One tragic night left Landon and Dylan’s dreams of happily ever after in apparent ruin. Forced to overcome physical and emotional trauma, the young lovers turn to a network of family and friends as they attempt to rebuild their lives. But can their one constant—their love—survive the changes both undergo on the road to recovery?
Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing Becca Burton, author of Something Like a Love Song. Hi Becca, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.
Thank you for having me. Something Like a Love Song is my first novel, a story about two long time boyfriends who find themselves facing a life changing tragedy and have to find the courage and love for each other to fight through.
While this is my first novel, I have posted many stories online, and have been writing ever since I learned how. I currently work as a nurse in a Neonatal ICU, and medicine has been a big interest in my life, and always seems to find a way into my writing. I am passionate about diverse, LGBTQ fiction, and am very excited to contribute to this genre.
What is the most satisfying thing about being a writer?
This probably sounds cheesy, but I think the most satisfying thing about being a writer is getting to do something that I really love doing. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was very young, and the fact that I’m able to do it and share it with people who can enjoy it and maybe gain something from it is incredibly satisfying. And slightly hard to believe I’m actually doing it!
Do your characters ever take over your writing and make the story go somewhere you hadn’t originally planned?
Oh, all the time! Sometimes I’ll have the best intentions for a scene, or have written down an outline for how something is going to go and then a character decides “nope, we’re not doing it that way,” and the scene completely derails. It happens more times then I’d like to admit! Usually for the better, though sometimes I’ll have to reign them back in for plot purposes.
How did you celebrate the release of your book?
As I’m writing this, it hasn’t come out yet, but I plan on celebrating with lots of wine and maybe some expensive chocolate. Mostly, the fact that I’m publishing my first novel is a reward enough as it is!
How did you come up with the idea for this book?
As you may know, the book started as a story I posted online over the course of a few years. The general idea was something I’d been interested in writing for awhile – I’d worked with individuals with brain injuries, and was in nursing school at the time, so it was something that was on my mind. I was fascinated by the subject, and I realized that so many stories that deal with hate crimes and brain injuries, the event happened at the end of the story, as the climax. I wanted to explore what happens after – the road to recovery and how a couple would come back from something so traumatic. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and so this story came of that.
Have you ever written naked?
Ha! I honestly can’t say that I ever have. On hot summer days I’ve written in nearly-naked summer clothes, but that’s probably as close as I’ve gotten. Maybe it’s something to add to my t0-do list?
Thanks for joining us and for sharing some of your writing experience. Best of luck with the release! :)
Landon’s bed is in the center of the room, and Dylan’s heart begins to pound in his chest as he takes a step forward, hesitates. Landon looks so small, tucked into the middle of the bed, and everything about the scene is unnatural and wrong. His head is wrapped with thick bandages, for which Dylan is grateful—he isn’t sure he could handle that. Just the thought of what’s happening to Landon, to his fiancé, is enough to make his throat constrict, his chest tighten.
A ventilator tube parts Landon’s lips, and his chest rises and falls in equal, rhythmic whirrs. IVs line his arms; the wires snake from under his hospital gown. His freckles stand out starkly against the unnatural pale hue of his skin, except where the deep purple of a bruise creeps from under the bandages and swells down to his left cheekbone. It seems impossible that only hours ago they were laughing in the park, holding hands and eating ice cream from the small corner stand; it’s like some distant memory, a fading dream. But the ache deep in Dylan’s chest, the way his stomach is knotting itself, the too-clean smell of the hospital burning his nose, Landon’s face, battered and bruised—Dylan can’t look away—all this is too real to be a dream, no matter how badly Dylan wants to just wake up, wants all this to go away and everything to be okay.
“You can touch him, if you want,” Brittany says, her voice soft. “We need to make sure to reduce extra stimulation, to allow his brain time to recover, but it’s okay to hold his hand.”
Dylan looks up at her. Her smile is kind and understanding. Then he turns back to Landon and takes a small step forward. Landon’s hand is right there, resting above the covers, and Dylan doesn’t know why he’s so nervous; he’s held Landon’s hand more times than he could begin to count. But, surrounded by machines and tubes, Landon has never looked so utterly fragile, as if he could shatter at the lightest touch.
“It’s okay,” Brittany says from behind him, and Dylan squeezes his eyes shut, tears pricking behind his eyelids. “You won’t hurt him.”
Landon’s skin is cold; his hand is unnaturally still. Even in sleep Landon’s hand would always find Dylan’s, their fingers would curl together like a reflex.
“I’m so sorry,” Dylan whispers, holding on a little tighter. “I’m so…”
His voice catches, the words bottling up in his throat, unable to escape. Landon’s chest rises, falls, in, out.
“You’re so hurt, and it’s my fault,” Dylan manages, his voice barely audible above the machines keeping Landon alive. “It’s all my fault and I’m…” He exhales slowly. “I’m so sorry.”
He swipes his thumb across Landon’s knuckles, over the dips and grooves, and vaguely notes that Brittany has left them alone. He sinks down into the small chair beside the bed, not letting go of Landon’s hand.
“You need to fight, okay? I need you here, with me, and I can’t…” There’s nothing left inside him except an empty, hollow feeling and the knowledge that Landon can’t hear him. Landon’s engagement ring is in a dish on a table beside the bed, along with his watch, and Dylan fishes them out and tucks them into his pocket.
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About the Author
Becca Burton penned her first Nancy Drew fan fiction at the age of nine and has been an avid writer ever since. Currently working as a Neonatal Intensive Care nurse, Becca is a recent Oregon transplant from the Midwest. Becca has a weakness for coffee, the smell of old books, rainy days and her cat, Luna. Something Like a Love Song is her first novel.
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