Sometimes I get an idea in my head. It can come from a dream, a TV show, a conversation—but most often it comes from a song.
When I get stuck, the best thing I can do is get into my car and put on some music. There’s something about driving down the highway, the miles flying by with music blaring that sets my brain free. If I’m lucky, the story unfurls in my head, like a movie playing. I will often come home with my face red and tears coursing down my cheeks because, let’s face it, I like tortured souls and the “love sets them free” stories.
I hadn’t planned on writing Siren in Waiting. I really hadn’t. The next book after Siren Beloved was supposed to be a book about Leo. But I was driving down the road, and I heard a song. The House that Built Me by Miranda Lambert. Yes, most of you know what I’m talking about. It’s a damn three hanky song because almost every single one of us have felt the aching need to go back to the simpler time the song evokes.
And on the third or fourth play, I saw Trev McNamara standing outside a ranch house, his battered truck at his side. He stared at that house where he grew up and his whole soul longed for it. He longed for a place where he hadn’t screwed up, where he was still young and the world was wide open.
I had to write it. Siren in Waiting is about a Texas family dealing with loss and the way the world can chew a person up, spit him back out and how family and love and finding a place in the world can put a man back together. Oh and there’s some pretty kinky sex in there, too.
I thought it would be a good time to talk about this book. It’s Thanksgiving weekend. In the last several years most of my family on my mother’s side has passed away. It was the first Thanksgiving I spent without my family. It was just me, my brother and his family, my mom, and the two best friends a girl could possibly have. It was an amazing Thanksgiving. Just because one family is gone, lost forever, doesn’t mean we can’t build a new one. Happy Thanksgiving to all of the families—those of blood and those we’ve cobbled together and to everyone still trying to find the way home.