Every author’s path to publication is unique. I’ve been writing since the 1970’s and my first book was published in 1984. Though I had always wanted to write full-length books, my life had taken a different turn and I was working in the computer industry. I had begun writing columns for several computer magazines and one day I received a letter from an editor who had been reading my columns, was impressed, and wanted me to write a book. He and I met on one of his trips to Washington, DC (where I was living at the time) and decided on a subject for the book. It had the gripping name (not) of Creating the Perfect Database.
After writing several computer books, I decided that I wanted to try my hand at writing fiction, something I’d always wanted to do. I began studying the craft and took two writer’s courses through Writer’s Digest. The courses were invaluable; I was paired with a published author in my genre who worked with me one-on-one. In those days, I mailed each lesson to the instructor and waited a week or two for his response to arrive in the mail. With each feedback I received, it made my writing stronger.
After completing my first novel and editing it at least nine times, I found the most challenging aspect was finding a suitable publisher. I purchased Writer’s Market and began contacting the largest publishers in my genre and then worked my way down to mid-size and finally to small publishers. With a two-year span, I received enough rejection slips to wallpaper my house. I began writing my second novel while continuing to sell the first. I turned down one publisher who wanted me to rewrite the novel, changing the characters from a female-male relationship to a lesbian relationship. Then a small publisher accepted the book the way it had been written, and I never looked back.
After my first three novels had been published, another publisher contacted me about writing a book on promoting books. It turned out that he’d heard about me from so many different sources that he thought the authors he had published could learn something from me about ways to promote and market myself and my writing.
I am with a mid-size publisher today. At one time, I had goals of being published by one of the largest New York publishers but that has fallen by the wayside. I am quite comfortable where I am with the books I’m selling, and I like the more personal attention that a smaller publisher can provide. I also find the lead time much shorter than the largest publishers, who might schedule a release two or even three years after accepting the manuscript.
About The Author
p.m.terrell is the pen name for Patricia McClelland Terrell, a multi-award-winning, internationally acclaimed author of more than twenty books in five genres: contemporary suspense, historical suspense, romance, computer how-to and non-fiction.
Prior to writing full-time, she founded two computer companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area. Among her clients were the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Secret Service, U.S. Information Agency, and Department of Defense. Her specialties were in white collar computer crimes and computer intelligence, themes that have carried forward to her suspense.
She is also the co-founder of The Book ‘Em Foundation, an organization committed to raising public awareness of the correlation between high crime rates and high illiteracy rates. She is the organizer and chairperson of Book ‘Em North Carolina, an annual event held in the real town of Lumberton, North Carolina, to raise funds to increase literacy and reduce crime. For more information on this event and the literacy campaigns funded by it, visit www.bookemnc.org.
Author’s website: www.pmterrell.com
Book Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7QYLfXSQeo
Paperback on amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Thin-Slice-Heaven-p-m-terrell/dp/1935970348/
She had arranged to meet her husband in Northern Ireland for a second honeymoon, but when Charleigh arrives at the remote castle, she receives a message that he won’t be coming—and that he’s leaving her for another woman.
Stranded for the weekend by a snowstorm that has blocked all access to the castle, she finds herself three thousand miles from home in a country she knows nothing about.
She is soon joined by Sean Bracken, the great-grandson of Laird Bracken, the original owner of the castle, and she finds herself falling quickly and madly in love with him. There’s just one problem: he’s dead.
As the castle begins to come alive with secrets from centuries past, she finds herself trapped between parallel worlds. Caught up in a mass haunting, she can no longer recognize the line between the living and the dead. Now she’s discovering that her appearance there wasn’t by accident—and her life is about to change forever.
“What’s happening?” Charleigh whispered. Her throat had grown dry and her voice was hoarse with tension. Though she attempted to keep her tone low so they would remain unobserved, it sounded loud and harsh in the strident atmosphere that seemed suddenly to have gripped the village. She felt anxiety growing deep within her and the urge to get back to the castle burgeoned with ferocity and urgency; but she realized with a sickening sensation in the pit of her soul that the growing inharmonious throngs were between them and the sanctuary of her room.
“Do not be afraid, m’ Leah,” Sean answered. He did not whisper but his voice was deep and taut. After a moment, he said, “They are reenacting an event that occurred… some time ago.”
“Oh,” she breathed. She should have felt relief but her insides continued to roil as if his explanation did not match the scene unfolding before her. Nervously, she said, “Reenactors. We have them in America.”
“You have witnessed them, then?”
“Yes. I find them very interesting…” She forced the words past her dry lips. “They reenact battles from the Civil War and the Revolutionary War, mainly.”
As the churning skies turned to the color of tar, Charleigh could discern the sources of the strange glow: they were torches held aloft by dozens of people. More were joining them, stragglers rushing from the village to catch up, while they began to spread apart in a more orderly column as they converged on the flat land they’d crossed on their way into the village. One man in the forefront stopped and began pointing and directing those that followed.
“These reenactments,” Sean continued, “were the people alive?”