Category: Books

A Moment with Heather Huffman

by Jen Barry, posted in Authors, Books, Interviews, Uncategorized

I’m thrilled to welcome Heather Huffman, who has graciously taken the time to answer the usual battery of questions with her wit and charm. Heather has several novels under her belt, with her latest, Ring of Fire, to be released by Booktrope.  Heather isn’t afraid to write about some pretty tough subjects, and Booktrope is happy to give her a platform.  I think you’ll love what she has to say, so spend a few moments with her here.  You may find your next favorite author.

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

All of my books are about strong women with incredible strength and passion, who face seemingly insurmountable odds. In my latest release, Ring of Fire, a scientist stationed on a remote island to research green energy stumbles upon a young girl in danger, and suddenly finds herself thrust into a situation where she has to protect not only her life’s work, but also her life itself.  Add a healthy dose of love, adventure, and humor – and an annoyingly handsome government official – and you have Ring of Fire, an entertaining and romantic journey that reminds us things aren’t always as they seem.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing. The first thing I ever wrote that I still have and like was a screenplay I finished when I was 13. It was about a young woman in the 1800s who dressed like a boy and hitched a ride with a band of outlaws heading west so she could find her brother. I still think I’d like to clean that up and turn it into a novel someday.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Plaid.

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

When I first started submitting novels, I got the form letter back and I knew my work wasn’t ready. I learned from the rejections and got better. When I was having drawn out conversations with agents, I knew the problem was no longer my skill level, it was finding a niche for my work. When an agent told me point-blank that she loved the writing in Jailbird, but a story like that would never be published mainstream, I knew I was faced with a decision.

I thought about it for a few days but ultimately decided I’d rather be true to the stories in my head than write to please a publisher. So I decided to go indie with the four novels I’d already written. Sharing my books with others on that level was an amazing experience. I’m forever grateful to the readers who reached out to me in that first year.

When I was contacted by Booktrope, I was hesitant to sign with a publisher. I’d been rather spoiled by the level of control I had with being indie. I’d also been contacted by someone who felt I should be seeking mainstream representation again. I found myself with three choices laid out before me: stay indie, go with a small publisher, or get back in the New York game. I’m thrilled I chose door number two. Booktrope is the best of both worlds; I can’t say enough how proud I am to be one of their authors.

Are you working on anything new at the moment? 

I am, and it’s a project I’m really excited about. Devil in Disguise catches up with a few characters from my other novels. Conrad Langston, the hero for book six, was first introduced in Jailbird. Rachel Cooper has appeared in almost all of my other novels, even if it’s just a passing mention. She’s finally getting her own story – her little sister goes missing and Rachel stops at nothing to not only save her, but set her family’s life right again. Of course, she gets a little help from Rick and Veronica Sinclair – the main characters in Suddenly a Spy. I’m having a lot of fun with this particular crew. Devil in Disguise, like many of my books, addresses the issue of human trafficking, a cause I’m passionate about fighting. I try to use all of my books to be a voice for the voiceless in some way, but this one really shines a spotlight into some of the lesser-known aspects of the fight.

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

Each book gets its own soundtrack, and I listen to it constantly while I’m working on that book – I mean, in the car, while I’m washing dishes, going to sleep at night. It helps me keep the vibe of the book top of mind. Sometimes when I sit down to write, I have the scene playing through my head like a movie on a reel. Sometimes I have no clue what I’m going to say and my fingers just move of their own accord, surprising even me with what they come up with.

I do always have either a cup of coffee or a Diet Coke at my side when writing. I try not to snack – as often as I’m at the computer, I’d be the size of a house if I did. If I do sneak something, my weakness is definitely M&Ms.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know? 

A friend of mine has a shirt that I covet. It reads “Careful, or you’ll end up in one of my novels.” Characters are usually mixtures of many people I know. The heroine always has some aspect of me in her – usually her flaws and pain. It’s easier to make those come through if they’re genuine. Three come to mind, though, that are pretty closely based on a real person.

The first is Danny, from Throwaway and Ring of Fire. He’s based on a St. Louis musician named John Bartley. I find John’s music both fascinating and moving. He’s extremely talented, and he’s also a very kind and interesting man. I first heard his music when I was researching settings for Throwaway. At the time, it just so happened that he played at two pubs I’d picked out to be in the book, so it seemed natural to work him and his music into the story.

