Courtney Cole's Blog

It's been two years since my last release, but SUCH DARK THINGS is finally here!!!Dr. Corinne Cabot is living the American dream. She’s a successful ER physician in Chicago who’s married to a handsome husband. Together they live in a charming house in the suburbs. But appearances can be deceiving—and what no one can see is Corinne’s dark past. Troubling gaps in her memory mean she recalls little about a haunting event in her life years ago that changed everything. She remembers only being in the house the night two people were found murdered. Her father was there, too. Now her father is in prison; she hasn’t been in contact in years. Repressing that terrifying memory has caused Corinne moments of paranoia and panic. Sometimes she thinks she sees things that aren’t there, hears words that haven’t been spoken. Or have they? She fears she may be losing her mind, unable to determine what’s real and what’s not. So when she senses her husband’s growing distance, she thinks she’s imagining things. She writes her suspicions off to fatigue, overwork, anything to explain what she can’t accept—that her life really isn’t what it seems.Buy on: AmazonBarnes and NobleAppleGoogle PlayKoboReviews are coming in....."Written in breathless style, this page-turner relies on quick thrills, surprise twists...[for] readers seeking a fast enterrtaining tale..."--Publishers Weekly "Fans of domestic thrillers with an unreliable narrator will gobble this one up...Recommended for all thriller/suspense collections." --Booklist

2018 is gonna be a big year for me. I have SAVING BECK (women's fiction) coming out from Gallery (Simon and Schuster) in July; and then in April, I have SUCH DARK THINGS (Psychological Thriller, Mira/Harper Collins) coming out under my Courtney Evan Tate name.I just got the final cover in from my editor today, and I couldn't wait to share it with you.Such Dark Things---Dr. Corrine Cabot is living the American dream: she’s a successful ER physician in Chicago, married to a handsome husband, and living in a charming house in the suburbs. What someone looking at her wouldn’t know though, is that she has a dark past. The problem is, she doesn’t know all of it, either. Her memory has holes.She remembers the Halloween night her father murdered two people when she was seventeen, but she can’t remember it all. She hasn’t spoken with her father in years, since he went to prison. Repressing the horrors of her childhood, Corinne has moments of paranoia and panic, sometimes seeing things that aren’t there and hearing words that haven’t been spoken. Or have they? At times she fears she’s unable to determine what’s real and what’s not.When Corinne starts to suspect something is amiss with her husband, that he’s growing distant and drifting away from her, she quickly decides she is imagining things, because that’s all she seems to do lately—imagine things. Reality tends to blend with her fears, and everything becomes distorted.However, as the pieces of Corinne’s past come together, she realizes what is real and what is not, and that nothing is as it seems.

