What inspired me to write Something More Than This?
The main inspiration for this story was my very first crush growing up. Without naming names and going into too many details, there was a boy who lived around the corner from me who I thought was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He never knew until it was too late how I felt about him. And when he found out, I was so nervous about it that I actually threw up on him…well, his feet technically. It was the most mortifying and awful experience ever… or at least up until that time in my life, which was only twelve years old. But to his credit, he never told anyone about it. He didn’t reciprocate my feelings… and that was fine, I guess. At the time, I thought I would never “love” again, but alas, that was not the end of my love life.
Music or no music to write to…
The answer is simple, no music at all. No noise, nothing but peace and quiet. But, I do hear songs that inspire scenes, dialogue and characters. For example, the title of the book, Something More Than This, is directly from Bryan Ferry’s song “More Than This.” Specifically the opening lyric: “I could feel at the time, there was no way of knowing.”
I have a thing about including my real-life friend’s names into my books. But I also have a thing about using names that seem relatively “normal.” I say “normal,” because I have a hard time taking someone seriously in my real life if they were named something like “Xanthippe.” (That’s a character’s name from “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” by the way.) So, Katy got her name from a second cousin of mine, Conner…I just love that name for a boy. And Dylan, well, he got his name from the one and only original Dylan McKay from old school 90210.
Where do my characters come from?
All of my main characters all have a little bit of me in them. One of my MC’s has a lot of me in her, dialogue especially, but her actions and my other MC’s, are all working on a mind of their own. The men/romantic interests in each of my books usually start off inspired by someone I was with my past or met previously, but I also let them play out completely differently than how it ended up in my real life.
Favorite writing advice
Write what you want and how you want to write it. Don’t take reviews personally…you have to know going in that not every single person is going to like/love your book. Reading is subjective and try to be grateful that the person who reviewed your book unfavorably chose to read your book to begin with. Because there are thousands upon thousands of books out there to choose from…they chose yours…get over it. And…a three star review is a good review, btw.
This would be sweatpants with a very oversized t-shirt and maybe a hooded sweatshirt on over it. I like to write in complete comfort so nothing says comfort than clothes that are too big for me.
How do I keep my ideas organized?
I usually get the beginnings of a story idea in my head while driving into my actual day job because I have a fairly long commute. So the next step is to plot it out in order even though I may already have complete scenes in my head playing out. I’ll outline the entire book… as much as I can at that time since it may change later on as I’m writing it. The scenes I had already in my head are included in the outline, but I still write the entire book in chronological order. But before I start writing the actual book, after I outline, I complete character profiles of the main characters. This helps to keep myself in check while I’m writing so that something that a main character does fits to how I envisioned them in the first place. And even though the story is outlined in full, the actual telling of it may change while I’m writing. Which is fine, but it’s nice to have a starting off point…it helps a lot!
Born and raised in Miami, Florida, Barbie Bohrman dreamed of becoming an author. Long after she had given up, a book club’s prologue contest encouraged her to give it one more go. What emerged were the beginnings of her debut novel, Promise Me. Now she’s living her dream and writing stories that entice readers to escape and break away from reality. When she’s not writing, you can find her trying to get through the books on her Kindle (more than a thousand at last count) or watching Sherlock or Homeland. She resides in New Jersey with her husband and two children.
Dylan stays completely still and quiet. If I couldn’t see the steady beat of his pulse on the side of his neck, I would swear that he was dead. It’s bad enough that my heart is jackhammering away inside its cage in my chest, making it nearly impossible to stay as calm on the outside as
I’m trying to be in front of him.
It’s a test, that’s all this is. Get it over with so you can move on.
I’m thinking this while reaching out to take Dylan’s hands in mine. He doesn’t resist, so that’s good. Then he lets me position them on my waist, leaving them there when I take my hands away. I feel a charge of excitement run through me at the warmth of his hands against my body. And it frightens me a little. So I keep my eyes trained on his throat and watch in fascination as it bobs up and then down, as if he is swallowing a breath. Not having to look in his eyes is enough to propel me an inch forward and loop my arms around his neck.
He says this so quietly that I can’t tell if it’s a plea or a question. So I move closer until our bodies are pressed together, like we’re about to start a slow dance. I’ve finally been able to clear my mind of all stray thoughts and focus on this moment, right here, right now, that I know will change everything. But I still can’t gather the nerve to look up at him, because if I do, I already know I won’t be able to stop.
In a voice so low, I ask, “If you were this close to me, like you are now, would you want to kiss me?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can tell that his breathing is becoming more rapid by the way his chest rises and falls. So I ask him again.
It’s then he moves his hand off my waist and underneath my chin to tip my face up to look at him. He skims over my features with his eyes until reaching my lips, where he holds them in his gaze for a moment too long to be considered merely friendly.
Then quietly, he says, “Yes.”
“Yes, I would kiss you.”