The other two are Kate’s friends in Ties That Bind. Kate is the embodiment of my insecurities, and her two amazing friends are based on two young women I worked with when I wrote that book. Like Kate, Liz and Jessica, the three of us had become instant friends. These young women were the ones who encouraged me to share my writing with the world again. They were the first ones to hear the dreams that led to Throwaway and Jailbird. I think that’s the soft spot I have for Ties That Bind. More than a love story between Kate and Gavin, it’s the novel that stands testament to the friendships that changed my life.

What color is your umbrella?

Green, although I never remember to take it with me.

Who is your favorite author and why?

Nathaniel Hawthorne. I read Scarlet Letter when I was in the 6th grade and it’s had an impact on the way I live my life. One statement in particular has stuck with me through the years: “Be true. Be true. Be true. Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst may be inferred.” It’s become my motto in life. Having your fears and sins out there for the world to see removes the fear that they’ll be found.

As for contemporary authors, it would have to be Sylvain Reynard. There is something very lyrical and beautiful about his writing.

What was the last book you read?

Honestly? The Bible – I read it with my boys almost every night. The most recent novel I read was No Time to Cry by Rose Campion.

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

All of the above. I love to travel, and I take notes when I do because I prefer to write about places I’ve been. It feels more genuine. If I have to rely on research, I try to find someone I know who’s familiar with an area to help bring details to life.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

The first thing that happens when the last word is written is a moment or two of me staring at my computer screen incredulously, as in, “Wow, I actually finished it.” Then it goes to my mom, sisters, and/or nieces for the first pre-read. After that, a couple of people on the Booktrope team help point out any holes that need to be plugged in or edges that need to be smoothed out. Finally, it goes to a Booktrope editor for another round of polishing.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Like each of my books, Ring of Fire had its own playlist. There is the obvious, Ring of Fire – John Bartley’s version or the one by Social Distortion, depending on the day. Joey by Concrete Blonde was another good one. Borderline by Eliza Gilkyson completely captures Alex’s hesitation when it comes to Daniel. Of course, all of my books have a little Springsteen on their soundtrack. For this one, Tougher than the Rest still makes me want close my eyes and be transported back to Alex’s world.

Where can people find your book?

The usual suspects – online retailers like Amazon.com, BN.com and iTunes are the best places to grab a copy. Autographed print copies will be available at my appearances as I travel the country for the Leave Your Mark tour – details for that can be found on my website.

Can we read a little excerpt?

Absolutely! It was hard for me to pick one scene, but this one made me giggle when I wrote it. Poor Alex has had a heck of a day – she’s braved hired goons, the jungle and explosions to rescue a princess whose irritating-yet-handsome guardian questions her motives. In this scene, she’s trying to wash away the grime and stress of the day by submersing herself in the luxurious palace bathtub, which is filled with scented oils and flower petals. In fact, the tub is so full of flowers that the aforementioned guardian hops into the tub with her before he realizes she’s even there.

“What are you doing in here?” Daniel Martin demanded.

“Taking a bath!” She scooped up an armful of flower petals in a vain attempt to cover herself. “Why aren’t you off trying to catch the bad guys?”

“I debriefed my team,” he retorted defensively. “I have exactly three minutes to clean up before my next meeting, and then it’s dinnertime. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

“I’m sorry my being here has inconvenienced you so much.” She took a deep breath that was more ragged than she’d have liked. “If you’ll kindly turn around, I’ll leave you to your bath. Lord knows you need it.”

She couldn’t help that last little jab. His jaw twitched and she was pleased to know she’d succeeded in once again irritating him.

“Don’t bother.” He took a breath and sank under the water, reemerging to shake off like a wet dog. “My three minutes are up. This’ll have to be good enough.”

“One can only hope.”

“You can keep watching if you really want; I’m getting out now.”

“Cretin,” Alex accused, covering her eyes with one hand. She might have peeked a little, but not much and only out of scientific curiosity…

You can preview the first four chapters for free on Amazon. You can also follow Heather on Twitter and check out her profile on GoodReads.  Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy Ring of Fire!

A Moment with Aida Brassington

by Jen Barry, posted in Artists, Authors, Books, Interviews

I’ve eagerly awaited work from Aida Brassington and was thrilled to learn that she’s released her first novel, Between Seasons.  I currently have my grubby little hands on it, and I can’t wait to dig right in.

