This week my friend Polly Iyer, who writes romantic suspense, is my guest. She's the author of Murder Déjà Vu, InSight, and Hooked, with another soon to be released.
This is Valentine’s Day, so I’m going to write about love. And torture. You may not think those two things go hand-in-hand, but in my books, they do. My critique partners knew that when they started one of my stories, my characters would suffer unimaginable hardships. I couldn’t help it. I had to put them through hell before they found love at the end of the book. And I mean hell.
Psychologist Abby is blinded by her schizophrenic ex-husband before she meets Luke, the cop who lost his hearing on the job. Wealthy architect Reece spent fifteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit before meeting the ex-wife of the unscrupulous DA who wants to send him back to prison by any means he can. Tawny, the ex-call girl with a PhD in art history, is blackmailed into going back into the life by a hot sex-crime investigator. Former child psychic turned entertainer Diana is the target of a man who went to prison because of clues she unearthed as a child. Oh, and he’s psychic. Not only do these characters have to overcome their personal baggage, they have to dig themselves out of the holes others have created for them. Namely, me. Is it manipulation on my part? Sure. But they find love at the end—justification, in my mind, for their torture. See? I’m really not a bad person.
Since this is Valentine’s Day, I want to share another kind of love: personal love. Not my family. That goes without saying. No, my self-indulgent love of writing. My greatest joy at this point in my life is sitting in my home office and banging out twisted stories where my characters extricate themselves from one threatening situation after another. It took a long time before I was comfortable telling people I was a writer, and now I’m proclaiming it in black and white. I still have to force myself to think it, write it, and say it, fearful readers will find out I’m a fraud.
I know this is a “love” day, but along with the love of writing comes other things I don’t love, so forgive my digression. I don’t love the PR involved in getting my name out there. The blatant self-promotion makes me uncomfortable. I know it’s part of the package, but I don’t have to like it, nor do I do it well. There’s a fine line separating the right amount of promotion with overkill, and we’ve all seen that. It’s a turn-off, and a writer has to be careful not to cross the line. I like Facebook—it’s fun, and I’ve met some great people. I tweet, but I haven’t caught on to it yet to make much of a difference. It’s time-consuming, and I’d rather write. I don’t have a blog. Maybe I should, but I can’t imagine I have anything to say others haven’t said better. I’ve probably made my point with this blog post. I rest my case.
Polly Iyer was born on the coast of
Massachusetts and now resides in the beautiful Piedmont region of in an empty nest house with her husband and a drooling mutt named Max. She’s been an artist, importer, designer, and store owner, but writing is her passion. She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and Sisters in Crime. Her stand-alone novels can be found on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. You can learn more about her at: http://PollyIyer.com South Carolina
Murder Déjà Vu is free on Amazon Feb 14-16. Yes, that’s today. After wealthy architect Reece Daughtry spent fifteen years in prison for a murder he didn’t commit, someone’s framing him again. This time he won’t be railroaded. He goes underground to find the killer, or die trying.