There are any number of reasons I could give you why I love C. Hope Clark, not the lease of which are her free writers aids, Funds for Writers and her newsletters, and the fact that she is of the genus Austeralis Dominæ, Southern Belle - one of my personal favorite. Now there is another reason: Lowcountry Bribe, her new novel. For a first time novelist, Hope has hit a winner. I've invited her to share something with us here at Poetica in Silentium, and ever the gracious Southern Lady, she graciously accepted. Take a look at this and then GO BUY HER BOOK!
Here is C. Hope Clark:
What if Real Isn't Real Enough?
By
C. Hope Clark
These
days I'm running my legs down to stumps, or rather fingers down to nubs,
promoting the release of Lowcountry Bribe, A Carolina Slade
Mystery. Just released in February by Bell
Bridge Books, the first in the series is set in rural South Carolina. The story
takes a US Department of Agriculture bureaucrat and turns her into a rogue,
amateur sleuth when a threat arrives in the form of a hog farmer. And I find
myself chuckling about the whole situation because I was once offered such a
bribe. By a hog farmer.
So
is the book about me? Not at all. I actually wrote about the real situation,
years ago, in an effort to exorcize the traumatic event out of my system. Took
me two years to complete the task only for editors, authors, and an agent to
tell me that the story wasn't interesting enough.
Seriously?
The
situation, at the time, scared me silly. The case involved federal agents and I
received a warning from the culprit that he'd "get" me, but the case
fizzled, he went free, and I moved on. So I did what any self-respecting writer
does in such a situation: I turned it into fiction.
Jesse drew me by
my stretched sleeve to the truck bed, my face barely a foot from the nearest
body. "There's ten thousand dollars in it for you," he whispered,
draping his arm around my shoulders. "If you find a way to get me the
Williams farm. We can iron out the details later . . . in private." He
winked and clicked his tongue. "If you know what I mean."
Panic
coursed through me at the altered state. Like hearing that your churchgoing
mother liked bourbon straight and sex on top.
He'd
offered me a bribe.
The
opening chapter of Lowcountry Bribe is similar to
reality, but from that small piece of my life, a story takes off on its own
with new characters, a different location, and the craziest of twists . . . and
I had an absolute ball spinning the yarn into a whole different reality . . . a
world of its own.
O-positive primer
wasn't quite the color I had in mind for the small office, but Lucas Sherwood
hadn't given the decor a second thought when he blew out the left side of his
head with a .45.
As the office
manager, I identified Lucas' body for the cops, and gave the poor man a quick
moment of silence with thoughts to a higher power that he be let through the
pearly gates. He died in a place he didn't like, doing work he wasn't very good
at, having no place else to go. No mother gives birth thinking her child will
end up like this. Reading the unexpected note scrawled across his desk pad,
gripped me. "Sorry, Slade." Apologizing for what, I didn't know.
Damn it, Lucas.
What were you thinking?
Lucas Sherwood
was death number two. A year ago, almost to the day, my easygoing boss Mickey
Wilder drove to one of the islands and never returned. I immediately stepped
into Mickey's job but sensed he continued to peer over my shoulder, my
perpetual mentor. His leadership spirit still hovered in the office. The cops
labeled his disappearance a probable suicide based on a string of personal
factors I wasn't privy to. The police moved on. We remained behind, shaken in
our foundation of Mickey thanks to the whispers and innuendo.
None
of that happened. But I could envision the office I once inhabited as I walked
through the set up. I once worked on those references islands. Nobody
disappeared like that, but stop and think . . . what if? Take any crossroad in
your life and ask . . . what if? Therein starts a tale.
When
writing instructors say "write what you know," it doesn't always mean
that you record precisely what you experienced or remain limited by the exact
facts. Writing what you know is a seed. Plant it, then let it sprout, climb,
coil, fork, blossom and bear fruit that you never expected. If we only wrote in
the familiar, we'd become boorish and self-absorbed, but if we take a moment to
get quirky, unique, and creative, that "knowledge" becomes remarkably
entertaining.
BIO
Hope
is founder of FundsforWriters.com, a
career resource for freelance writers, recognized by Writer's Digest Magazine
in its 101 Best Websites for Writers for 2001 through 2011. Her
online publications reach over
43,000 readers each week, and she makes appearances at conferences across the
country. In 2012, Hope will speak in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, South
Carolina, Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia, Iowa and Oklahoma. www.fundsforwriters.com
But
Clark considers the Carolina Slade Mystery Series her professional personal
best, debuting with Lowcountry Bribe.
The novel won several awards as
it evolved, from semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award to
finalist in the Daphne du Maurier Award for Mystery/Suspense. Hope graduated
from Clemson University, in the field of agriculture, enabling her to walk the
walk of her protagonist, the illustrious Carolina Slade. www.chopeclark.com