Aida was kind enough to answer a few questions about her book, her writing process, and her affection for kilts.  Read on and learn why I’m such a fan.  Be sure to read on to the end, where you’ll learn how to win a copy of Between Seasons!

 

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

Between Seasons tells the story of Patrick Boyle, a 19-year-old man who dies in 1970 and becomes trapped in his childhood home. His parents take off, and forty years later a young woman moves in.

Here’s the official blurb:

There are things Patrick Boyle will never forget: the sound of his own neck breaking at the moment of his death in the fall of 1970, the sweet taste of his mother’s chocolate cake, and the awful day his parents abandoned him in his childhood house-turned prison.

Nineteen-year-old Patrick wonders for decades if God has forgotten all about him or if he’s being punished for some terrible crime or sin over a lovely forty years trapped in an empty home. But when Sara Oswald, a strange woman with a mysterious past, buys his house, old feelings reawaken, and a new optimism convinces him that she’s the answer to his prayers.

Things are never simple, though, especially when she begins channeling the memories of his life and death in her writing.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

I had an imaginary friend when I was a kid, like when I was three or four – her name was Mona. While I don’t remember writing it, my mother still has pictures I drew of my family and Mona, including one on which I wrote a really bizarre short story (think flash fiction) about Mona and I going on a hay ride.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Plaid, but only because I really like kilts.

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

Like most writers, I want the fantasy: the literary agent, the traditional publishing deal, being able to walk into a Barnes & Noble and buy my novel right off a shelf. With the closing of Borders and print novel sales shrinking, agents are more and more nervous about taking on anything they aren’t 99.9% sure they can sell. So while independent publishing isn’t something I’ve always dreamed off, it’s becoming more and more of a reality for those of us with stories to tell. The success of indie authors demonstrates that agents and traditional publishers don’t necessarily know what people want to read – playing it safe in the publishing industry is the equivalent of cranking out nothing but remakes in the film industry: people get bored and want something truly new.

Are you working on anything new at the moment? 

I am! I just began the follow-up novel to Between Seasons, and I just finished a project for National Novel Writing Month (a YA horror novel).

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

I tend to write sitting on my couch with the television on and my computer on my lap. For Between Seasons, I liked to listen to music since it’s such a big part of the novel – the music Patrick loved in 1970 as well as more modern music that Sara would have listened to in 2011.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know? 

Absolutely! What writer hasn’t? Sara’s sister Julie is based on a woman I used to work with, and bits and pieces of Patrick and Sara are pulled from other people in my life.

What color is your umbrella?

Red and white alternating panels.

Who is your favorite author and why?

I have two: Kurt Vonnegut and John Irving. It makes sense since Irving considers Vonnegut a mentor, and I appreciate the way both of them handle language, plotting, and humor.

What was the last book you read?

I recently finished German For Travelers by Norah Labiner, which is a great novel put out by Coffeehouse Press.

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

I tend to include locations I’ve been to – Between Seasons is set in Media, Pennsylvania, which is a small town not far from where I live. However, some of the novel takes place in a mental institution, which is somewhere (surprisingly) I’ve not been. I had to rely on the kindness of friends to get solid information about that experience.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

I’m anal retentive about getting feedback. After each chapter I write, it goes to a group of four people (some writers, some editors, some readers with a keen eye) who tear it apart. I revise based on their feedback and then it goes to my critique partner (an older man who writers really great mysteries), who also tears it apart. After that I feel reasonably happy with the outcome, but it goes to a few people who read just for reaction. And then I usually sit on a novel for another month or two before giving it another read and after more revision, then I start the query process.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Oooo, let’s see. I listened to “Slip Away” by Clarence Carter a lot during the early days of Patrick and Sara’s relationship, but I think the official song that’s perfect for Between Seasons is “Through Glass” by Stone Sour.

Where can people find your book?

It’s available in paperback and Kindle format at Amazon; Nook format at Barnes & Noble; and random e-formats (including PDF) at Smashwords.

Can we read a little excerpt?

