Author Guest Blog by Forbes Amone
A lot of people ask me where I find inspiration. My true belief is fiction contains a fair amount of truth. In my books, the stories are always based around a real life experience of mine. I like to take on complete memory and work it into my stories then add in a few other elements. In, In My Mother’s Footsteps, like Anela, I lived in Sausalito, California for a short time and traveled to Oahu, Hawaii. The sightseeing Anela did resulted from some of my family’s favorite places to visit. I like to put just a little bit of myself into every story. Just like in this scene, Anela and her love interest, Christian, went to our favorite shrimp truck in the North Shore.
We drove in comfortable silence until we arrived at Giovanni's Shrimp truck.
Parked in the middle of what looked like the front yard of somebody’s home and surrounded by several plumeria trees, sat the food truck. The shock of it being an actual automobile and the instantaneous doubt of the quality of food they served diminished at the number of people waiting in line. The ones that weren't in line were signing their names all over the truck.
What surprised me even more was that the crowds gathered there to eat weren’t just tourists, there were tons of locals.
“Have you eaten here before?” I asked as we walked toward the truck.
“All the time. It's delicious, but I must warn you, it's not conducive for kissing.” Christian laughed and gestured toward the picnic tables. It was a good look on him. “Go find us a seat and I'll get the food.”
I found one of the only empty tables under the shade of a beautiful plumeria tree and watched as Christian made his way through the line to order our food. Stuffing our soda cans into the front pockets of his shorts, he carried our plates of food over to the table. The scent of garlic wafted through the air when he placed everything on the table. It smelled so good.
“Thank you,” I said with a big smile.
My plate was filled with a mound of rice, covered in shrimp, and all of it smothered in a garlic sauce. Christian brought a few extra paper plates to house the shrimp shells as we removed them. It was a messy affair, but one that proved to be worth it. The food was delicious. I moaned in delight as the buttery garlic touched my tongue and licked my fingers without shame.
“Oh my god, this is so good!” I exclaimed, humming in delight.
Christian shook his head with a slight chuckle, but seemed to enjoy it just as much as me.
“We are going to stink after this,” I snickered with a finger in my mouth.
Anela Alborn’s life is a lie. After growing up without the love of a father, her mother reveals his identity. Tragedy strikes and she sets off on an adventure that leads to more than she could ever imagine. Bumping into Christian Sivers distracts her from the real man of her dreams, her father. Will he live up to her dreams? And does she follow in her mother’s footsteps?
My brown, wooden, antiquated cottage sat on top of a hill in Sausalito. The shingles were bleached out from exposure to the sun’s rays. A beautiful, naturally-worn deck wound around the small chalet and gave me one of the best views in town. The bold, red peaks of the Golden Gate Bridge were visible through the light haze of fog over the ocean. With the hot sun working overtime to clear the sky, the fog always seemed to linger around the tops of the bridge. To my left, I could look down and see the rocky shore that the tourists often frequented. The slick brown and black seals liked to sunbathe on the boulders at the water’s edge. People would gather to take pictures or have lunch in one of the quaint restaurants that overlooked the choppy, aqua-blue ocean.
I had grown up in Sausalito my entire life. With the exception of when I went to Berkley, I hadn’t adventured into the city much. Sometimes, I'd take the ferry to Angel Island with my mountain bike and take leisurely rides or run the hills. I hadn't done that since I ran out of my mother's house, either.
Now that I had packed up all of her belongings — with the exception a few things I wanted to keep — I was exhausted. As I sat on the deck of my small cottage and stared out into the vast ocean, I felt anxious about the file that sat on my lap. Lennie had given it to me at his office three days before and I had yet to open it. The fear at what I'd find seeped in and turned my stomach.
Focusing my attention, I looked down at the folder and decided the time had come to face whatever was inside. My hands trembled as I lifted the two metal prongs and opened the flap. I tipped the folder upside down to empty the contents, finding the usual white sheets of paper that were full of legal jargon. How I wished I didn't know what they meant. Sifting through it all, I found a copy of the deed to the house, which stated that it had been transferred to my name. Also, there was the pink slip to my mother's car to be filled out and mailed to the Department of Motor Vehicles, and a small envelope with my mother's messy, artsy script on the front. One word had been written on it: Anela.
Jennifer Garcia’s (aka Forbes Arnone) love of travel began when she traveled to the West Coast to visit her father at the age of three. Her home until she was sixteen was a small coastal town near Boston. She currently resides in Los Angeles with her husband, two sons, and two dogs.
Her lifelong love for reading and writing was put aside for many years while she made her way in the world and nurtured her young family. Even though she is older, and life never seems to settle, she’s finding her way while attending college full-time in pursuit of a B.A. in English Literature. She also runs a business, and is still caring for her family. Believing she can do it all, with the help of her family, she worked on her first novel during the late hours of the night while balancing the rest of her life during the day. Her hard work paid off, as her first novel, My Mr. Manny, will be published August 2013.