Writers of both sexes understand giving birth. It’s exhausting. Writers give birth every time they release a new book, or new words for any media. It’s a moment of extreme pain—wondering if they got it right, if it will grab readers, if they will get good reviews, if readers will like it. It’s a moment of great joy. Holding a book inside is—to quote Jeremiah in the Bible—like fire burning in your bones. It has to get out before the flames can be quenched.
“Body in a Tree Murder” is number 31, or 34 for me—depending on how one counts. I don’t usually count the first three. They were written under a different last name and so long ago that I’m not sure they are still available. I certainly never get any money for them!
My atheist father wrote four anti-God books before his publisher was killed in a car wreck and my father quit writing. When I first started writing my goal was to write at least one more than he did to counterbalance any derogatory or lasting effects his books had wielded. However, writing is so much more than that to me. It is simply something that I cannot not do. I am only alive when I am writing and giving birth. No matter how much it hurts.