If you haven’t had a chance to read this yet, I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this suspenseful, gripping novel which will have you shedding silent tears by its powerful end. This is a very different story, meant to incite… inspire a different experience from which you may be accustomed, so with that in mind, Tarryn wanted to share some thoughts with her readers as it pertains to Mud Vein…
I am a writer and words are my weapon. I want to hurt you. I want my words to be salt, and I want to pour them into your open wound. I want my words to be jagged pieces of mirror that you can see yourself reflected in. I am a sadist otherwise known as an artist. My books are a call to women who have been doubled over by heartache, bound by boredom, captives of a past that will not let them go, victors of a past that tried to kill them. I have a disease you see, it’s called human nature, and I am fascinated by it. So, if you choose to read Mud Vein remember that about me. I’m not writing to entertain you, or to make money, or to have my book propped neatly on a shelf in Target. I write to explore the dark corners of myself, and I want you to come with me. I’m a little bit like you. I think you’ll see yourself in the pages of Mud Vein. I haven’t told you very much about it on purpose. I want you to go in blind. I want you to stumble across a thought, a sound, a hurt-which you had thought special to you. And realize I have felt them too, someone you have never met. If you choose to read Mud Vein, please don’t ask yourself what it says, ask yourself what it means. And once you read my black words, on a white page, e-mail me and tell me your interpretation. I can’t wait for your thoughts.
When reclusive novelist Senna Richards wakes up on her thirty-third birthday, everything has changed. Caged behind an electrical fence, locked in a house in the middle of the snow, Senna is left to decode the clues to find out why she was taken.
If she wants her freedom, she has to take a close look at her past. But, her past has a heartbeat…and her kidnapper is nowhere to be found. With her survival hanging by a thread, Senna soon realizes this is a game. A dangerous one. Only the truth can set her free.
You don’t have to be alone. We are mostly born that way though. We grow up being nurtured to believe that the other half of our soul is somewhere out there. And since there are seven billion people inhabiting our planet, chances are one of them is for you. To find that person, to find your soul piece, or your great love we must count on our paths diverging, the tangling of lives, the soft whispering of one soul recognizing another.
I found my piece. She wasn’t what I was expecting. If you formed a woman’s soul out of black graphite, bathed it in blood, and then rolled it around in the softest rose petals, you still wouldn’t have touched on the complication that was, my match.
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