When I sat down to write my YA paranormal romance novel Death Wish, I had solid expectations for what would flow out onto the page. All the fiction I’d written for myself to that point was light-hearted and fun, with a dry tone and a fair amount of what my husband has dubbed ‘buffoonery’ (think Bridget Jones-style disasters). Imagine my surprise, then, when I read back the first chapter of Death Wish and discovered I’d written something very different indeed. Something darker, something intense.My first reaction was concern. As a professional ghostwriter, it’s my day job to write for other people, as other people. Had I unwittingly adopted someone else’s voice? I looked closely at the chapter. Nope; it was all me. This was writing that dug beneath a jokey exterior down to the core of me, and laid bare real emotion: fear, grief, longing.
What followed was a period of pondering. Happily (!) I had horrendous morning sickness at the time which created a lot of time for lying on the sofa groaning/thinking. Should I continue in this new, surprising vein? Or should I delete this first chapter and get stuck into another book idea – a more frivolous, fun one?
When it came down to it, I was too intrigued to quit. Many months later, I’d written close to 350,000 words in this voice, to the point that it was no longer strange and new, but the absolute ‘me’ on paper. I couldn’t help but let a little of the lighter voice be heard sometimes – light relief is essential for both reader and writer – but overall I characterise The Ceruleans series as intense fiction, paranormal romance with soul.
It’s not easy to write so emotionally. The second book in the series, Forget Me Not, was especially hard on me at times, because while writing about loss and grief is cathartic, it’s also painful. Ernest Hemingway put it beautifully: ‘There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.’ I bled a lot in the writing of these books!
Why put myself through it? Because I believe the best writing comes from very deep inside. My hope is that readers will respect my honesty in my writing, my willingness to be vulnerable and explore emotions that are all too easy to bury. Meanwhile, I’ll get on with writing the next book, armed with a very tall stack of Kleenex…
Thirty-odd years later, Megan writes the kinds of books she loves to read: young-adult paranormal romance fiction. Young adult, because it’s the time of life that most embodies freedom and discovery and first love. Paranormal, because she’s always believed that there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. And romance, because she’s a misty-eyed dreamer who lives for those ‘life is so breathtakingly beautiful’ moments.
Megan grew up in the Royal County, a hop, skip and a (very long) jump from Windsor Castle, but these days she makes her home in Robin Hood’s county, Nottingham. She lives with her husband, a proud Scot who occasionally kicks back in a kilt; her son, a budding artist with the soul of a
paleontologist; and her baby daughter, a keen pan-and-spoon drummer who sings in her sleep. When she’s not writing, you’ll find her walking someplace green, reading by the fire, or creating carnage in the kitchen as she pursues her impossible dream: of baking something edible.
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