To set this up, Patrick has died, and we get his thoughts on his wake:

“Yes, he had such a bright future.” His high school shop teacher stood by his aunt’s side, giving her the eye.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get lucky at my wake, man.” Patrick chuckled and moved away, gravitating toward Ginny and her parents. He couldn’t believe what people were saying about him – hearing all about what a good guy he was, how generous he’d been, how kind and giving. Most of these people had barely known him. Dying transformed him into a hero, apparently, although that shouldn’t have surprised him – he’d been to a funeral or two, and no one ever said anything shitty about the person who’d kicked the bucket.

When the old guy down the street had a heart attack, Patrick’s mother had dragged him to the viewing. The man had been a real jerk, chasing kids off his lawn and stealing newspapers off his neighbors’ porches, but everyone had gone on and on about what a saint the guy’d been.

Ginny’s parents were deep in discussion about picking up milk on the way home, but Ginny’s lips clamped into a firm, white line. She looked upset, and even though Patrick thought this whole wake scene was idiotic, he was glad at least one person who really knew him – other than his parents – was sad he was gone. Well, not gone… dead.

“I have to visit the bathroom,” Ginny muttered, heading toward the stairs. Patrick followed, Ginny’s brown dress swishing around her legs as she climbed, and she immediately turned into his bedroom instead of the bathroom.

“Patrick?” she whispered, startling him.

“Ginny?” He moved closer, sinking fingers in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms across her chest, shuddering and staring out the window. “Hey, can you hear me?”

She crossed herself and continued to stare at the yard below. “I can’t believe you’re dead.”

“I can’t believe I’m dead, either. It kind of sucks.” He wished she would open the window so he could jump through. Wait. What would it matter? He’d just toss himself out of it – he could move through the glass and screens, no problem.

A lone tear traversed the slope of Ginny’s cheek, and she allowed it to roll to her chin before she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Patrick moved around and sat on his bed – all the crying was killing him. It was such a drag, and it made him feel bad for dying. It was definitely a buzz kill to his idea about trying the window – he couldn’t let Ginny cry by herself.

“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,” she mumbled, touching the glass.  Patrick’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. What was that from? “If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.”

It came to him in a few moments. “Nice.” He snorted in amusement. “Seeing me off with some Whitman. I hear it’s better than the mass during my funeral – Andy said it was like cats squealing or something when the soloist sang.”

You can learn more about Aida by visiting her website.  Her novel is also listed on GoodReads, and she invites you to follow her on Twitter.

CONTEST RULES:

To enter, simply leave a comment.  The contest will close on Friday at 11:59 pm CST.  At that time, all names will be dropped into a hat and an impartial third party (my 11-year-old nephew) will draw for the winner.  The winner will then be announced here on the site, on my Twitter account, and on Aida’s Twitter account.  In the event that we do not hear from the winner within twenty-four hours, another winner will be drawn.  Just in case, it’s a good idea to follow both of us so you don’t miss out!

A Moment with Carol Oates

by Jen Barry, posted in Authors, Books, Interviews

I enjoy posting interviews with authors I like and respect, but it has been a while.  I now come bearing Carol Oates, so I know you’ll forgive me for the lapse.  Carol’s work involves a great deal of Ireland, Irish mythology, Irish slang, and Irish snark.  Anyone wondering why I like her?  Anyone?  You’ll like her, too, after you spend a few moments with her.

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

My latest release, Ember is about a girl called Candra who falls from the upper level of a parking garage and sees a young man with wings before she passes out.  She wakes up in hospital and quickly finds out her existence will end a peace treaty among angels on earth. She must choose a side or risk a war. Her problem is no one is what they seem to be and her heart is leading her in a direction she shouldn’t go.

Sebastian is a Watcher angel, abandoned on earth after a war to wipe out the Nephilim. He is deeply tormented by his past and struggling to come to terms with his present. He never expected to find himself protecting one of the creatures that cost him heaven from his oldest enemy.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

The first thing I remember writing was ‘Our News’. It was a writing exercise for telling what we did the previous day. I couldn’t have been more than six.

The first fiction I wrote was about an all-girl band called Gem, led by two sisters named Sydney and Max. Sydney went on to marry an actor and had a difficult pregnancy before she gave birth to twins. She later divorced and then remarried the same person, gave up her music career and became a doctor. Her younger sister, Maxine married the lead singer of a successful band. She didn’t want children. Maxine went into fashion at some point and was always playing matchmaker every time her sister’s relationship hit the rocks. It was a collab with a school friend and a total soap opera with guest appearances from a number of celebrities. I think we would have been about ten at the time.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Is that a trick question? lol I called my brother to see if you were trying to shrink me. He said my suspicion and the way I stressed over getting the ‘right’ answer said more about my personality than the question. 🙂 So, stripes…no, plaid. No, stripes. Can I have both?

