Author: Gina Wilkins

A couple of years ago, a Harlequin editor I’d worked with on several projects in the past gave me a call. “What do you know about NASCAR?” she asked. Without hesitation, I replied, “I can tell you the top twelve drivers in points this season. What else do you need to know?” “You just answered my question,” she said with a laugh.

She explained that Harlequin and NASCAR were collaborating on a series of romances set in the world of stock car racing, and she asked if I would like to participate. It sounded like fun, so I signed up. I spent the next few months immersed in research. I read Mark Martin’s NASCAR FOR DUMMIES and Jeff Hammonds’ REAL MEN WORK IN THE PITS, among other biographies and behind-the-scenes books. Another book I can highly recommend is SUNDAY MONEY by Jeff McGregor. It’s a funny, on-the-road account of a year the author and his wife, neither overly familiar with the sport, followed the NASCAR circuit in an RV. Although I was a fan, I had never attended a NASCAR race and I wanted to make sure I did all I could to make my writing authentic.

The highlight of my research was a trip to Lowe’s Motor Speedway in North Carolina with my editor and four other NASCAR writers. We were taken on a tour of the Rousch Racing headquarters and of the track during a practice session. Both tours were fascinating. It was so exciting to walk through the fab shop and explore inside Carl Edwards’ hauler. And the track was eye-opening — or should I say, ear-splitting. You really can’t imagine how loud those cars are until you’re standing at the track with those huge, hungry engines screaming around you. Almost the first thing I saw upon arrival was a car hit the wall, so I heard that nervewracking noise, as well. Fortunately, no one was hurt. I saw the rows of haulers with famous faces milling among them, the frantically busy garages, the intense concentration focused on every detail of the cars’ and drivers’ performances. It really brought to life what I’d seen on my TV screen every Sunday.

Continue reading “Fast cars and romance” →

Yes, I know it’s almost Halloween, but it seems more like Christmas at my house lately. I’m working on a story for a 2009 Harlequin NASCAR Christmas anthology, and my husband, a gifted woodturner, has been making Christmas ornaments. I keep forgetting what month it really is! By the time Christmas actually arrives, I’ll have moved on. My next book, the first of a new Silhouette Special Edition series about a group of harried medical students, begins in the fall, so I’ll be moving back a season. Is it any wonder I sometimes lose track of time?

Getting lost in a story is an occupational hazard for writers. I could be working on a Thanksgiving story in June, or a steamy summer tale in February. To set the mood for my writing, I use music … for example, I’ve been listening to Christmas songs while working on this story. All I have to do is slip on my headphones and let Bing Crosby start crooning in my ear, and it isn’t October anymore. It’s December, and my racecar driver hero is wearing a Santa suit while he tries to charm a skittish single mom.

Music has always been an integral part of my life, and my writing process. Though I only dream of having a beautiful singing voice or a talent for playing an instrument, there is almost never a time when I don’t have music playing around me. When I recently bought an external hard drive to make sure I didn’t lose anything of importance on my computer, I actually backed up my extensive music library before I backed up my works in progress!

I spend way too much time (and money, 99 cents at a time) at iTunes, downloading songs for my book “soundtracks.” When I wrote a couple of ghost stories for Temptation several years ago, I played the soundtrack to the movie “Somewhere in Time” over and over. It just seemed to fit. Another book featured a couple who enjoyed ballroom dancing, so I played the Reader’s Digest CDs of standard piano tunes while I wrote their dance scenes. Each book has a playlist that evokes a mood for me, and most of those lists would make no sense at all to anyone else. I might have Rod Stewart’s standards and some tunes from the ’80s mixed in with Linkin Park and Death Cab for Cutie, all on one playlist. The juxtaposition of those particular songs have meaning to me within the story I’m writing. Strange, I know — but then writers tend to be a little … let’s just say “quirky.”

The writing process is different for almost every writer. I know a few who can write only in total silence. Others who can’t listen to anything with lyrics while they write. Still others who listen only to classical or period pieces. But whenever the subject comes up among my writing friends, as it often does, it seems that most use music in some way or another to set a specific mood for their writing, as I do. I’ve had lots of musical recommendations from writer friends (necessitating even more 99 cent shopping sprees).

Now, it’s time for me to slip on my headphones again. Frank Sinatra is waiting to wish me a “merry little Christmas” while I find out exactly how this dashing racecar driver can convince a wary single mom that he is just what she wants to find beneath her Christmas tree. When this story is finished, I’ll start assembling a soundtrack for my next book (I already suspect The Fray’s “How to Save a Life” will be on the list).

I woke up grumpy today. I’d spent the past three days helping my dad dispose of the last of my mother’s things as he prepares to move out of the house he shared with her for thirty years, and which he sold earlier this month. It was a difficult task, in many ways. We foolishly decided with just over a week’s notice to hold a moving sale. He and my sister-in-law and I gathered everything throughout the house that hadn’t already been claimed by offspring or grandchildren and arranged it on tables in the front two rooms of the house. There was a lot of “stuff.” My mother was sentimental, and kept everything anyone ever gave her, which included a lot of trinkets and angels and glassware and figurines. She was also a collector of inexpensive souvenirs from trips she took with her sisters and her friends. Little bells and spoons and mugs and shot glasses. None of which were particularly valuable, but all of which were valuable to her. Literally hundreds of items that we set out for display, then plastered with little yellow price tags on which we tried to determine the value of her treasures. Daddy had already moved out the beds, except for the one he slept in, so I spent two nights on a love seat — not exactly comfortable sleeping arrangements.

