Book Amplifier Tour The Next Breath by Laurel Osterkamp

 

Amazon: http://bit.ly/3GeVJqO

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212336698-the-next-breath

 

In The Next Breath, Laurel Osterkamp paints a quietly devastating and ultimately hopeful portrait of a woman navigating love, loss, and emotional truth.

Robin has never stopped grieving Jed, the intense, brilliant man she fell for in her twenties. He warned her not to believe in permanence, but she did anyway—and when he died, she was left breathless in the worst way. Now, ten years later, she’s found new air in Nick, a sweet, grounded man who might just offer the stability she’s never known. But Robin is keeping secrets: she’s about to star in the play Jed wrote for her, and Jed’s ghost still visits her dreams, urging her to move on. With her heart split between memory and possibility, Robin faces the painful realization that healing doesn’t mean forgetting—and loving again doesn’t mean loving less.

Laurel Osterkamp writes emotionally intelligent, literary women’s fiction about women at turning points. Her books explore the messy intersections of identity, love, and grief, with protagonists who are complex, flawed, and deeply human. Laurel lives in Minneapolis and teaches ESL and middle school enrichment. She’s the author of several novels including Beautiful Little Furies, Favorite Daughters, and The Side Project, which have earned her a devoted readership and Amazon bestseller status. Find more at laurellit.com or on Instagram.

Jed stood on the porch, alternately breathing and coughing. He didn’t have a beer, just a bottle of water that rested against the railing. I stood next to him. “Hey. What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

“Too smoky in there. I need a break.”

“Yeah…” It was a cool night; fall was resigning to winter. Hugging myself, I pulled on the sleeves of my belted sweater, worn over a black t-shirt and stretch pants. My beatnik look.

“What’d you think of the play?”

He coughed so he could speak. “You were brilliant.”

“Right.”

“No, really.”

“I’m pretty much the scenery, Jed.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. During Jacques' ‘All the world’s a stage’ speech you have this great look on your face. I love how you respond to him.”

“Why?”

Jed yanked the strings of his grey hoodie, which was attached to a denim jacket. “Because that speech is a load of crap. Your face rescues the entire scene.”

“It’s a load of crap?” I searched his watery eyes, for a sign that he was joking, but his face held firm. “It’s one of Shakespeare’s most famous speeches.”

“Yeah, and it makes this assumption that everyone’s life is the same. That we’re all male, we’ll all live to be old, and we all experience the same stuff at the same time.” Jed cleared his throat and up came indignation. “People are more unique than that.”

I shivered. Time to tread lightly. “Well, sure. But some of what we experience is universal, isn’t it? We all have our exits and our entrances, and we all play many different parts.”

“Some of us get more parts than others.” He coughed again, so hard that my own chest tightened.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes you the first.” He coughed again, a mad, racking sound that echoed in the night. “People always have something to say.” Jed squeezed his eyes shut with a wince. “Sorry. I try to be more than just my illness. I don’t want CF to be the most fascinating thing about me.”

“It’s not.”

His voice was flat “Oh yeah? Then what is?” He looked me straight in the eye, daring me to answer.

I blew out a steady stream of air. “Your attitude. You’re not afraid of anything, you find almost everything interesting, and I’ve never met anyone less shy than you.” I gripped the porch railing and stared at my cold fingers. “If you were a boat, you’d never be tied to the harbor.”

“If I was a boat, I’d sink.” He hacked and took a swig of water. The night air was static, but we could hear the boisterous party noise coming from inside. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned towards my touch.

“Wanna know a secret?” He whispered. “I’m just an actor, like everyone else.” Then he closed his eyes,and when he opened them I thought I saw longing. Like the beginning of a tsunami.

“All the world’s a stage, right?”

Jed tilted his head. “Yeah.”

We hovered for a moment, moving towards each other. When our lips met, his mouth was soft, inviting, and powerful enough to make my toes curl. He let out a little sigh, like he was relieved to be kissing me, but before I could wrap my arms around his shoulders, he stepped away.

“No,” he said. “This is a bad idea.”

“Why?” I tried to sound jokey, light. “You’ll sleep with anything that moves.”

He matched my tone. “That’s not true. I’ll only sleep with human females, in my age range, and attractive.”

“Don’t I fit that requirement?”

He looked me up and down, his nostrils flaring. “Yeah, of course you do.”

“Then why?”

Jed stepped back again, making new space between us. “I just think we’re better off as friends.”

I squared my shoulders to pretend I wasn’t wounded. “If it’s because you think you’ll corrupt me, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin.”

“Okay.” He raised his hands in defeat and kept his voice steady, like I’d bite him if he wasn’t careful. “Look, I’m not in a relationshipy place right now; I can’t be, with all my health issues. If we were together, you’d have high expectations because that’s how you are.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I see you, Robin. You don’t hide or lower your standards. I like that about you, but it also makes us bad for each other.” Lines crumpled his forehead as he held my gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I leaned against the side of the house. How had I gotten to this point, practically begging Jed to have sex with me? I was a pathetic cliché.