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

I want to do everything, I’m greedy like that. lol. Seriously, when I decided to pursue publishing as opposed to writing and not sharing it, I didn’t know what I wanted. I thought I did and almost became the victim of a publishing scam. I began to learn the business. I figured if i just wanted to be a part of an industry that I’d better start learning that industry inside and out.

I hit another hurdle when I again tried to step into a business I wasn’t ready for and I became overwhelmed. It wasn’t helped by personal issues at the time. As that point I stepped away from writing completely for the first time in my life. I trunked everything and didn’t write for a year.

I consider myself lucky that one day I stumbled onto a story online, a piece of fanfiction. I began chatting with other women reading the same story and that eventually led to setting up a closed social group. I virtually met some wonderful women. What started out as screen names and a place to have a laugh became real-life friendships with some of the most wonderful women I know sharing our best ups and worst downs. Through them I got my mojo back. I went back to the drawing board and asked myself what I wanted. I decided I still wanted it all(seriously, sometimes there is no stopping me) but I decided I wanted to approach it like I would any job, slow and steady.

At that point I had no intention of self-publishing. I simply wasn’t ready for it. When the opportunity to submit Shades of Atlantis to Omnific Publishing came up, I measured my expectations against what they could give me. It had been less than a year since their first release and I knew it was a risk submitting to a new kid on the block. Of course, I was a new kid too. I felt we were a good fit and strongly believed it was a company going places and I wanted to go with them. Obviously, I was over the moon when I was offered a contract.

Right from the beginning I knew I’d made the right decision for me. Going with a brand new, small publisher won’t suit everyone nor would I advise it to everyone.  My publisher has always been incredibly supportive and continues to grow. So when it came time to submit my second novel, Ember, I didn’t hesitate. Again, it’s been a wonderful experience and the authors I met though Omnific Publishing, the readers and reviewers gave me the confidence in my writing to try self-publishing for the first time.

I wrote a short story for an autism fundraiser. When the fundraiser was over, I re-edited and added to Unfinished. Self-publishing is hard. I mean, I knew it would be a lot of work. I wasn’t prepared for the sense of free fall that comes along with it. Everything was up to me. I was responsible for content, formatting, cover, dealing with distributors and marketing it. All with no safety net of a publisher. Scary stuff. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment but because I wanted to learn all I could about all aspects of publishing, I was determined to do it all myself. Aside from editing, I did it all. I taught myself how to format and drove myself crazy because of that extra space I found in the fifteenth version. I designed the cover and then redesigned it three times. I uploaded to smashwords and, I’m glad to say, passed the meatgrinder first go. Next, I loaded to Amazon. I uploaded the wrong file… twice. Set it at the wrong price and in the wrong genre. Eventually I decided I had to let it sink or swim. So far it’s floating happily and is now free from most vendors.

I ended up with a renewed respect for self-publishers. Anyone who says self-publishing is easy, is selling something but I’m very glad I did it and I learned a little about a new area of publishing. I may do it again in the future. For now I want to concentrate on writing, maybe I’m a bit too lazy or too neurotic for self-publishing. lol

Are you working on anything new at the moment? 

I’ve finished the sequel for Ember. I’m revising, revising, revising based on early feedback. One of my pre-readers is expecting it by the end of next week. I find I work better on a deadline. I’m also working on the sequel to Shades of Atlantis. I hope to have that finished by the end of the year. After SoA, I’ll get back to adapting a script to a novel. Did I mention I also wrote a script because I wanted to learn that process too? 🙂 One of the characters from the script appeared in Unfinished. Then it’s a dark vampire novel I’ve been adding to on and off since last year. Basically I’m set for the next while.

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

I’ve looked hard but I don’t see whiskey and chocolate on the list. Haha. The last few months have been a bit crazy and I’ve been snatching writing time where I can, so I haven’t had time for many rituals. On a very good day it’s a tuna melt and a mocha.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know? 

