Nicholas Sparks on Nicholas Sparks

I was born in Omaha, Nebraska, on New Year's Eve, a scant eighty minutes prior to 1966. As fate would have it, my father was a bartender and was scheduled to work that night, usually the busiest of the year. Short on tip money but long on pride, he demanded the finest obstetrician in Omaha and I was brought into this world kicking and screaming, the second son of Patrick Michael and Jill Emma Marie Sparks, in a family that would include an additional child (a daughter) the following year.

My family: (mom and dad, Micah (b. Dec. 1964) and Danielle (b. Dec. 1966) led a largely nomadic life in the beginning. Our father was still a student, working to get into a master's program, and he was eventually accepted to the University of Minnesota. I spent two years there and my memory of the place is limited. I had a dog named Pepper, a cardboard-box train I liked to sit in, and I remember picking bugs off the grille of the moving van when we finally left for Los Angeles in the summer of 1969.

Los Angeles -- my home for the next four years while my father went to the University of Southern California for his Ph.D. -- is also fairly shadowy. I remember getting hit in the head with a brick thrown by an eighteen-year-old thug, I learned to ride a bike (losing only one tooth in the process), and unfortunately, my pet turtle committed suicide by diving off our second-floor patio. In 1973, I went to Grand Island, Nebraska for a year with my mom (and brother Micah and sister Danielle) while my dad did his thesis, then we all reunited in Fair Oaks, California, on December 1, 1974. I remember very clearly that Kolchak, the Night Stalker was on television the moment we arrived at our new house. Perhaps that's why I seem to associate Darrin McGavin with my adopted hometown.

(Quick side-bar: because my father was a student until I was nine years old and my mother didn't work, we weren't exactly living the high life when I was little. I grew up on powdered milk and ate tons of potatoes, though to be honest, I never noticed how poor we really were until I was old enough to take an honest appraisal of things. Even then, it didn't matter. For the most part, I had a wonderful time growing up and wouldn't change a thing.)

Anyway, elementary school was fun, if a bit stressful at times. My third-grade teacher had flaming red hair, a big round face and a fondness for Nile green evening dresses that draped her rather large body. I flunked my first English test, but since my papier-mache volcano spewed purple lava (baking soda, vinegar, and food coloring), my creativity was deemed impressive and I was allowed to continue up the educational ladder.

The rest of my childhood was typical. Bike riding, exploring in the woods, playing in the American River, games with other kids in the neighborhood. Nothing special, nothing tragic. Just the life of a little kid.

High school was when things started to get interesting. For some reason, my brain kicked into high gear when I was fourteen and I didn't receive a grade lower than an A for the next four years. I ended up the valedictorian but couldn't give the commencement address. I was due in Los Angeles (again) for the state track meet. I broke a number of school and meet records during high school and received a full track scholarship to the University of Notre Dame. All this in addition to working thirty hours a week at a local restaurant. Life was busy in high school, but good. Darn good.

Then, as it often does, my life took a U-turn and things got tough. During my freshman year in college, I got injured, went a little insane, and after breaking the Notre Dame record in the 4 x 800 relay (at the Drake relays -- a record that still stands), I spent the summer icing my Achilles tendon. During those three months, in which I was told not to run at all, I moped around the house until my mom got tired of it.
"Don't just pout," she said, "Do something."
"What?" I asked, not bothering to hide the sulkiness in my tone.
"I don't know. Write a book."
I looked at her. "Okay," I said.

Eight weeks later, I was the proud author of my first novel -- The Passing, a book that was never published. I laid it to rest in a literary graveyard of sorts -- my attic -- and I still keep it hidden away after all these years. In all honesty, it's a wonderful story, except for the writing. That was the humble beginning of my Faulknerian career.

Fast-forward through college -- good friends, lots of football games, studying like crazy, competing in track -- until March, 1988. I met a girl named Cathy on spring break in Florida. She was from New Hampshire and it was love at first sight, at least for me. I told her the day after we met that we would be married one day. She laughed and told me to get another beer. Two months later, after writing her about 150 letters, I graduated with high honors with a degree in Business Finance, and went out to visit her and met her parents. She moved out to California in August 1988.

In July, 1989, we married.

Six weeks later, my mother was killed in a horseback riding accident at the age of 47. She and my father had been married 27 years and he took her loss very, very hard. So did we all. She was a great, great lady.

