INSPIRATION COMES IN LITTLE THINGS

I frequently get asked where I get my ideas for my books or what inspires me. The truth is, many times I don’t know. It might be a line of poetry, or a story in the news, or a song lyric. Or it might be a memory that suddenly resurfaces. When I first came up with the idea for The Cadence of Gypsies, Book 1 in The F.I.G. Mysteries, it was from a memory I had of an orphanage I would drive by each morning on my way to class at N.C. State University in Raleigh, and I remember being curious about the children who lived there. Many years later, after writing several other novels, I came across an article about the Voynich Manuscript, the “most mysterious manuscript in the world,” and somehow I connected that information with the orphanage. This eventually led to a five-book series.
In my latest release, Shyla’s Initiative, memories from when I lived in Florida started showing up unexpectedly; in particular, the experience I had when trying to sell my home before moving to Georgia. The housing market was non-existent at that time, and someone told me to visit a botanica and ask for a statue of St. Joseph. The proprietor at the botanica would give me instructions on how to use it. The result was, I sold my house the day after I bought the statue. The memory of that experience, and my reaction to the botanica itself when I first visited it, stayed with me and laid the foundation for Shyla’s Initiative.

Jen, thank you so much for hosting me and for your interest in Shyla’s Initiative. I wish you and your readers my best. ~Barbara

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Excerpt:

Shyla noticed that there had also been a change in Carl’s attitude and temperament as well as her own. Before they were married, they had been able to talk about everything, the good as well as the bad. Nothing was unfixable because the two of them were pulling together toward the same goal. Now she had the feeling Carl was keeping things from her, turning to his mother instead. It was making her defensive and suspicious. The intimacy they had shared in the beginning of their relationship wasn’t as strong now, if it was there at all. Carl still said and did the same things. He frequently told her how much he loved her, and he usually did little things around the house like help vacuum or do the dishes. He was wonderful at fixing things when they got broken as well. But he seemed impatient; he became irritated easily. She felt a distance—an awkwardness—between them now that hadn’t been there before, and it made her uncomfortable and jittery. It were as though she was being snatched from her own life and forced to live another. Somehow each of the many defining layers that she had carefully nurtured and added over the years to complete her identity at this point in her life were gradually being stripped away and sacrificed, one by one, just like the petals from a flower. The person who was left had headaches and anxiety. The person who was left, she didn’t even recognize.
She remembered reading once that when someone is faced with a sudden loss of a loved one, the overwhelming feeling is that of helplessness and isolation. She had felt that way when her first husband died of a heart attack. One moment he was healthy and vibrant; the next, he was dead. For months after his death Shyla existed in a state of semi-conscious numbness—seeing and hearing and even responding to everything going on around her, but feeling nothing. That was what was happening now, only she was the one who had died. She didn’t want to feel this way or to be left out; she had too much to give. After all, the reason for getting married in the first place was because she and Carl loved each other and wanted to share as much together as possible. But this feeling of secrecy and separation and the constant demands from the outside on her time and energy was beginning to take its toll on her health and her marriage.
She knew that her resentment toward her mother-in-law was building because of Pilar’s unrelenting requests of Carl. The woman didn’t seem to understand or care that she and Carl might want time for themselves. Shyla tried hard to suppress those feelings, though. After all, Pilar was Carl’s mother. They had only just reunited a few months earlier after being estranged for years. Shyla could see how Pilar would want to spend as much time as possible with her son. What bothered Shyla, though, was that she seemed to want to relive the past, without Shyla, and to pick up where she and her son had left off as though nothing had changed. But things were changed. For one thing, Carl was now married to Shyla.
As a writer, it was natural for Shyla to keep things inside of her, avoiding conflict except when she expressed it on paper. She would keep this inside of her and deal with it the best she could. What she couldn’t suppress, however, were the headaches which were frequently followed by severe anxiety. Out of everything, the one thing that frightened her the most was the feeling she was losing control. Always before she had a plan on how to move forward, no matter how bad things were—even when her first husband died. Now she felt frustrated and weak. She couldn’t make decisions and her energy had plummeted. Looking back she realized she had been struggling with this for over six months, and still she was losing control.
The worst part of it was feeling that somehow in losing control over her life, she had also lost her ability to write. She was convinced of it. Just as she would start to work on an idea for a new short story or perhaps the outline of a novel, something would come up—another visiting relative, more errands to run, another meal to cook, and more bills to pay. There were always more bills. It felt as though a door had been slammed inside of her, and behind that door just beyond her reach was her creativity. She would go through the same routine each morning, getting Carl off to work, the breakfast dishes done, beds made, house straightened, and then go upstairs to her office. When before she would crank out at least fifteen hundred words a day with regularity, now she would sit in front of her computer and stare at the blank screen until the worry of having to run errands or cook dinner took over. She hated it. And she couldn’t blame anyone but herself. That was one of the reasons why she had insisted on going to Naples and teaching the class at Ibis. It was the annual summer retreat, and maybe by being around other writers again she could somehow unlock that door. It would be good to see her friend, Jayne Sinclaire, again as well. It had been much too long.

About the Author

Originally from Kane, Illinois, author/agent/publisher Barbara Casey attended the University of North Carolina, N.C. State University, and N.C. Wesleyan College where she received a BA degree, summa cum laude, with a double major in English and history. In 1978 she left her position as Director of Public Relations and Vice President of Development at North Carolina Wesleyan College to write full time and develop her own manuscript evaluation and editorial service. In 1995 she established the Barbara Casey Agency and since that time has represented authors from the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and Japan. In 2014, she became a partner with Strategic Media Books, an independent nonfiction publisher of true crime, where she oversees acquisitions, day-to-day operations, and book production.
Ms. Casey has written close to two dozen award-winning books of fiction and nonfiction for both young adults and adults. The awards include the National Association of University Women Literary Award, the Sir Walter Raleigh Literary Award, the Independent Publisher Book Award, the Dana Award for Outstanding Novel, the IPPY Best Book for Regional Fiction, the Book Excellence Award, among others. Several of her books have been optioned for major films.
Her award-winning articles, short stories, and poetry for adults have appeared in both national and international publications including the North Carolina Christian Advocate Magazine, The New East Magazine, the Raleigh (N.C.) News and Observer, the Rocky Mount (N.C.) Sunday Telegram, Dog Fancy, ByLine, The Christian Record, Skirt! Magazine, and True Story. A thirty-minute television special which Ms. Casey wrote and coordinated was broadcast on WRAL, Channel 5, in Raleigh, North Carolina. She also received special recognition for her editorial work on the English translations of Albanian children’s stories. Her award-winning science fiction short stories for adults are featured in The Cosmic Unicorn and CrossTime science fiction anthologies. Ms. Casey’s essays and other works appear in The Chrysalis Reader, the international literary journal of the Swedenborg Foundation, 221 One-Minute Monologues from Literature (Smith and Kraus Publishers), and A Cup of Comfort (Adams Media Corporation).
Ms. Casey is a former director of BookFest of the Palm Beaches, Florida, where she served as guest author and panelist. She has served as judge for the Pathfinder Literary Awards in Palm Beach and Martin Counties, Florida, and was the Florida Regional Advisor for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators from 1991 through 2003. In 2018 Ms. Casey received the prestigious Albert Nelson Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award and Top Professional Award for her extensive experience and notable accomplishments in the field of publishing and other areas. She makes her home on the top of a mountain in northwest Georgia with three cats who adopted her: Homer, Reese, and Earl Gray – Reese’s best friend.

Please follow the tour and leave comments, as they are always appreciated. Good Luck & Thank you for stopping by have a blessed day.


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