Writing Novel Book Dedications
You know, I was really torn over who I should dedicate my novels to. I could have gone with the standard: For Ambrosia. But I don’t know anyone named Ambrosia.
I suppose I could have dedicated them to family members, friends, or my high school English teacher. Here’s the problem with that idea. I write erotic romance. Incredibly hot, make-you-break-out-into-a-sweat, squirm-in-your-chair, require-copious-cold-showers, your-eyebrows-might-burst-into-flames, erotic romance novels. Yes, they have a plot. Yes, they will tug at your heart-strings. They’re both romantic and fun. They’ll make you smile and might even make you laugh out loud, but I wasn’t sure that Mrs. B would want that kind of publicity. She must be a eleventy billion and five years old by now. I wasn’t sure if her heart could take it.
So I decided to dedicate each of the five books in the series to a favorite, departed musician. No, not Michael Jackson. I’m a metal head. The Sinners on Tour series is about musicians, rock musicians specifically, so it seemed appropriate to dedicate each one to a rocker who continues to rock my world.
I didn’t just dedicate the first novel, Backstage Pass: To “Dimebag” Darrell Abbott. Oh no, that would have made too much sense. I wrote a short paragraph about how amazing Dimebag was. Went all fan-girl on him. Why he inspired me and others. And how he continues to be an inspiration even years after his horrific murder. Why did I do it that way? I wanted my book dedications to be unique. To be novel. So if you pick up a copy of Backstage Pass when it hits the shelves in October and you’re wondering, “What in the world was she thinking when she wrote such a corny passage about some great guitarist who was taken before his time?”, know that I put a lot of thought into it. And a lot of heart into it. Unfortunately, I don’t think I put a lot of skill into it. It’s incredibly corny. Heh.