In today’s Writers in the Storm blog, Joseph Lallo talks about “Restarting Old Projects / Continuing a Series After a Hiatus,” saying, “Chances are good that any author who’s been at it long enough will have at least one project that’s been simmering for years, either in an unfinished state or begging for a follow-up.”
I wish I had only one project that’s been simmering for years. Instead, I have dozens! Extremely prolific in the ‘90s, most projects were drafted and not polished. Those that were finished weren’t finding a home, as this was well before indie publishing, when one needed an agent—a difficult task to achieve.
Fortunately, I managed to get published with two different publishers, and having made lots of cold calls to Hollywood producers, I was working with half a dozen who wanted to see everything and anything I did. But then in 1998, a divorce, a move across the country, and then returning to school as a non-traditional student, my creative writing got put on hold for fifteen years.
Oh, I was writing. More academic than creative, but I did manage to write papers with topics I could later use for more projects. Silly me. Adding to the pile of unfinished ideas.
I’d been teaching professionally for a decade, and it was two years after receiving my Ph.D. that I was let go from my job—two years before I could officially retire with full benefits. Two years later, I officially retired, and within months, I created my production company and became an indie publisher. The first book was Grendel’s Mother, an idea generated after studying Beowulf in three different classes and realizing Grendel’s mother had no voice. My book gave her one.
After that, I began pulling projects off the shelf, blowing off the dust, and giving them life.
It’s been quite the journey.
Looking at my list of books published, they all have ties to earlier projects I’d written or had been teaching since the ‘90s, except for last year’s publication, Harbor House: Deadly Intentions. That story was a new historical Gothic novella for an anthology, published in 2024, which I then tied into a newly written contemporary story, allowing me to create a split-time thriller.
The current thriller I’m working on, Buried Trash: A Shelby Hale Thriller, is a mystery series resurrection from the ‘90s that I’m turning into a thriller. It’s the characters who hooked and convinced me to make the conversion.
From that 1996 manuscript, let me introduce you to the main character…
I’m Shelby Shawn Sherman Roberts, one month shy of turning thirty-nine. I hate gossips and love cotton candy. I’m slim, with shoulder-length dark hair and brown eyes. I squint too much (need glasses), drive too fast, and laugh too loud.
My first name belonged to my grandfather, and my mother protested it being hung on me, but Dad told her, “It’ll make her strong.” The only thing it did for me was get me a bloody nose or a black eye every first week of school until I entered fifth grade and I was finally able to return the favor. I guess Dad was right, after all.
Mom named me Shawn after her first actual boyfriend. The one that made her toes tingle when he kissed her, she said. In her mind that was what love was all about. Of course, Stuart, my ex-to-be, never did make my toes tingle. I thought he did once, but then I realized he was standing on my foot.
I’m constantly asked—or rather used to being asked when I was single—if I was related to that Sherman. I guess my Southern accent lends one to think I don’t mind hearing that question. It was usually asked by some drunk fraternity boy who always had a leer on his face. You’d have thought I’d have learned my lesson and stopped going to those kinds of parties. What can I say? I was young. I was more stupid then.
Come to think of it, I met Stuart at one of those parties.
While she starts out as Shelby Shawn Sherman Roberts, she changes her last name to Hale. A name she creates for herself now that she’s creating a new life and moving back to her small hometown and a pecan orchard she inherited some time ago. Her plan is to live in the trailer her ex installed on the property when she first inherited it.
And then, her first morning back from Atlanta—after the court appearance to finalize the divorce and collect the rest of her belongings—she finds a body in her trash can.
From the current rewrite, the book begins:
Had I known ahead of time that what I’d find in my trash can would put my life in danger, I would have done the smart thing: say nothing, not call the sheriff—my best friend and my first husband for all of about a month when we were 19—and let the garbage truck pick up the trash, as usual, letting the truck empty its contents into the country landfill.
Unfortunately, I’m not known for doing the smart thing. I react, not thinking things through well enough.
It’s how I ended up married three times.
I’m 38 and starting over.
Again.
The potential for this book to become a series is there, but it’ll depend on the readers. Hopefully, it’ll garner enough fans who want to read more.
Be sure to follow me here, and then go subscribe to my What’s New with Dr. Diana? announcement-only newsletter/blog on my website, so you can follow my progress via email. I plan to publish Buried Trash in the fall or late summer. With over 25k words already written and the story plot revised, my goal is to finish the first draft this month.
Behind the Scenes with Dr. Diana Stout 