Hello blog friends! I’m back from the deep, dark writing cave. Yesterday morning I finished my first draft of Aftershock (HQN, 2013). Yay! I’m going to give it a short rest before I do another read-through, polish, line edit etc. It’s due in about two weeks.

Although I always feel pressure to submit quality work, this manuscript challenged me. I blogged about my struggles with Shark Island (now Stranded With Her Ex), a book that I rewrote several times. For this project, it wasn’t the subject matter or characters or claustrophobic setting, but the time frame and circumstances that added to my stress. I had just over three months to complete it. I often mull over plot lines and do research for years before tackling a project. For Aftershock, I had a seed of an idea (one of my Harlequin editors said “I’d like to read an earthquake book” on twitter), developed a synopsis over a weekend, and got a very quick response –YES. Write THAT.

What’s the problem, you say? I have a contract, and an editor clamoring for my work. This is fantastic. Let me make it clear that the pressure I feel is not from outside sources. It comes from within.

I’ve worked with my Harlequin editor on category novels, but this is our first single-title project for HQN. Category novels sell on brand recognition; single titles on author recognition. With HQN I’ve been given an opportunity that few authors in my position get in this business climate. Romantic suspense isn’t doing as well as some other subgenres. I haven’t “broken out.” I need to gain more readers to stay with a NY publisher. I need to deliver an excellent product.

Gosh, I’m frothing myself up again. Breathe, Jill. Whew.

Okay, so I felt like I had to write a book that was twice as good in half the time. No problem, right? Hahaha…*cries*. About three weeks ago, I realized that I needed to hurry up. Plenty of authors on twitter write 3-5k per day (jerks). Normally I do about 1k. Some tweet about 10k days! WTF? I challenged myself to 2k per day with a January deadline.

The same week, I received my 2-book contract from HQN. They want another adventure/disaster type story for book 2. I hadn’t anticipated this, although I should have. I started panicking about book 2 while frantically trying to finish book 1.

I couldn’t sleep. I took Tylenol PM. It worked one night, but not others. I exercised like a maniac, trying to exhaust myself. I was manic and tense and emotional. I yelled at my children. I wouldn’t let my husband touch me. I said that I wanted to die, even though it wasn’t true.

It was fucking horrible.

Look, I’m a mother. I know about sleepless nights. I’ve had sleepless years! I mean, 4-5 hours a night for weeks or months at a time, while nursing a sick or newborn baby. This reminded me of those dark moments (I’m not exaggerating, caring for a newborn can be hell) except that I also had to work and…think hard. Do I sound like a wuss? I’ve only worked part-time up until now. Finding a balance between career and parenting has always been important to me. I try to give 100% in both areas. Working moms, fistbump. I know it’s hard.

So, what’s this post about? Black moments. In a romance novel, a black moment is the dark before the dawn. It’s that “all is lost” point of angst and hopelessness before the happy ending. My black moment was a 10-day descent into madness insomnia.

Around day 7-8, I stayed up late (of course!) watching Black Swan with my husband. Oh, my poor, put-upon husband. I’m so glad he’s mellow and relaxed. Pick up your socks, honey.

Anyway, we both LOVED this movie. It’s dark and artistic and freaky and gorgeous. Natalie Portman’s face! She plays the tortured perfectionist to…perfection. You wouldn’t believe how cathartic and comforting the experience of watching this uptight, neurotic character was. Someone crazier than me! Thank god. Someone crazier than me.

On a side note, the last time I felt this way about a character, it was the hero in Victoria Dahl’s Crazy for Love. He was so anxious and messed up and caring. I cried at the end. Good times.

(spoiler alert) No one would call the last scene of Black Swan happy. And yet, I felt happy for the character. She’d done it. She’d achieved perfection. She gave the performance of a lifetime. Sure, she died afterwards, but she’d led such a joyless, tightly wound existence. Death was a blessing. (end spoiler)

Don’t worry. I’m not going to sprout black wings and fly into the underworld. I hashed out a basic idea for book 2, worked through the insomnia, and started sleeping regularly again. Triumph!

I’m so glad I made it to the other side. Because the thing about insomnia is that it feels endless. Like you’ll never sleep a full night again. During certain parts of the day, I was functional. Nothing more. I couldn’t rise above that level. After my insomnia passed, my spirits lifted so much that I felt like a different person. I realized that I’d had no joy, no lightness, no peace. It reminded me of the week my entire family had an awful stomach flu. Everyone was violently ill. When we were all well again, wow. The sunshine seemed brighter, the air fresher, the world a better place.

Oh, friends. I hope you are in a good place right now. If you’re struggling, know this: you are not alone.