Our sale was less than successful, considering all the work we put into it. Their house is in town, but off the main roads, so gets little drive-by traffic. Because we had little notice to plan the sale, we were too late to do much advertising. And it was the first weekend of deer season — a big deal in Arkansas. The event was emotional for those who knew my mom. Family members and friends dropped by, some of whom had not visited the house since she died of cancer in August of last year at a still-vital and active 75 years old. More than a few burst into tears when they entered, which certainly didn’t help me. By the end of the second day of the sale, even after we gave away mementos to those sentimental family members and friends, there were still dozens of little items sitting on the tables. My son and I boxed up everything to take to local charities. It was difficult for me to part with the things, because they had all belonged to my mother, but I couldn’t keep it all. I have enough “stuff” of my own, and I had already brought home those possessions of my mom’s that had the most sentimental value to me. So by the end of the day yesterday, I was exhausted, sore and emotionally drained — as was my poor dad.

Continue reading “Sonic joy” →

Occasionally, when I tell someone what I write, the question I am asked is, “Why did you choose to write romances?” I’ve even been asked, once or twice, when I was going to write a “real” book.

I learned a long time ago not to be defensive about romance novels. I understand that tastes vary, though I’ve often found that the harshest critics of romance novels have never actually read any. So, rather than saying that I’ve written over 90 “real” books, I explain that I love writing romance because I believe it is a topic that appeals to a broad range of readers. Everyone can identify with that need to find a soul mate. A safe place to call home. I’ve written family sagas and ghost tales and mysteries and suspense — but within each book is the story of two people who find each other, overcome the obstacles that try to keep them apart, and commit to a lifelong partnership. They understand that there will be challenges and trials ahead for them, and that their relationships won’t always be roses and fairy tales — but they are willing to work hard to make their marriages last, because they have found something together worth fighting for.

I’ve met with my share of cynicism during my career. Why would I write about the search for a soul mate, I am asked, when so many marriages end in divorce? Well, because I’ve seen so many shining examples of marriages that last for lifetimes. My grandparents. Great-aunts and uncles, aunts and uncles, in-laws and family friends. A few had earlier marriages that did not work out, but were fortunate enough to find each other later and thrive in their second attempts.

My parents were married 54 years before my beloved mother’s death last year from pancreatic cancer. My dad still misses her terribly. John and I have been married 31 years — and counting. We married young, right out of college, and we’ve seen our share of the challenges of keeping a marriage strong in difficult times. I make no claims that it has always been easy, but it has been worth the effort. We’ve raised three wonderful children, one of whom is now a year and a half into her own marriage.

So, the search for a partner — for a family — will always be a part of the stories I tell, no matter whether they’re classified as “romance” or “suspense” — a new direction I am pursuing because I have some slightly different ideas I want to explore. It’s so much a part of who I am, and from where I have come.

Continue reading “Why not romance?” →

When I was a child and the world around me became too noisy or overwhelming, I would escape to a quiet corner with a beloved book. Because I had three younger brothers and we lived in a small, three-bedroom, one-bath home, there were many times I craved that quiet escape. One of my cousins (hi, Mickey!) still fusses at me because of all those times as kids when she wanted to play and all I wanted to do was curl up somewhere with a book.

One of my earliest memories is sitting in the floor in my grandmother’s house with an open book in front of me. I couldn’t read yet, but I stared hard at the symbols on that page, convinced that if I could just figure out what they said, I would be engrossed in the most amazing story. Even then, I thought of books as wonderful adventures, perhaps because my mother was an avid reader who shared her love of books with me. By the time I was five, whenever anyone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was, “A writer.”

I still escape into stories (either my own or my many favorite authors) whenever I get the chance. I’ve been fortunate enough to make my living as a writer since the mid 1980s. I know how blessed I am to have a long, successful marriage, three amazing children, and the career I have wanted almost all my life.

I am also a champion procrastinator. Several years ago, I realized I needed a website. I started looking at other writers’ sites and I was awed at what I found — music and animation and glitter and flashy things! So much to see, so many decisions to make, so many options from which to choose. Overwhelmed, I crawled into my quiet place with my books and my imagination and decided I’d get back to that later …

After looking around again during the past months, I’ve concluded that this is where I want to be for now. A quiet, not very flashy corner to share with fellow lovers of books and romance, with my long-time readers and, I hope, with my future readers. Here, I’ll talk about my upcoming books and works in progress, about my life as a writer and lifelong reader. It’s a way of connecting with all of you who also need an occasional quiet retreat in an increasingly stressful world.  I hope you will visit me here again soon.