This is a re-post from my previous website.. Apparently, the things that were lost when my site crashed are not recoverable, but this is a story that I feel is important to have on my site. It's a piece of who I am, and it's why I'm so passionate about shedding light on the monster of addiction. **Loving someone with an addiction is a heavy burden to carry. At times, you feel alone, as though no one else could possibly understand. And most of the time, no one can, unless they’ve walked this particular path themselves.My twenty-two year old son, my first-born, my Gunner, was a cheerful little boy, his smile like sunshine, his charm enough to talk himself in and out of mostly everything. He was bright, he was bursting with potential, and he was beautiful. He was rambunctious, he was all boy, playing with lizards and turtles and snakes from the yard. His favorite show was The Land Before Time, and he wanted to be a zoologist when he grew up.Then, as a teenager, he changed. He became a shell of his former self, his mood mercurial. He lied to himself, and to us, told us that nothing was wrong, that his disinterest in school was because he was bored. That was a lie.The truth came out soon enough.He had started out huffing aerosol cans in secret, and that branched out to other things, like methamphetamine and heroin, and pretty much anything he could get his hands on. The Addiction hooked into him with sharp talons. I address it in capital letters, like it is a thing, because it is. Addiction is a palpable monster. It grabbed my son, and it wouldn’t let go, and he didn’t want to let it.It dragged him down, and we all went with him.Loving someone with an addiction is like being on a terrible roller coaster than you can never get off of. Like Beck, Gunner went off the grid. He slept on couches, in garages, in parks, under bridges. He called me in the middle of the night, he called me crying, he called me saying he wanted to die.He raged. He cried. He soared, he crashed.People on the outside looking in think that I should’ve been able to fix it. That if I FORCED him into getting help, he would’ve beat the addiction.That’s not the way it works. I put him into rehab multiple times. It didn’t take. Because he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t a minor anymore- he was over eighteen. So I couldn’t MAKE him do anything, not even when he was killing himself with that dangerous cycle. The addiction made him someone he wasn’t, someone who said awful things, someone who tried to hurt those who loved him because the only thing that was important to him was feeding that demon inside of him.It was exhausting.And then, one night, at two a.m, he called me. I could tell he’d been high, that he’d crashed. He was very, very low. His speech was jumbled, incoherent. Eventually, he said, “Mom, what time is it?”I pulled the phone away from my ear to look at it.“Two-thirty,” I told him.He didn’t answer.“Gunner?”He didn’t answer.“Gunner?!”Still no answer. I could hear some sort of ragged, gurgly sound in the background, and I knew it was coming from his throat. I hung up, and tried to call him back.No answer.So I did the only thing I could do. I called for an ambulance. I didn’t know if he was dying, I only knew, in my mother’s heart, that time was of the essence. I waited by my phone, barely breathing myself, until I heard back.He had overdosed, and the police had found drugs in his house. He was lucky though. He lived.This certainly wasn’t the worst incident we experienced with Gunner, but it was the one that for some reason, turned out to be his catalyst. He was treated, and arrested, and he was put into jail. He was eventually released, and placed on a list for rehab. Finally, after several weeks, he entered rehab. Again.All we could do was hope that this time it took. That this was the time he’d want to get better and we could all get off the roller-coaster ride from hell. He told me he wanted to get better, but he was in for the fight of his life. He woke up in the night, in cold sweats and craving needles. The cravings were stronger than he was, he thought. But I knew that wasn’t true.And you know what?I was right.He came through rehab triumphant that time. And then he entered a post-rehab program, and then a halfway house. He got a job and he put himself back on the path to recovery.Today, he’s still fighting his way back. He got a crappy job and bought a bicycle, so he could get a job further away. Then he got a better job, and rides his bike to work every day, through rain and snow. He’s determined to be better, and he’s doing it. He’s been clean for a year. That’s huge for him, and it’s huge for me as his mother.I want to show that a series of choices can affect life, that addiction can affect anyone, from any walk of life. Our family is normal, like any family that might live next door to you. If it can happen to us, it could happen to anyone.According to the numbers provided by the National Institute on Drug Abuse, the rise of drug related deaths is startling. During 2014, 47,055 drug overdose deaths occurred in the United States.In 2015, that number increased to 52,404.In 2016, that number became 64, 070.This is a pandemic. It is growing, and it is real. I’ve lived it, I know. As a society, we have to stop ignoring it, and start fixing it. Most of the time, people don’t start out wanting to use hard drugs. They slip into it, like a whisper that turns into a roar. We’ve got to stop labeling and condemning, and start helping.Where there is life, there is hope. That is something I’ve learned, and it is something we should all remember.If you or someone you love are in the midst of drug addiction, know this: You are worthy of hope. You are worthy of help. You are worthy of LIFE. Take the first step today, and go to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. They can help you find a program to get you on your way to recovery.I have also recently started a Facebook support group called The Anchor Room. In there, you have a safe place to share and listen, without judgement. Find it by searching for The Anchor Room in your Facebook search bar.You may also call SAMHSA. (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration). SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357), (also known as the Treatment Referral Routing Service) is a confidential, free, 24-hour-a-day, 365-day-a-year, information service, in English and Spanish, for individuals and family members facing mental and/or substance use disorders. This service provides referrals to local treatment facilities, support groups, and community-based organizations. Callers can also order free publications and other information.If you need help, please, please, please ask for it.Then fight for it.You are strong enough, and you are worth it.Live one day at a time, one moment at a time.Live fiercely.

OH MY GOSH!!I had the most amazing call with my editor from Gallery over the weekend, and I learned that SAVING BECK is going to be in hardcover!!I've never been in hardcover before, and I can't think of a book I'd rather have be my first. Saving Beck is a fictional account of a mom and son (alternating points of view) battling addiction. It is real, it is gritty, and I don't flinch from showing the ugly parts. Since it is fiction, a lot of the storyline has been dramatized, of course, for your entertainment. But the parts dealing with Beck's addiction, and the things he does in the book, they are all loosely based on things my own son did and experienced. I am very proud of this book, and I can't wait for you to read it in July-- in HARDCOVER!!! Eeeeeepppppp! Book description: There comes a time when offering your life for your child’s doesn’t work, when you realize that it’ll never be enough. The cold needle in his warm vein was a welcome comfort to my son at first. But then it became the monster that kept us apart. Heroin lied, and my son believed. It took him to a world where the last year didn’t happen, to a place where his father was still alive. What Beck didn’t understand was that it couldn’t bring his father back from the dead. It couldn’t take away his pain, not permanently. You think it can’t happen to you, that your kids, your family, will never be in this situation. I thought that too. But you’re wrong. Step into our world, and see for yourself. Watch my golden boy become a slave to this raging epidemic. Watch me try and save him. Drug addiction comes with a price. Trust me, you’re not equipped to pay it.-- Coming July 17 from Gallery (Simon and Schuster)

I've got some exciting news! I've decided to start an online (Facebook) support group for those of you who have loved ones struggling with addiction. Addiction can affect anyone, from any background. It's time that we stop being ashamed to talk about it. I never thought I would be the mom of a recovering addict, but I am. I'm not afraid to talk about the journey. If you, or someone you know, would like to join the group, go here.Have a fantastic Sunday!

