Victoria Helen Stone's Blog, page 5

Jane Doe Featured on Buzzfeed!

Jane Doe was included on Buzzfeed’s 18 Underrated Books to Squeeze in As Soon As You Possibly Can!

“If you’re a woman, you need to read this book. It’s a story about a sociopath who loses the only person she’s ever loved, and the story of how she gets her revenge. This book has suspense, comedy, and a sweet romance element. It’s been a week since I read it and I still go back to rereading sections because this story sticks with you in a strange way.” 

I’m also thrilled to report that Jane Doe was reviewed in the Parkersburg News and Sentinel! “A woman makes herself into the perfect girlfriend for a man — so she can destroy him in “Jane Doe” by Victoria Helen Stone… A deliciously dark story with a chilling heroine, readers will enjoy seeing how far Jane will go for her revenge.”

Try Jane for yourself today!

JANE DOE is a Goodreads Semifinalist!

I can't believe it. JANE DOE is a WRITE-IN semifinalist in the Goodreads Choice Awards in the mystery/thriller category! Jane Doe

Huge thank-yous to all of you who wrote Jane in! I'm stunned. If anyone would like to vote for her (Pleeeeease?) you can vote here! https://www.goodreads.com/choiceaward...

Now I'm off to squee and dance. THANK YOU!

JANE DOE Giveaway

Amazon is giving away 100 Kindle copies of JANE DOE on GoodReads! Sign up for a chance to win before July 31, 2018!!!

JANE DOE comes out on August 1!

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/sh...

My Own Half Past

When I started thinking of my second Victoria Helen Stone book, I knew I wanted to write a family mystery, a story of secrets. I just didn’t know what the secret should be. I puzzled it over for a couple of weeks, and then I had a strange dream: I dreamed that my mother wasn’t my mother.

The dream felt so odd because my mom is the only parent I’ve ever known. My father left before I was born and I only met him once in my whole childhood. Lots of people don’t know their fathers. Lots of people don’t even know who their fathers are, because men can leave before fertilization even completes. But giving birth isn’t exactly a blink of an eye, so birth mother is generally a fairly secure title. I knew I had a great starting point.

That dream was the start of Half Past, but it wasn’t the inspiration. The inspiration comes from my own life. You see, my childhood was a seemingly endless series of halves. Half-siblings, half-families, half-pasts, and strange half-secrets, known by many and forgotten by more.

Me and my mom

I grew up in a family of four daughters. I’m the youngest. A whole houseful of women! But I’m also an only child, in terms of psychology. My sisters were five to ten years older, so I grew up differently than they did. I also had a different father as I was the only child of my mom’s second marriage.

I had a half-brother too, but he lived on his father’s farm. I did not know him at all. I had other half-siblings as well, my father’s children with his next wife. I heard about them but did not know them. They did not know about me. Another half family and another and another.

My first halloween with my sisters!

During the school year I lived in a crowded house with sisters I loved who helped raise me, but during the summer they went to live with their father, and I lived with my grandparents. We were sent to the same small town three hours from home, but we did not see each other there, not even on my birthday. We had separate families in homes about ten country miles apart. There were no other children nearby. It was just me on acres of land until the summer ended and I went back to my crowded half-family in the city. It only recently occurred to me how odd this all was.

I didn’t know my father, but I knew my paternal grandparents. I’d visit them and my grandpa would take me around town and introduce me to his friends, but when he died, I went to his funeral and no one knew who I was. I’d somehow become a secret baby despite that both my parents were from this small town of 2000 people. You could never write that in a book. It makes no sense. Who would believe it?

Me with half teeth

So the feeling of absolutely loving your family but never quite fitting in…that part of Half Past is all me. My sisters are nothing like the sisters in the book. And my mom and I get along fabulously. There’s not one goody-two-shoes in this whole damn bunch of women! We all have a ton of fun when we get together, I promise.

But I was always different from everyone I loved, if only due to outside forces. I was the only sister with no father and no brother, the only sister with a different last name, the only sister somehow born a secret bastard even though her parents were married. My siblings had uncles and aunts and cousins I’d never met. They visited them at Christmas. But my father was an only child. Half of my Christmas was quiet.

My childhood felt like half of everything except love, but the good news is that meant I could fill in the other parts myself. Perhaps that’s the wellspring of my storytelling. I know it’s why I’m interested in others’ lives. I see secrets everywhere. I want to know the complexity beneath the surface. For me, an unassuming stranger is just someone whose story I haven’t heard yet. If I never get to hear it, I can definitely make one up. But I’ve learned that whatever story I tell probably won’t be as interesting as the truth.

