Blurb:
Through
a series of open letters to her favorite actor, Daniel Craig, the author
details her struggles with abuse, mental illness, and her ultimate triumph over
both.
About the Author:
Amy
McCorkle was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky.
She has lived in New
Mexico and Texas as well, but she currently makes her home in Shepherdsville, Kentucky.
An
award-winning blogger, she is also a successful author in both the sci-fi
erotic romance genre with No Ordinary Love
and a dark romantic suspense tale, Another
Way To Die. She’s also written the first two books of a Mad Max meets Gladiator series set to be a trilogy. She has placed second in the
2011 Preditors & Editors Readers Choice Poll for Best Short Romance Story and
semi-finaled with Another Way to Die
in the 2012 Moondance International Film Festival.
From
Hydra Publications, she has released Set
Fire to the Rain as well as her first print novel, Bounty Hunter. She is co-authoring the Gunpowder & Lead series with
Melissa Goodman.
Her
work is flavored by her childhood heroes, pop culture, music, and the cinema,
as well as the writers she still enjoys reading today.
Review:
Letters to Daniel was an excellent book
that I couldn’t finish reading. Let me explain. It’s a series of open letters
to Daniel Craig. Yes, the actor—the one who played James Bond. These letters
detail Ms. McCorkle’s struggles with child abuse, bi-polar disorder, and food
addiction.
To
quote Meatloaf, “Two out of three ain’t bad.” Well, actually, in this case they
are. Okay, you can almost make that three out of three. While Ms. McCorkle
suffered sexual abuse at the hands of her cop father, I suffered emotional abuse
at the hands of my adoptive mother. A friend recently told me about something
going around on Facebook, I think, that said something like, “The compulsion to
apologize is a sign of emotional abuse, so don’t be a jerk when you encounter
someone who does that.”
To
which I replied, “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
But
I digress. I’m also bi-polar and a food addict. And I read Letters to Daniel the week I buried two human family members and
one canine one. I wanted to eat everything in the kitchen, including the
cabinets.
Did
I mention I also spent a holiday weekend with my ex and his bride? He divorced
me because of my mood swings. Don’t get me wrong, I really like his new wife. She’s
a sweetie. But I felt overwhelmingly lonely the whole weekend. And guilty.
There was my daughter’s father-in-law who’d just lost his wife of fifty-plus
years, and there I was having a pity-party because my ex of thirty-plus years
had remarried—again. Yeah, I know: feelings are neither right nor wrong; they
just are.
So,
I pick up Letters to Daniel, and
except for the sexual abuse and the fact that Ms. McCorkle hasn’t yet married,
I’m reading my life story. Oh, and Ms. McCorkle is much farther along in her
career than I was at her age.
Then
I started thinking about when my funk began, and I realized it was before the death-watch, before the funerals, before the ex and his bride came to
town, before his mom took me aside
and gave me the “Shelley Dear, I was so proud when you lost weight. What
happened?” speech. (I’m still “Shelley” to a few family members.) That’s when I
realized at least one of my meds has quit working. I’m seeing my psychiatrist
tomorrow as I write this, and that’s at the top of my agenda.
I
was seventy-two percent of the way through the book when I put it down and just
cried. I guess I needed that. I’m told the end is very inspirational. Somehow,
through the funk, and the self-pity, and the tears, I found the whole book
inspirational. I highly recommend Letters
to Daniel. I just don’t recommend reading it in the midst of a bi-polar/
food addict breakdown. Hopefully I’ll start new meds tomorrow and be able to
finish it eventually.
Heat Rating: R
Length: 253 Pages
Prices:
Print: $14.95
Digital: $3.99