Dear readers, The contents of my website were lost in an unfortunate server crash. Therefore, my blog has been emptied. Please stay tuned while I get it up and running again. Much love, and many thanks!!XO Courtney

 

You guys, you’re probably wondering why I’ve recently decided to take on a few editing projects.   I mean, I’m an author, right?  Why would I want to edit someone else’s work?

Well, the answer is pretty easy.

I’m the kind of person who HAS to stay busy.  If I’m not doing something I feel that is productive, I get all down in the mouth.  <

I’m bound up in traditional contracts for the next two-ish years, which means that I can’t release anything as an indie during that time.   That = a sad Courtney.   My creativity needs a release.

So, I’m offering my services as a developmental/content editor for other authors.

You can find out more about it here.   

Don’t worry– I have two books coming out in 2018– one from Gallery (Simon and Schuster) and one from Mira (Harper Collins).   I’m an author first and foremost.

XO,

Courtney

One Year Clean!

It’s been a year since one of the worst nights of my life.  That was the night my son Gunner called me at 2am, and overdosed while talking to me.

A lot happened after that.  He went to the hospital, he survived, he was arrested for drug possession.  He spent time in jail, then he went to rehab.  He finished rehab, and went to a halfway house.  Then he moved to a long-term halfway house.

This was all great news for us, because on the roller coaster of addiction, many of these milestones get skipped, or interrupted, or failed.  Gunner himself has done all of those things in the past… walked out of rehab, refused to go, quit then relapsed, etc etc.  But not this time.  This time, Gunner completed all of it.  

Let me tell you, recovering with a drug felony on your record makes it an uphill climb.  It’s hard to get a job.  It’s hard to do many things that we all just take for granted.  But he’s doing it, because he’s determined.

He lost his car when was in the midst of his drug-use.  So now, he doesn’t have one.  You know what he does?  He rides a bike or walks anywhere he needs to go— even if it’s miles.

He started out with a job at KFC, which wasn’t glamorous, but it was a job.   Then, he moved on to a full-time job in a machine shop, learning the machinist trade.  He has been there for eight months now, riding his bike through the heat or the rain–  and has only missed one day of work.  It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s dirty, but he’s doing it.  He makes an honest paycheck every week with his own two hands.

I am beyond ecstatic to announce that Gunner has been clean for an entire year!

This is an amazing accomplishment for him, and he has put in the hard work.   He went to two NA meetings a day. He hasn’t missed a single meeting with his Corrections Officer.  He’s never late to work.  He has put on weight— going from a 6’6″ 160 pound skeleton, to a 6’6″ 220 pound healthy man.

A month ago, his son celebrated his first birthday party, and Gunner was there, clean and sober and proud.

 

Gunner doesn’t crow about this one-year-clean milestone.  In fact, he doesn’t want to focus on it. He says he doesn’t want to become distracted from the fact that he has to focus every day, every minute, on being sober.  He can’t afford to slide backwards at all by becoming cocky.  Living with it is a way of life now, it’s with him every minute.

Last month, I saw an absolutely repugnant video on social media, slamming drug addiction, and declaring that it wasn’t a disease, that addicts were just lazy, that they didn’t want to get better, that they just say they have a ‘disease’ so that they have an excuse to use.

I almost threw up.

Addicts don’t want to be in the spiral that they are in.  They don’t want to be in the clutches of such a horrible thing.  They don’t want their families to be torn apart.    They made a mistake– by using drugs in the first place.  But then… then… addiction takes over, and turns them into people that they aren’t.   People who will lie and steal to feed their addiction.  These people do have a disease, because addiction literally changes the chemicals in the brain.

To climb his way out of the hole addiction put him in, Gunner has had to live in a crappy motel (because apartment complexes won’t accept him with a drug charge), and he rides a bike to work– even in the snow.   That is NOT someone who makes excuses.  The idea that all addicts or recovering addicts are lazy is just… an UGLY LIE.

Opioid addiction has become a pandemic in America, and it’s one that will have to be addressed, because we’re losing more and more people to it every week… every day.  Often times, it begins by someone using painkillers.  Then, when the scripts stop coming from the doctor, the user starts buying illegal drugs to replace the painkillers… and so it begins.

