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A little bump
is about to cause a lot of ripples
The story
behind Storms in a Shot Glass came to me during a chat with one of my friends.
I was complaining about my kids, and my friend said kids really knew how to brew
a tempest in a teacup. That was still not appropriate in my opinion, and I
replied, “More like they can stir up a storm in a shot glass!”
The words
stayed with me for many days. I kept thinking, “This would make a great book
title...” From this point on, I was like, “What story could I tag with this?”
The answer
seemed obvious – the story needed a child in it. Now, stories with children
have been done and overdone. I had myself penned down stories where children
were strongly featured (Light My World & Calling Home). It got me further
into thinking, and then the light bulb moment came – what’s the one thing that
involves a child but has the biggest impact on a woman? Pregnancy. So there I
had it - the story would be about a pregnancy.
Entered the
brainstorming and characterization stage. Pregnancy and maximum impact =
unplanned, accidental, unexpected. The more unexpected, the better! Now who
would be more affected by such news? Obvious – a woman whose life resembled the
inside of a shot glass since there is no room to move in there. It would be
nice to brew a storm in such closed confines. Pitch her against a hero who
would stir up even more havoc, and I had my game plan.
Jane Smithers
came to life this way. A quiet, self-effacing girl whose life was akin to a
shot glass. Simply no room for anything. Who’d be the man who would tip the
scales, then? Enter Michael Rinaldi.
There’s
something about the name Michael that has most women swooning. Don’t ask me
what it is, I have no idea; yet, I know it’s a fact. Rinaldi is a name I always
wanted to use, so there he got paired with that name. Had to give him an
Italian lineage, too, and I did. I now needed a twist – and the question that
popped up: “Who is Michael?” The baby’s father? Or is he someone Jane has never
met before?
The second
option sounded more tempting, and I went with it. How does she meet him, then?
Bridging the gap, that’s when Michael’s Italian ancestry came into play – his
father will be Jane’s boss. But, a big ‘but’ here, the father and son are
estranged!
I’m sure you can
now see how much a game of “Let’s make things more complicated for these two!”
the drafting of this story turned out to be! Originally, the story started
strictly through Jane’s POV, in a twist on the chick-lit. But Michael was too
strong a hero (yes, an overbearing, charismatic, and
utterly-charming-when-he-wants-to Italian!). He, too, wanted his say, and the
hero has no say in the chick-lit, right? Swift turn, and the story became a
contemporary romance where both protagonists would get the equal spotlight.
I started
actively writing then, and I think this book will remain as one of the stories
I had most fun with. The need to complicate matters runs throughout the plot,
and it was a joyride all the way!
But it wasn’t
simply about fun – it was also about stronger, deeper issues. What’s a woman to
do when faced with an unexpected pregnancy? How does she come to grips with the
need to become a single parent? What impact will this unborn child have on her
life?
This also brought
forth the notion that more and more women nowadays prefer to bring up their
child alone. What’s the role of the father in there? What even defines a father
nowadays? Can a man love another man’s child as his own? How does this whole
situation affect him?
Jane and
Michael face those issues in the story, and against a barrage of complications
that Fate keeps sending their way, how will they find their footing in the
shifting sands of their changing reality? When you are resolutely modern and
are going about your life in cosmopolitan London, how do you adjust to
unexpected changes that will completely annihilate the life you’ve known till
now?
Find out when
you grab a copy of Storms in a Shot Glass and join this merry, eventful ride
with Jane, Michael, and their crazy entourage of quirky friends and families.
From
Mauritius with love,
Zee
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