Daughter on a quest to uncover a family secret. A mother who wants to protect her daughter from hurt and pain. Who is right? Who is wrong? Who will say, "I wish I would've"?
Bio:
Aynoit Ashor was born and raised in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania.
What will readers like about your book?
I Wish I Would've is not for the reader who wears rose-colored glasses. It filled with twists and turns that will keep the pages turning.
Why did you self publish?
I self published due to the rejection letters and lack of response I received. I've learned that self publishing was the perfect way for me to go because I have complete freedom with my projects.
What is your writing process?
When I wrote I Wish I Would've, I wrote it out by hand and then went back and typed it on the computer adding to the story as I went along.
How long does it take you to write your first draft?
I wrote I Wish I Would've by hand so my first draft was very short, about three pages front and back. That took me about three hours. When I actually sat down at the computer and started to type and add to the story, that draft took me one month.
What inspired you to write this particular story?
Many families have secrets, some are just darker than others. I wanted to shed light on family secrets to get readers talking about abuse they may have been victims of in their past.
Excerpt
I began to have nightmares about Granny soon after seeing her in her casket. In my dreams, she had very long black hair down to her waist and was extremely ashy. Her lips were so dry, they resembled white raisins and she had very dark rings around her eyes, like a raccoon.
The part of these nightmares that scared me the most was what she would say to me. In a sing song voice, to the tune of London Bridge she would repeat, “You’re a devil seed and you are bad, devil seed, you are bad, you’re a devil seed and you are bad, now I’ll beat you!” I would hide in my closet, sit on the floor and pray for Mom to come and save me. Granny would turn the door knob frantically while continuing to sing her song. The door would rush open and Granny would reach out to attack me, the needle that caused her death still dangling in her arm.
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