By Courtney Pierce
I can tell when an author has personal experience with the
pain and conflict they write about. I dive into a book—my own or someone
else’s—with a load of cargo that sticks and prickles in my skin like emotional
Velcro. Experiences with love, loss, betrayal, divorce, and death give us fuel
to connect with like-minded characters. That’s why I pump my protagonists full of
emotions based on my own experiences. And I have an animal (usually a dog or
cat) in the mix to act as the lightning rod of sensitivity.
Animals react with all their senses. They perk their ears
to listen, sniff the air for trouble, hood their eyes in anger, and make all
kinds of noises as if they’re having a conversation. The droop of a dog’s
tail in disappointment squeezes my heart. A vigorous wag of loyalty makes me smile. These
gestures only magnify the sentiment at the center of a story.
What really draws me like a magnet is the moment when a
character falls in love, especially if the hook-up is unexpected. It can be a
world-rocker if the character has been previously hurt to their core. The
world opens with the ability to trust after having been betrayed. Promises of
“I’ll never ever do that to you” and “Shhh . . . just hold me” hint that
anything’s possible.
In turn, when a character unexpectedly loses the love of
their life through no fault of their own, I can be reduced to tears. My mind
races to all the words that will never be said. Their hopes and dreams won’t be
fulfilled. The pain of ripped separation is sometimes more than I can bear. ..
. but I keep reading.

Heartstrings get plucked by the simplest of things—a
glance, a snub, an unfair snark. Insecurities ignite a whole host of emotions.
Dialogue can be only a word or two to start a rapid heartbeat. That moment
comes exactly at the 50% mark in my latest book Indigo Legacy. When my character, widow Olivia Novack, spills her
insecurities to Woody, her fiancé, in a chapter titled The Conversation, the history of her former 32-year marriage comes
out. This glimpse of dialogue took an inordinate amount of time to get the exchange just right. I didn’t have to dig too deep within
myself to strike oil.
Here’s an excerpt:
“Adam was the only man I’d ever been
with, besides you,” Olivia said.
“Seriously?” Woody said.
She
threw him a sideways glance. “Okay,
let’s qualify that. A real relationship, not relations I had before Adam.
College doesn’t count.”
Woody
nodded. “An important technicality. Keep
going. Nothing you’ve said, so far, spooks me.”
“I made a terrible, unforgivable
mistake with Adam. The worst kind.”
“Did you have an affair?”
“God no. Worse.”
“What then?”
The
question hovered for a few seconds as Olivia’s chest tightened. “I took him for granted. Assumed he’d
always be there. We became a pair of old shoes, like the ones you keep around
because they were your favorites once. It had become solid-gold boredom. After
Adam died, I regretted every wasted day that I didn’t touch him, didn’t say
that I loved him, or didn’t whisper a sexy surprise in his ear.” She turned and
met the endless blue in Woody’s eyes. They were glass. “He didn’t do any of
those things for me, either. I was slowly starving to death, and I didn’t know
why. I would’ve thanked the stars if he’d ever come up behind me and nuzzled my
neck for no reason, turned off the stove and planted a kiss on me, held me just
because, or left me a note as a reminder that he loved me. But he didn’t. I was
so lonely in his company, and anything I tried ended up making me more
frustrated. You won’t waste any days, will you?”
“No, Liv, I won’t. I’m so sorry.”
“You asked for full disclosure, so
I’m giving it to you. Little gestures mean everything to keep a long-standing
marriage from disintegrating. I love it when your eyes tell me a secret from
across a room, one only we know between us. My emotional clock resets when you
grab my hand and say, ‘Let’s go.’ The cop and perp stuff we played in New York
was amazing. Almost like sex . . . almost.” She dabbed the outer corners of her
eyes. “I love you whether you do that stuff or not.” She glanced at him. “But
it would be better if we both promised to make the investment.”
Woody
pulled her forward to a hungry kiss. He ate her up like in a pie-eating
contest, and then pulled away. “I
take it back,” he said. “You are a romantic, and you’re doing a lousy job of
trying to talk me out of marriage.”
She
took his cue to lighten the mood. Deep-dish conversation required small spoons.
“Then here’s a request for you after
we’re married . . . ”
Woody
spread his hands. “Give
me all you’ve got.”
“No show-off burping. Guys do that.”
Olivia tried, without success, to not smirk. “And sports on TV can’t be an all-day affair.”
From
the glint in his eyes, the baton had been passed. “We have to watch the Olympics,
Liv—nonnegotiable—summer and
winter. I promise to burp super quietly only every two years.”
“Does that mean they’re loud the
rest of the time?”
“Not
around you.”
I love writing dialogue, the Yin and Yang unveils personal conflict and scrapiness. It's what characters say to each other - or to themselves - that touches my heart. And if I squeeze a balm of humor over the scene, it will all be okay. A huge revelation is delivered at the end of the above scene that sends the second half of the book into high gear. No spoilers.
And, yes, Olivia Novack
gets her second chance at love, along with all those little gestures of
affection she dreamed about . . . but I make her endure quite a bit of pain for
the reward.
Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Milwaukie, Oregon, with her husband. stepdaughter, and their brainiac cat, Princeton. Courtney writes for the baby boomer audience. By day, she is an executive in the entertainment industry and uses her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor and mystery. She has studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and She Writes. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.
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The Dushane sisters finally get to the truth about their mother.