As always, thanks for reading!

Victoria

Try Half Past now!

Solitude in Big Sur: Research for Half Past

Half Past takes place in two main locations: a small town in rural Iowa and the coast of Big Sur.

I didn’t have to do any research on the first location. My family is from a tiny farming community in southern Minnesota. I only had to look up a couple of details to get that part right. My biggest disappointment was discovering that Red Owl grocery stores had gown out of business. Our local Red Owl played a big part in my childhood summers. I can still smell the maple doughnuts, and my grandma used to buy me these (now horrifying) drinks. Does this picture trigger nostalgia for anyone else?

But California was a whole other story. I’ve been to developed parts of California (Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco) and even a few secluded beaches (Half Moon Bay), but I’d never been anywhere wild. I knew the wild coasts of California were a whole other world, so I decided to do something I’ve always dreamed of. I decided to rent a cabin and explore someplace new all by myself. After all, this is my decade of trying new things.

The secluded beach Hannah finds in Half Past.

Big Sur was everything I wanted. As described in the book, it really was a sudden shift from expensive seaside communities to a completely untamed land. It was peaceful and beautiful and picture-perfect, but I had a deep sense of my own frailty while there. Humans haven’t conquered this place. We’ve barely managed to develop small strips of it.

A walk through the redwoods

The bed and breakfast I described in the book doesn’t exist (nor do the people who lived there in the 70’s) but the cabin is as real as I could make it. I stayed at a beautiful roadside resort called Glen Oaks. I can’t recommend it enough. Despite the other nearby cabins and rooms, I felt utterly alone in the best way as I sat next to my fire for hours, writing and drinking wine.

Fire pit, wine, and writing.

I spent five days in Big Sur, exploring redwood forests and rocky coasts. I waded into the cold water on a deserted beach and hiked up a hillside stream to see abandoned lime kilns. I slipped through a long tunnel through the cliffs to emerge directly above the surf where ships used to load freight. I stared into that deep water for nearly an hour.

Everything you’ve heard about the highway is true. Gorgeous and absolutely terrifying. And when I was alone in the trees, I felt truly alone, strong and centered and vulnerable.

I loved every minute of my research in Big Sur. I hope you enjoy the results in Half Past!

p.s. Since my visit, Big Sur has suffered flooding and mudslides that cut off huge parts of the coast. Though most areas are now reachable, the people who live and work there have suffered tremendously. To find out how to help, please visit Big Sur Relief Fund.

Solitude in Big Sur: Researching Half Past

My new book Half Past takes place in two main locations: a small town in rural Iowa and the coast of Big Sur.

I didn’t have to do any research on the first location. My family is from a tiny farming community in southern Minnesota. I only had to look up a couple of details to get that part right. My biggest disappointment was discovering that Red Owl grocery stores had gown out of business. Our local Red Owl played a big part in my childhood summers. I can still smell the maple doughnuts, and my grandma used to buy me these (now horrifying) drinks. Does this picture trigger nostalgia for anyone else?

But California was a whole other story. I’ve been to developed parts of California (Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco) and even a few secluded beaches (Half Moon Bay), but I’d never been anywhere wild. I knew the wild coasts of California were a whole other world, so I decided to do something I’ve always dreamed of. I decided to rent a cabin and explore someplace new all by myself. After all, this is my decade of trying new things.

The secluded beach Hannah finds in Half Past.

Big Sur was everything I wanted. As described in the book, it really was a sudden shift from expensive seaside communities to a completely untamed land. It was peaceful and beautiful and picture-perfect, but I had a deep sense of my own frailty while there. Humans haven’t conquered this place. We’ve barely managed to develop small strips of it.

My walk through the redwoods

The bed and breakfast I described in the book doesn’t exist (nor do the people who lived there in the 70’s) but the cabin is as real as I could make it. I stayed at a beautiful roadside resort called Glen Oaks. I can’t recommend it enough. Despite the other nearby cabins and rooms, I felt utterly alone in the best way as I sat next to my fire for hours, writing and drinking wine.

Fire pit, wine, and writing.

I spent five days in Big Sur, exploring redwood forests and rocky coasts. I waded into the cold water on a deserted beach and hiked up a hillside stream to see abandoned lime kilns. I slipped through a long tunnel through the cliffs to emerge directly above the surf where ships used to load freight. I stared into that deep water for nearly an hour.

Everything you’ve heard about the highway is true. Gorgeous and absolutely terrifying. And when I was alone in the trees, I felt truly alone, strong and centered and vulnerable.

