Where Secrets Sleep: Coming Back to a World I Left Behind

I won't sugarcoat it, writing this sequel has been harder than I expected.

There's something nobody really warns you about when it comes to writing a sequel, especially one that arrives long after the first book. You step away, life happens, time passes, and when you finally sit back down at the keyboard, the characters are still there, but they feel like old friends you haven't called in too long. You know them. You love them. And yet there's this awkward moment where you have to find your way back to each other.

That's been my reality with Where Secrets Sleep. It's like coming back to a world I left behind.

Going back to this story meant rereading my own writing, which is its own particular kind of strange. For those who know, Where Secrets Stay (Book 1) holds pieces of my real life. Childhood memories. The kind you spend years learning to carry. Writing those scenes the first time was difficult—it was like reliving things all over again. I hadn't quite anticipated what it would feel like to sit with them a second time. I'm currently having the audiobook version of Book 1 re-recorded, and hearing those memories read back to me has been a whole other experience entirely. But I'm thrilled to share this new version with you. I must warn you, CJ Lock's narration will make you want to keep a box of tissues nearby.

The first book stirred a lot of emotions in me, and in readers as well. Book 2 will be no different. Recently, I pushed through a scene I had been avoiding writing for weeks. And just as I anticipated, I cried through writing it. But for the story's sake, it had to be done. I won't tell you what happens in it—but I will tell you, it'll make you feel all sorts of things.

And then there's Gammie Frances (you remember her?).

She won't appear until the epilogue of this book, but it’s a thread being laid carefully for what comes next (Book 3)—but she's present in this story in the way that grief is always present.

I wrote this recently, and it felt true:

Grief is never sweet. It's honey laced with glass. That's the thing about those we love who have left us: they visit without invitation, triggered by the slightest of reminders. A scent. A song. The particular way light shines through a window, and for half a second you forget they're dead. Then you remember. Then the glass cuts.

 Some days, my longing for Gammie feels like the sharpest of shards.

Writing this book has often felt exactly like that.

But I keep going. Because the secrets still have somewhere to sleep, and I'm the one who has to wake them.

More updates soon. Thank you for waiting with me.

CherAnn Wright