To honour my exciting three nominations in the ARRA Awards the characters of my book Lost In Kakadu are taking me to dinner. But I’m a little nervous. No, that’s an understatement. I’m extremely nervous. I can be a little tough on my characters. Some would call me a sadist. But it’s for a good cause. A couple of good causes actually. Not only do my characters truly discover who they are, my readers also have a jolly good time following their journey.
So where would my character Abigail take me? It would be a highly pretentious, swanky joint with a million dollar view, where they serve the best ingredients and most expensive wine. Just because I threw her into the jungle with nothing but a few cans of beans and sack or two of flour, doesn’t mean she’d forget the life of luxury she had before the plane crash. Right?
How about my character Mackenzie? He’d take me to his own restaurant, wouldn’t he? I know I gave him a troubled life, full of tragedy and triumph. I guess he also suffered near starvation and I tortured him with the chore of catching his own food with nothing but a sling shot made from Abigail’s fancy lace bra. I admit I took him to hell and back in Lost In Kakadu, but he did get to tantalise his chef’s pallet with some good old fashioned Aussie tucker. Eating witchetty grubs, frogs and snails will make him appreciate perfectly cooked lobster.
But when Mackenzie wraps a black tie around my eyes, the knot in my stomach turns into a giant slab of cement. I guess it’s his way of showing me how dark it can be in the jungle. I remember I wrote, “The blackness around him was like swimming in a tar pit.” I’m experiencing that now. But wait, where are they taking me? And why do I need to take my shoes off? The rocks under my feet are sharp and the branches snapping against my arms are rough, against my cheeks, brutal. Was that a spider web?
Abigail instructs me to sit, the snigger in her voice is not good. I reach out expecting to feel a chair, but no, a craggy log will do. And given that I made my characters rough it out without any luxuries, I shouldn’t be surprised.
A plate is positioned on my lap. “Eat.” Abigail seems a little cranky. Doesn’t she remember her path of self-discovery? What about their unexpected romance?
“Do I get cutlery?” But I already know the answer.
Help me people. These characters are mean. Mean I tell you. Please vote for me, so they understand that sometimes crashing down to earth is exactly what people need.
Lost In Kakadu is nominated for Best Romantic Suspense and Best Book Cover, and I’m nominated for Best New Author.
Join ARRA to vote: http://www.australianromancereaders.com.au/join.html