I loved every minute of my research in Big Sur. I hope you enjoy the results in Half Past!

p.s. Since my visit, Big Sur has suffered flooding and mudslides that cut off huge parts of the coast. Though most areas are now reachable, the people who live and work there have suffered tremendously. To find out how to help, please visit Big Sur Relief Fund.

The Rarest of Birds: a domestic post!

I’m not the most domestically inclined person, but I can cook a few things, and sometimes I actually do. Every five to ten years, I mention this on Twitter and someone asks for the recipe of the thing I cooked. The thing is always in a crockpot. I’m ambitious around 1 PM. I am rarely ambitious after 5.

Tonight it is snowing here in the mountains, so I made Chicken Tortilla Soup for the very first time by taking the best bits from two recipes I found online.

So here is a recipe! Behold its wonder!

Slow Cooker Chicken Tortilla Soup 

(low carb depending on the toppings)

6 servings, I think

1 1/2 to 2 pounds boneless chicken (I used thighs)
32 ounces chicken broth
1 medium onion, diced
1 orange or yellow bell pepper diced
4-ounce can of chopped green chile peppers
14 ounce can of diced tomatoes (I used only half)
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 cup frozen corn (I substituted 1 small zucchini, cubed)
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp salt (I added way more than this. Probably 2 tsp.)
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp paprika
1/2 to 1 tsp cumin

Throw everything in the slow cooker! Cook on high for 4 hours or low for 7 hours. 15 minutes before it’s done, shred the chicken and adjust salt and spices. MOAR SPICE. Maybe squeeze in a little lime.

Serve with any or all of these toppings:

tortilla strips (I wish)
shredded cheese
avocado slices
hot sauce
chopped cilantro
fresh lime slice
sour cream

Hope you like it! This will be soooooo good the next time I have a cold.

HALF PAST is out now!

Half Past is now available in Kindle, print, or audiobook!

“A captivating, suspenseful tale of love and lies, mystery and self-discovery, Half Past kept me flipping the pages through the final, startling twist.” —A. J. Banner, #1 Amazon and USA Today bestselling author of The Good Neighbor and The Twilight Wife

Hannah has always felt like a stranger in her own home. She’s about to find out why.

At forty-five, Hannah Smith is at a crossroads. That’s her spin on it. The reality is she’s divorced, jobless, and moving back to her family home in Iowa to keep an eye on her mother, who’s slipping into dementia.

Her return stirs up the same unnerving sense of disconnect Hannah has felt since childhood—always the odd girl out, the loner outshone by her two older sisters. Hannah knew the feelings of hurt would come back. But she never expected fear. Because when her mother looks into her eyes and whispers, “You’re not my daughter,” Hannah is beginning to believe it’s not just the rambling of a confused woman.

It’s the truth.

Now Hannah’s following the trail of a family mystery to the dark coast of Big Sur, where years ago a lie was born—and buried. As frightened as she is to unearth it, Hannah knows this is the last chance she has before her past—and all its terrible secrets—are lost forever.

Order today!

Kindle | Print | Audio

Heading to Higher Ground

I’ve talked a little about turning forty (Coming of Age) and learning to face my fears (Cutting a New Path). Most of those fears were intangible: fear of public speaking, fear of failure, fear of the unknown. But one fear was pure animal instinct: don’t put your life at risk!

I always thought I was afraid of heights. But then I met people with a genuine phobia, unable to even stand next to a high window, and I realized what I really had was a healthy respect for heights. I could function, I was just a little wary.

When I started plotting a book called Taking the Heat, I wanted my librarian hero to have an outdoorsy hobby and I chose rock climbing. I started researching rock climbing terms and practices, just as I would any activity or profession I was unfamiliar with. Then I looked up from my computer and out  my window and realized, “Hey, I live in the mountains. People travel here to go rock climbing. I could just DO IT.”

My view of Storm Mountain from the side of a cliff.

Now, I’m no athlete. (Please see my jogging story in Coming of Age.) And I have no upper body strength. My arms get tired just drying my hair sometimes. But I was high on newfound confidence and general badassery, so I planned for about a month, made an appointment with an expert guide, and started doing a few strength exercises for my upper body.

When the big day arrived, I thought my guide would take me up about twenty feet, so I could learn the process and equipment well enough to write it. I was wrong. The picture to the right was our first stop on the climb. I was resting on a two-foot ledge. The bushes you see below are actually full-grown cottonwood trees. I can’t repeat the caption that originally accompanied this picture, but be assured there was an F-bomb included.

My view looking up at my guide.