I’m thankful (SO thankful!) that I haven’t lost Gunner. That he’s still fighting, that in fact, he’s THRIVING.  It’s been a long road, and it will be longer still as he fights his way back to where he was before.   His teeth were ruined during his drug use– so they all have to be pulled and replaced.  But!  He’s doing it.  He’s living clean.

On Friday, he gets to check one more thing off his list. He’s moving into his own place.  He’ll still go to NA meetings, and check in with his Corrections Officer, but he’ll do it with his very own address.  

Thank you, to every single one of you who pray or have prayed for my son.  I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

God is good.

 

PS.  This is Gunner today– on his break at his job.  

Love is strength. 

Love is unfaltering. 

Love is sometimes doing the hard thing. 

 

Since I write a lot of romance in my novels, it might be easy to be swept into the mindset that everything is happily-ever-after, and it is easy, and it is effortless.

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I was thinking about it this morning, after having to have a difficult talk with a family member.

Love is sometimes doing the hard thing.  Sometimes, it’s saying something difficult.

Sometimes, it’s doing something difficult– like when I had to stand my ground with my son who was struggling with addiction.  When he was in the active throes of addiction, I had to do the hard thing and not give him money– because I knew he’d use it to buy drugs.  It was hard.  SO hard.  Because I was afraid he was hungry or cold– and he’d tell me he was, and my mother’s heart would break.

But I had to do the hard thing.

I had to be firm.  I had to be unfaltering.  I had to be strong when he couldn’t be.

Love is being there for someone, even when it’s a truth they don’t want to hear.

Love, in it’s truest form, is the greatest gift we can give someone.  It is pure.  It is strong.  It isn’t all shininess and light.  It is rugged and tough, because it has to be.  Sometimes, it looks ugly, but in reality, it is the most beautiful thing in the world.

Love someone today.  Love them with your whole heart.  Life is too short not to.

 

Happy 19th birthday, Tristan.

A few months ago, I announced to the world that my oldest son, my 22-year old son, Gunner, is a drug addict.  I expressed my heart-ache and the rocky journey.

Today, I want to talk about my other son, my middle child, Tristan.

 

^^ This is him mid-sentence, because he is always always talking.^^

Tristan is funny.  He’s determined.  When he wants something, he focuses on it with laser precision.  He’s my 6’4″ man-boy.  At times, he’s as fierce as a warrior, at other times, he’s sneaking around corners like a ninja to scare me.  He puts terrifying pictures onto my phone’s wallpaper to startle me, then laughs ridiculously when I scream.  He throws a blanket from the couch onto his back like a cape and tackles the dog.

He target-shoots, he makes detailed leatherwork, he’s an archer.  He works on a farm, hefting 50-pound sacks of fertilizer around on each shoulder.  He loves DisneyWorld with the rest of us- his favorite ride is Peter Pan.  He loves Harry Potter, and he’s a Gryffindor, of course. He’s a surfer, a swimmer, an outdoorsman.

He decided a few months ago, that he will serve in our nation’s military.  He wants to be a Marine, and not only that, but his goal is to be on a special forces team.  He wants to be elite.  He wants to be the most badass of the badass.  Because if he does something, he does it all the way.

Since he made that decision, he’s been getting up at 4am to go to the gym before school.  He wants to prepare himself for the early mornings and tough regime of Marine basic training.  He’s done all the research he can do, to prepare himself to become a warrior.  He leaves in September for boot camp.

Even still, he’s still my boy.  He still has a boyish spirit that alternates with his very adult goals.  This picture was of him from awhile back– he’d come downstairs with his shirt tied up like a bikini top and flexing like Mr. Universe.

I voted for Hillary.  I won’t bore you with the details of why, because everyone has an opinion, and I respect those opinions.  My son voted for Hillary too.  It was his first year to vote. Knowing that he was going to join the Marines, he felt that Trump has too much of a temper to handle being the Commander in Chief with responsibility.

Yet, Hillary lost.  Trump is now  Commander-in-Chief.

I asked Tristan, with my mother’s heart, if he would reconsider joining the marines right now.  I said, “T, I’m afraid.  I’m proud of you, but I’m afraid.”

I didn’t voice my complete worry:   That I might lose my oldest son to drug addition, and I’m absolutely TERRIFIED of losing my middle son, my Tristie, to a war.

Tristan looked at me, with a very mature look on his young face, and said, “Mom, it doesn’t matter who is president, our country needs protection.  It always will.  And some of us have to step up and do it, no matter if we agree on who is president or not. Someone has to protect everyone else, and it might as well be me.”

I don’t hesitate to tell you, that my gut clenched up and a knot formed in my throat, and I’ve never been more proud.    I’m still scared, as any mom would be, but I’m SO SO SO  proud.

He will be an amazing Marine.

And he will protect YOU with his life.

I can honestly tell you that you couldn’t be in better hands.

 

Happy 19th birthday, T.  I’m proud of you.