But I didn’t come up with that story.
It just poured out.
Most of the time, when I was done writing for the night, I would just stop and look at it and think… what the fuck? Like how did these people get so real? How did these places get so real I can see them in my head like I’ve been there?
But you can’t think about it for very long because you will never get that answer. People think Julie, it’s just you, bitch. Your mind did that.
OK. It did. Because that’s the logical explanation.
But creation isn’t logical. It just isn’t.
It’s the same way for the Company. If someone asks me about a scene from one of my books, I immediately picture the place where it happened. Every word I write takes place somewhere. And I can tell you what the temperature was outside that day. I can tell you what furniture was in the room. I know the road they were traveling. I see it all in my head.
So all this Company stuff? I didn’t really write this story, it just came out and this is what we got.
I came up with the characters. I came up with their names, their jobs, the kind of car they drive. But none of these books were what I set out to do when I wrote Tragic.
I never once said, “I think I’ll write books about assassins who work for a global shadow government and want to take it down from the inside.” That thought never happened.
What really happened was that I said, “I want to write about a little girl who kills people.”
And twenty-seven books later, this is literally where we ended up.
People who don’t write probably think this whole “muse” thing is a joke. Or it’s just... some weird part of our imaginations. Creative people are overly dramatic and moody, right? We’re difficult. We love the spotlight or we are reclused.
But the muse is a real thing for artists, and writers, and other creators. There is a “zone” out there filled with ideas, and stories, and visions. It’s like a river. Constantly flowing. And we creative people, we just reach into that current and pluck things out.
And then we put it into our work.
It’s mine, I guess. I’m the one who plucked it. I’m the one who rescued it from the endless river of stories. But did I come up with it?
There are lots of days when I think… not really.
You can believe it or not, but this is how it happens.
Most of these stories… I didn’t plot this shit, OK? I just didn’t. I sat down, reached into the river, plucked out what I could, and I put it down on paper.
When I write a book it’s like a movie in my head and I’m just an observer.
Which leads me to this really intriguing thought exercise – what happens to the deleted words and scenes?
I’ll tell you what happens - it fucks with my spatial awareness inside the story, that’s what happens. What do I mean by that? I mean… I have already pictured that scene. I have already been in that space, as that character. I have already lived it. (so to speak).
So if I delete words, I’m deleting parts of the character’s life. I’m deleting part of their world.
It probably sounds a bit crazy, but that’s how it feels. I have to wipe my mind of that scene and start imagining it all over again. Which is not that easy to do, so I don’t do it often.
And this brings me to my point, I guess.
My fans are awesome but not every reader is a fan. So I got some comments about how long it took me to write the last two books in this series.
But here’s why it took so long: I started Gorgeous Misery at least seven times. I got as far as forty-five thousand words one of those times. And I threw them all out. I have seven folders called Gorgeous Misery on various computers. All with different variations of file names.
And the characters and the story, and the places in those drafts, they were all part of the story. And then they got deleted and they weren’t.
So that really fucked with me.
And then, we have Nick Tate.
Nick. Fucking. Tate.
I love him. He’s definitely one of my favorites. But at this point in time—chapter one of Gorgeous Misery—I have to account for TWENTY YEARS OF HIS LIFE, people.
Talk about a challenge.
I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted you to have all the stories. I wanted you to live all those days with Lauren with me. I wanted to take you on every job he did with Wendy. I wanted to tell you every word.
But that’s not a story. That’s barfing words.
So I had to choose. Which parts need to be told to get through the fourth book.
And after seven drafts, and throwing out nearly seventy-five thousand words, this is where we landed.
This is Nick Tate’s bizarre love story.
And it’s a lot of things, but normal isn’t one of them.
But what did you expect?
It’s Nick Tate.
While I was writing this story I was, of course, thinking a lot about Merc. And that story—Meet Me in the Dark—how necessary it was. How you had to have Sydney’s story before you could ever begin to understand what kind of people we’re dealing with.
Meet Me in the Dark is my darkest book. And I never went that dark again—Not even Sick Heart is as dark at Meet Me in the Dark.
But it was necessary.
That’s how I feel about Gorgeous Misery. It’s not hearts and flowers, but it’s necessary. And it is a love story. It’s a love story about a man who just want to save his girl.
That’s it.
That’s all it is.
All the other stuff plays out in Lovely Darkness.
And I promise, when you get to the last page… it all falls into place.
Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and I’ll see you in the next book.
Julie
December 13, 2021
P.S. – After I wrote this, I was like… didn’t I make notes about what I wanted to say in this EOBS? Of course, I did. And none of this crazy shit was on that list, Julie!
So I went and looked, and yeah. ALL of this crazy shit was on my list. :)
See! Up in the head, people. Up in the head.
:)
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Sometimes I wish it was just him and me.
Sometimes I wish there never was an Indie or a Donovan. That McKay and I just ran away together when we were young. Sailed around the world. Climbed mountains. Learned to parachute. Did whatever we wanted and never thought about this place, or the Company and our place in it, ever again.
Sometimes I wish we were broke, and uncomfortable, and stressed out about things like rent, and food, and bald tires.
I wish we had done it differently.
I wish I had listened to Gerald.
I wish I wasn’t thirty-seven years old, filled up to my neck and choking on regrets.
Lovely Darkness is about love, and regrets, and accepting the truth—even if it breaks you.
It is the last book in the dark romantic thriller series, Creeping Beautiful, and must be read in order.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JA Huss is the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today Bestseller's list 21 times in the past five years. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.