At this point in the climb, I was regretting everything and vowing to never be brave again in my life. The first thirty feet were not bad. I was concentrating so hard on each foothold and just staring at the rock right in front of my face. But when we cleared the trees, it got real. This was not a rock wall in a gym. This was life and death and violently shaking muscles.

Just after this resting point, we got to an area of smooth rock (click on this pic for a larger view). My guide waited patiently, telling me I would figure out the way to work around it. He called down instructions and told me to take as much time as I needed. I think I just held on and quietly panicked for about fifteen minutes before my mind cleared enough to help me through it. I vividly remember the exact same feeling I get when I near the top of a hill on a roller coaster. Why did I do this, I don’t want to be here, I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!

Trying to get out of this situation.

At some point I decided I either had to climb up or live there forever, and I eased over to the side of this smooth face and found a few cracks I could grasp.

My guide did not explain until later that he could lower me down at any point if I froze up. But I didn’t freeze up. “You seemed like a natural,” he said. I was not a natural. But I finished the climb.

We climbed a little over one hundred feet. I finished it. I was so happy to get to the top and be done that I willingly leaned my body over the side of that cliff and let it fall, just so I could get back down to solid ground. This last pic captures my overwhelming joy to be rappelling down to safety.

Rappelling down!

And it was joy. Pure joy and relief and pride.

Once the adrenaline wore off, I felt like I’d been in a car accident. I was shaking and bruised, my legs were beat to hell by sharp rocks, but I have never been more proud of anything in my life. I did it. I really effing did it.

My first stop on the way home was to buy a bottle of vodka. My second stop was for an ice cream cone. Both were absolutely necessary.

You can see the results of my research in the rock climbing scenes in Taking the Heat. But you can also see the results of this research in Evelyn, After and Half Past. During this climb, I realized I was strong. I learned I could be resilient in the face of true fear. And that knowledge helped me take on a new writing challenge in a new genre as Victoria Helen Stone.

It was a transformative, amazing day. And no, I have never, ever climbed up the side of a mountain again.

Cutting a New Path

So after writing nearly thirty romances, why did I want to write something different? Well, I didn’t. I never even thought about it.

But then a former editor asked me to write something for her. Something that wasn’t romance, because she wasn’t publishing romance. She’d asked me before and I’d said no. I said no again. But this time we were sitting at a table together and she pressed the issue. I squirmed. I told her I didn’t have any ideas for something like that. She insisted I did.

I kept saying no. But by the time I walked away, I was turning the idea around in my head. What subject would fascinate me enough to keep my interest for 6-12 months? That’s the thing about writing a book. I read lots of different genres. I love horror, romance, historical fiction, narrative non-fiction, thrillers, suspense. But spending a few days reading a book is not the same as spending months writing one story. You have to really want that book. You have to feel it in your bones. I didn’t think I had the bones for anything except romance, but now I was wondering. Now I was plotting.

I knew any story I’d dedicate myself to would have to be female driven. I knew it would have to be dark and complicated. And I knew it would still include sex, if not romance, because that drive is part of any deep dive into someone’s character. (I often say horror & romance are two sides of the same coin: our basic, primal urge to live.)

After brainstorming for a few days, I told my agent I maybe, possibly MIGHT have an idea. She contacted my former editor. The idea wasn’t quite right. I brainstormed again. And this time, the idea caught. We went back and forth a few times. Tweaked some details. And then my editor made an offer for a book unlike anything I’d written before.

And I was terrified. In fact, my editor made a two-book offer and I wanted to negotiate down to one. What if I only had this one idea inside me? This is not how negotiations work. My agent told me to woman up.

So I signed the contract. And I wrote the book. I did it! I wrote Evelyn, After! And once I told my fear to sod off, I had a great time with this story. The best time I’d had in years. I got to write a protagonist who did truly bad things. I got to write a romance that didn’t work out. I got to write the depths of heartbreak and recovery. I loved it. And before I was done, I had an idea for another book. I HAD ANOTHER IDEA!

That second idea was Half Past. It comes out September 19th. Any my third idea is called Jane Doe and comes out next May. (My third idea!) Right now I’m trying to brainstorm a fourth book and facing a tiny little fear that I won’t think of anything. But I know I will. That doubt is just a fading memory of what it used to be.

When I was nearing forty, I started facing my fears and trying new things. At forty-five, I’ve realized that staying afraid takes way too much energy. More energy than I have these days. I haven’t walked away from romance but I am relishing trying something new and terrifying. It’s exciting and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. In fact, maybe it’s another of those primal urges to live.

Next up: That time I tried rock climbing.