1989 was also the year that I wrote my second novel, The Royal Murders. Better writing this time -- wonderful dialogue, nice story, but too long for the genre. It's also in the attic, filed with the rejection slips. I decided to concentrate on another career. Since I'd not only been rejected by publishers but law school as well, I went through a number of short-term jobs looking for something that captivated my interest. I appraised real estate, bought and restored houses, waited tables, sold dental products by phone and finally started my own business (manufacturing orthopedic products). Although I knew nothing about the medical field or engineering -- my science education began and ended with Biology 101 -- I put myself in charge of everything. Thirty-thousand dollars in credit-card debt later, I realized my folly, big as a whale. Being a Capricorn, I had no choice but to take a deep breath, roll up my sleeves, and avoid the evil-death-ray stares that my wife was laser-beaming into the back of my head. I pressed on and it eventually worked out -- sort of. After two and a half long, long years, I broke even. We celebrated our smashing success wildly and without care, and nine months later, my son Miles Andrew was born.

During this time, I wrote yet another book, Wokini with Billy Mills, a long-time friend and Olympic Gold Medalist. It was published by Feather Publishing, a small outfit in Sacramento. It did well regionally (sales of about 50,000 copies) and was picked up by Random House in 1994. The success, I might add, was primarily due to the name recognition of Billy Mills. (Recently, new editions were published by Hay House Books.)

In early 1992, I sold my business and looked around for something to do while I was still breathing. "Pharmaceutical Sales" the ad read. "Okay," I said, and it was a really good choice at the time. The hours were good, the pay was good, and I only saw my boss once a month. Couldn't ask for anything more. I asked for and received a transfer from Sacramento to a small town in North Carolina, and in December, 1992, we moved across the country to a place we'd never seen, where we could afford to buy a house and start living the American dream. We celebrated our arrival with champagne and candles, and nine months later, my son Ryan Cote was born.

It was also in late 1992 that I learned my younger sister Danielle had cancer. We kept our fingers crossed, said a lot of prayers, and as they tend to do, the years rolled on.

Mid-twenties life check. Good job, nice wife, cute kids, beautiful house overlooking a creek -- what more could there be? In May, 1994, I found out. Cheers, the television show, broadcast its final episode. Bob Costas did an hour-long show prior to the episode and I remember lying awake most of the night after it aired. Cheers had been on for eleven years -- an entire era of my life -- and yet I realized that for the first time, I wasn't chasing my dreams anymore. My life was good, but I didn't want to look back from my deathbed and know I'd given that up trying to make my mark in the world. I decided I had to do something -- to chase a dream -- but what? My wife wasn't about to let me quit my job, so I decided that I'd give writing another shot. A real shot though, not a half-effort like before. I decided I could live with failure, but I didn't want to live the rest of my life knowing that I hadn't really tried. So, I decided to give myself three chances -- three more novels -- and if none of those were published, I'd be able to accept that I wasn't meant to be a writer.

Then, of course, I had to decide on the story, and sure enough, I did.

I wrote The Notebook over a six-month period, from June of 1994 until January of 1995, writing in the evenings from nine until midnight, and working one day on the weekends. In January, 1995, I got transferred to Greenville, South Carolina and continued editing the book. In July, 1995, I started soliciting agents, I got one, and the book was presented to publishers in October, 1995. At the time, I was earning about $40,000 a year.

Warner Books bought the rights for $1,000,000.

If you think I was excited about that, you're probably severely underestimating my response. I jumped up and down so long I got a cramp in my calf. I was hoarse for two days from screaming. I could barely sleep. It didn't seem real, but it was. And it was absolutely wonderful. (For further information regarding the process of getting an agent, see Writer's Corner).

The first thing I bought was a new wedding ring for my wife. I remember getting down on my knees and telling her that our life just might be changing forever and that I didn't know what the future would bring. Then I asked her to marry me again.

Film rights to the novel were sold later that week to New Line Cinema and that was exciting, too. Foreign rights were sold (eventually into more than 35 languages), and the novel was made a Main Selection of the Literary Guild. Life was grand. Life was awesome.

And life, again, took another U-turn.

Two months later, in January 1996, I was told that my second son, Ryan, was autistic. (A diagnosis that was later determined to be in error) It set off a year of tremendous worry and frustration.

Then, in September, my father was killed in an automobile accident at the age of 54. His death devastated the community and the family.

In October, my book was launched.

