S.R.Claridge writes Mystery and Romantic Suspense novels. Her work has been said to have the energy of Dan Brown, the mystery of Mary Higgins Clark and the humor of Janet Evanovich. Claridge novels will take you to the edge of your seat, keep you guessing until the very end and ultimately warm your heart. It is on the pages of every S.R.Claridge novel that Mystery and Sensual Suspense collide.

For more information on bookings, interviews and upcoming releases, please visit the author website and Facebook fan page.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Fast Lane Confessions

During a recent interview I was asked an interesting question:  “If someone were to write a book about your life, what would it be titled?”  The answer instantly popped into my head.   It would be called, Fast Lane.

It all started when I was a child.  I would run everywhere.  I would dash down the hallways so fast I’d run into people and hurt them.  My mom often winced in pain, hollering at me to slow down, after I had inadvertently crashed into her.   I ate fast, danced fast, played fast, ran fast, prayed fast, drove fast and grew up way too fast. 

I was always in a hurry, always rushing toward the next adventure, antsy for excitement and wanting to experience everything life had to offer; no matter the risk. Danger was less scary than boredom.  I was never a sit-in-front-of-the-television-all-night type of girl.  I wanted to party.  I wanted to smoke it, snort it, toke it, foil it, bong it, bang it, crack it, taunt it, tease it, tempt it, taste it, make it and ultimately squeeze every last juice out of life.

Looking back at my youth, I did just that.  I wrapped my arms around life and squeezed it as hard as I could.  My zeal certainly led me down some unsavory paths; but damn, did I have fun!  I made mistakes and there are skeletons in my closet I wish I hadn’t put there; but the good memories far outweigh the bad. 

Whether I was driving across the country all by myself in the middle of the night, bungee jumping at the VP Fair, flashing my tits in New Orleans to earn some beads, snorting lines at a Hall & Oates concert, going to a nudist colony in Malibu, kissing another woman, dancing erotically in Hong Kong, having sex in a bull dozer or on the big M in the middle of Faurot Field…. I was living in the fast lane, with the crisp, cool wind in my hair and the moonlight reflecting wildly in my eyes.  I was alive.

Now, as I learn to embrace my forties, I often fight my body’s urge to enter the slow lane; but not my spirit.  I still want to party like a rock star, jump from a plane, dance wildly, have a lot of sex and every so often, go a little crazy.  I want to laugh harder, act sillier, love deeper, be less afraid, be more open, more willing, sweeter, kinder, more passionate and embrace life in a way I’ve yet to imagine. 

The way I see it, my youth was simply a training ground and life in the Fast Lane is just beginning.  ~

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