“No, you’re right.” I forced out a weird, strained laugh. “We’d regret it, you and me…” I tilted my head towards the stars and groaned. “Never mind. Delete the last couple of minutes from your memory.”

I turned to go inside.

“Robin…” He grabbed my arm and I let him pull me towards him. The yearning on his face told a different story to the one he’d just recited. I put my hand at the base of his neck, but withdrew my fingers in shock.

“Oh my God. You’re burning up.” His forehead was clammy and hot and not the way a healthy forehead should be.

He ducked from my touch. “I’m fine,” he growled.

“No you’re not.”

He started to hack. “Just tired.”

“Can I help you get home?”

“I don’t need your help. And I’m not ready to leave yet.”

He slammed the door as he went back into the party.

 

Guest Post: What’s the Appeal of a Heart-Wrenching Love Story?

 I’ll admit it; I love a good cry, especially while reading a novel or watching a film. But I don’t want to be manipulated. To me, vicarious heartache only works if it feels authentic. That’s why I wrote The Next Breath. I figured it would be a unique challenge, writing something both heart-wrenching and authentic.

Because, there is an undeniable allure to love stories tinged with tragedy. We’re drawn in by the reflection of raw, unfiltered, and complex human emotion. In the age of Instagram, we need a reminder. Neither life nor love is ever perfect. And rarely is it easy.

That’s why the appeal of a heart wrenching love story lies in the deep connection we feel with the characters. Their joys and sorrows echo our own experiences or fears. When love faces insurmountable obstacles, we remember the resilience necessary to hold on, to fight for what matters, and to accept what’s beyond our control. And, if we as readers can witness someone enduring all that and making it through to growth and emotional recovery, that’s incredibly uplifting.

It’s like when I was nine months pregnant with my first child, and I became obsessed with watching A Baby Story on TLC, which followed women giving birth. My husband noticed and asked why. I quickly replied, “It helps me, seeing someone get through childbirth.” The truth is, I was scared.

I believe that’s similar to why many of us enjoy sad love stories. We’re all afraid of loss and grief. But if we can live vicariously through a character’s pain, and also through their healing, then it helps us deal with those fears.

Tragic love stories make us cry, but they also make us feel alive. The pain becomes a cathartic release, allowing us to confront our own vulnerabilities. They invite us to embrace the full spectrum of feelings, from joy to sorrow and from hope to despair. We revel in the characters’ pain, but we also experience the profound capacity of love’s transformative process. We’re reminded that even in loss, there is a form of beauty, a testament to the depth of our capacity to feel and to care.

If a heart-wrenching romance is well done, then it lingers long after the final page, as a poignant reminder of love’s power and its inevitable fragility.

And, it allows us the opportunity to indulge in a good ol’ cry.

Writing Process & Creativity

 

Your book is set in Des Moines, Iowa. Have you ever been there?

I have been there many times because my best friend lives in Kansas City and I live in Minneapolis. At least once a year, we drive a few hours either north or south, and meet in Des Moines. I love that city because there are many fun memories connected to it.

 

What is your next project?

Currently, I’m working on a novel titled My Winter Song to You. It’s a fake dating, friends-to-lovers, holiday romance inspired Shakespeare’s “problem” play, The Winter’s Tale. And it takes place in Sugar Pine, Colorado, where I also set my novella, I Bet You Think About Me. (You can download that novella FREE when visiting laurellit.com!)

 

What is the last great book you’ve read?

I just finished Emma Grey’s Pictures of You. I was riveted! She does a great job with the dual-POV, flashback/flash forward structure. Such a great job, that she makes it seem easy, but it’s anything but. And, the story captures the feelings of love young while also dealing with some very serious topics with care.

 

What were the biggest rewards and challenges with writing The Next Breath?

While writing The Next Breath, I wanted to make sure I wrote about cystic fibrosis in a realistic way, so I did a lot of research. Same is true for feelings of loss and grief. But, both my biggest reward and challenge was writing Jed’s play within a novel. I started writing plays before I ever began writing novels, so it wasn’t completely out of my comfort zone. However, I was kinda dumb, to set it up in the novel that Jed’s play is REALLY GOOD. I put a lot of pressure on myself. And, it’s while performing Jed’s play that Robin finally confronts her grief. This was definitely the most difficult scene I’ve ever had to write, ever, in any book of mine. But also the most rewarding.

 

If your book were made into a movie, what songs would be on the soundtrack?

Funny you should ask! Here’s a link to my Spotify playlist for The Next Breath.

 

Fun & Lighthearted Qs

 

What is your theme song?

My theme song is constantly changing, usually to fit the POV of whichever character I’m writing from at the moment. Not sure what that says about me, but oh well. When I was writing from Robin’s perspective, Sara Bareillis’ “Brave” really resonated. I imagined her mother singing it to her from up above.

 

Tell us about your longest friendship.

I met my best friend Shauna in kindergarten. We were goofing off during gym class and became instant BFFs. Now, decades later, she’s like my sister. No one knows me better than her. (She’s the one I meet up with in Des Moines at least once a year.)