That month, I started the book tour for The Notebook. 56 events in over 45 cities crammed into three months. It was the longest book tour in Warner Books' history -- one of the longest ever, period -- but it was important to do, despite the fact that only one person showed up in Miami and one person showed up in San Francisco for events in those cities. Nonetheless, The Notebook slowly grew in popularity through word-of-mouth. It ended up spending 56 weeks on the New York Times hardcover best-seller list, and another 54 weeks on the paperback list. It was only the third novel in the previous thirty years that had lasted over a year on the hardcover list, and the only novel to last over a year on both hardcover and paperback lists, until J.K. Rowling came along with Harry Potter.

I continued selling pharmaceuticals through 1996 and into 1997, (Long after The Notebook had been sold and published and while writing Message in a Bottle) for the simple reason that I didn't know if I could come up with another story or if I'd go down as a one hit wonder. I finally turned in the company car and hung up the suits for good in February, 1997, when I thought Message in a Bottle was going well enough to give up the "real" job.

Beginning in early 1997, I also started working with my son Ryan, trying to "re-wire" his brain so to speak through intensive therapy. I spent 3-4 hours a day teaching him the mechanics of speech in the hopes of aiding his development and getting him to talk. It was just about the hardest and yet most rewarding thing I've ever done. (For more detail on the type of work I did with him, see The Rescue.)

In April, 1997, movie rights for Message in a Bottle were sold to Warner Brothers, with Denise DiNovi producing, when the novel was about half-completed. The following month, my family moved back to North Carolina and I finished the book soon after that.

Later that year, my sister's cancer reappeared, but the doctors were hopeful.

Message in a Bottle was published in the spring of 1998. I spent nearly two months on a book tour (50 events over 49 days, making it the second largest tour ever for Warner Books). The novel spent seven months on the best-seller list in hardback and another five months on the list in paperback. While on tour, I visited the movie set of Message in a Bottle while simultaneously working on a novel entitled The Best Man. The story wasn't working out however; I threw out 200 pages and knew I had to start over on a completely different story. In the summer of 1998, once the tour was completed, I wrote A Walk to Remember and spent part of the fall editing that book. (For inspiration and to answer other questions about the novel, see A Walk to Remember). In December, 1998, film rights to A Walk to Remember were sold to Warner Brothers, with Denise DiNovi producing again.

In February, 1999, the film, Message in a Bottle premiered, starring Kevin Costner, Paul Newman and Robin Wright Penn. It opened at number one at the box office and went on to gross more than $120 million worldwide.

By that time, Ryan was improving weekly, and the accurate diagnosis of his problem -- CAPD (a condition almost like dyslexia of sound) -- made the future seem far more hopeful for him. For the first time since he'd been born, our worries about him were beginning to fade, since we knew he was going to be fine.

I spent the spring and summer of 1999 writing The Rescue, which drew in large part on our experiences with Ryan. Since it was so emotional at times to write, my wife was there to console me and offer support when I needed it. (For more information, see The Rescue). In July, my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary, and wouldn't you know it? -- all that consoling had worked wonders and she was pregnant again.

In the fall of 1999, Ryan started kindergarten with other kids his age, in a regular, mainstream class and my wife and I were incredibly proud of him for all the work he'd done and all the struggles he'd had to overcome. (Miles had always been a wonderful student, by the way).

Right around the time school for Ryan began, A Walk to Remember was published and the book tour included 42 events in 37 cities in the U.S., and another few cities in Europe. In the end, it would spend nearly six months on the hardcover best-seller list, another five months on the paperback best seller list, and it became the most popular novel in hardcover that I'd written up to that point.

Then, good and bad news came at once.

In January, 2000, my third son Landon was born. In January, 2000, the drugs to control my sister's brain tumor were no longer working and everyone in the family knew it was only a matter of time before she passed away.

I spent the first six months of 2000 flying back and forth to California to visit her, and it was heart-breaking for me. Sadly, she passed in early June, 2000 at the age of 33.

As in 1998, during those six months while my sister was growing ill and I was bonding with my infant son, I tried writing a novel that didn't pan out. I again threw out 200 pages, and started A Bend in the Road in July, after my editor came down for a visit to help me come up with a story. (For inspiration, see A Bend in the Road).

In the fall of 2000, I went on tour for The Rescue. 32 events over 29 days, and another 11 days in Europe. The novel hit #1 on the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Hardcover Fiction lists, and spent nearly five months on the best-seller list. A couple of months later, I finished writing A Bend in the Road.

