect when I hear three quick shots, followed by two more and Augie’s piercing screams.
I feel the bandages that cover the left side of my face peel away, my own screams loosening the adhesive holding them in place; I feel the fragile, newly grafted skin begin to unravel. I am scarcely aware of the nurses and my mother rushing to my side, tearing the phone from my grasp.
Copyright © 2012 by Heather Gudenkauf
ISBN-13: 9781460330166
LITTLE MERCIES
Copyright © 2014 by Heather Gudenkauf
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