In January, 2001, we started a massive landscaping project at our home since I'd always wanted a garden . It is, in all honesty, something to behold. As I like to tell people who ask if I did the work myself, "With these two hands. . ." I pause and hold my hands up, drawing attention to them, "I wrote all the checks that paid people to do all this."

Anyway, since it had been so busy for so long and I'd just finished my novel, my wife and I took a romantic getaway weekend.

Sure enough, she was pregnant again.

In April, once the editing was completed on A Bend in the Road, I started my sixth novel, The Guardian. In May, filming for A Walk to Remember began, and in July, plans were made to adapt The Rescue into a television series.

In August, my twin daughters were born, Lexie Danielle and Savannah Marin.

In September, I went on tour for A Bend in the Road. This time, a smaller tour -- 20 events in the U.S. and a week in Europe, taking a little more than a month. Still far larger than most tours, but relatively small for me.

Throughout the fall, negotiations continued for The Rescue to be adapted as a television series, with Denise DiNovi (The District) and I serving as executive producers. The film rights to A Bend in the Road were sold, and I finished the first draft of The Guardian. I then adapted that novel into a screenplay.

I also made the decision to support the creative writing department at the University of Notre Dame with a gift of 1.5 million dollars, to be used for scholarships, internships, fellowships annually.

In December 2001, I began my seventh novel, Nights in Rodanthe, and in January, I made the decision to publish that novel prior to The Guardian. The Web site was launched in February 2002, and Nights in Rodanthe was completed in April. I spent the summer editing The Guardian. In September, Nights in Rodanthe debuted at #1 on the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists. The film rights to Nights in Rodanthe were sold to Warner Brothers, with Denise Di Novi producing. The tour covered 23 cities in 21 days, and upon my return, I finished editing The Guardian. The Guardian will be published in April 2003.

New Line Cinema's filming for The Notebook began in November 2002, with plans for a 2004 release. The film features James Garner, Gena Rowlands, Ryan Gosling, and Rachel McAdams, and is directed by Nick Cassavetes (John Q), with Mark Johnson producing.

In the fall of 2002 -- as the filming of The Notebook commenced -- I continued work on the adaptation of The Rescue as a weekly television series, and began writing my eighth novel, The Wedding.

In early 2003, my brother and I spent three weeks traveling the world, and upon my return, I finished The Wedding. The Guardian was released in April, I toured for a month, and the novel spent nearly five months on the best-seller list. Over the summer, I began work on my first non-fiction book entitled, Three Weeks with my Brother, and finished the first draft in September, just as The Wedding was to be published. The Wedding spent five months on the best-seller list, and Three Weeks with my Brother was scheduled for publication in April, 2004. In the midst of this busy year, I also learned that CBS passed on The Rescue as a television series, which was a bummer. You can't win them all.

In April, 2004, Three Weeks with my Brother was released, my brother and I toured to eighteen cities, and it spent nearly six months on the non-fiction best-seller list. Immediately after completing the tour, I began writing True Believer, and for whatever reason, work on that novel was exceptionally slow. Well, for me, anyway. I completed the novel in January 2005, it was rushed into print and published in April, where, like most of my other novels, it spent approximately five months on the best-seller list. The tour, by the way, was the smallest I’ve done -- only fourteen cities -- but that was largely due to the fact that I already had another deadline looming. Immediately after finishing True Believer, I had embarked on a sequel, my first attempt at writing what was essentially a two-part novel. The story in At First Sight picks up two weeks after True Believer left off, and I completed the novel in June. With the editing completed by July, the publisher decided to publish it in October.

In the meantime, I spent a good part of the year coaching track and field (I coach the 400m and 800m) at our local high school. Though it required quite a time commitment, the team ended up placing 6th at the state meet, the first placing in a dozen years, and the team should do even better next year. In addition, I then coached these athletes through the summer, and they were able to bring back a number of top finishes at the USATF Junior Olympic nationals. Our athletes won 2 national championships, 2 placed second, two placed third, and another placed fourth. We brought 13 men to the Nationals, and I’m happy to report that each and every one came home with at least one medal. In addition, I was asked to serve on the USATF Foundation Board of Directors, an honor which I gladly accepted.

P.S. Can you believe that during all this stuff, I still found time to read 125 books a year, lifted weights three times a week, and competed at both the regional and national level in Tae Kwon Do? Why? Reading and exercising are the ways I reduce stress.