I stole my brother’s soul and sacrificed him to the book demons. 🙂 At least that’s what he tells me when he reads my work or catches me jotting down our conversations on post-its. My brother comes out with great one-liners. We share a very Irish sense of humour, quite dry and brimming over with banter. I see bits of him in several of my characters, not always the guys. lol Don’t tell him. There is also a little of me in all of them. They live in my head and absorb bits of me by osmosis before crawling out onto the page. Not a pleasant visual, I’m sure. Other than that, they are pure fiction. The thing about fictional characters is they become real to the author. If they aren’t real to the author, how can they be real to the reader? For me, I can’t really base them on anyone, they would pitch a fit and refuse to co-operate if I tried to box them in to fit anyone I know.

What color is your umbrella?

See, the other questions I can go on forever answering but this… this has my brain spinning. Immediately I’m seeing long plaid and stripped umbrellas in my head. The characters from SoA and Ember are having pretend sword fights with them while a vampire plays chess with ghost outside a coffee shop in Paris. Work that out if you can. lol

The brolly in my handbag is black and folds up tiny.

Who is your favorite author and why?

Disclaimer, I’ve said this before, but it’s worth saying again I have a few favorite authors but I think if I was to choose one over all. No contest, William Goldman author of the Princess Bride. The book is fantastic and I’ve read it at least twenty times. Most people know the book or the movie but not the back-story. The book was published William Goldman as an abridged account of story by S. Morgenstern and Goldman comments throughout. S. Morgenstern doesn’t really exist, yet is presented as a real person. For years, legal difficultly with Morgenstern’s ‘estate’ prevented the sequel, Buttercup’s Baby being published by Goldman. For me it is the ultimate dream within a dream and that’s what we writers are all about. The world Goldman created around the book, bringing it to life, it’s an example of what I would love to achieve one day.

The mini website, where you can request a scene deleted because of legal issues with Morgenstern. I won’t ruin the surprise by saying what it is.

What was the last book you read?

The White Cat by Holly Black

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

I do it all. If the locations are near, within reason, I go to them, especially the locations in Ireland. I recently wrote a post about scouting locations for a house. I clocked up a lot of miles. SoA was set in Maine, London, Dublin and Meath with a mention of Vincennes near Paris. I’ve visited all but Maine and relied on extensive research of the area.

For a short story called The Summer Prince (currently out of print), I went down to a little country village in the middle of Ireland and wandered around for a few hours to get a sense of the place.

Ember is set in Acheron. A fictional city with elements of New York, London, Paris and Madrid, again places I’ve been. I melded them together using artistic licence as glue.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

First, I have a glass of champagne, Moët & Chandon. At this point I have a glass after each stage. I get feedback from my brother and sister-in-law. Revise. Champagne. Feedback from some writer friends. Revise, revise. Champagne. Feedback from pre-readers. Revise, revise, revise. Champagne. I’ll also write my submission summary and query at this point, knowing if the piece is accepted I will be working with an editor for several more months.  Champagne. 🙂

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Ember – Iridescent by Linkin Park 

Where can people find your book?

Amazon.com 

Omnific Publishing

Barnes and Noble

CoffeeTime Romance

Can we read a little excerpt?

Sebastian’s eyes lowered, and she followed his line of sight to his chest where her hands were pressed against his white t-shirt, her fingers slightly bent. She could feel heat of his skin radiate through the thin fabric and penetrate her fingertips. Still, it took a couple of seconds before she could move. Sebastian had that effect on females, much like the effect Lofi had had on the guys a few moments ago.

“Sorry.” She cringed when he had to wrap his long fingers around one of her hands and then the other to remove them from his body. “I didn’t see you.”

“You’re not very observant, are you?” he quipped dryly.

Candra flinched away from the touch of his bare skin on hers and the tingles it made erupt in the pit of her stomach. “I’m plenty observant. Thanks.”

Sebastian let out an exasperated sigh. “Hmm, yeah, whatever. It wasn’t a conversation starter.” He took her bag from her shoulder without asking and added it to his with one hand. In the other he carried a faded brown leather jacket clamped between his fingers. He didn’t tell Candra to follow him or even check to see if she was still with him when he walked away; he seemed to simply presume she would be, and she was.

“Where’s Brie?”

“A meeting,” he replied without looking at her.

“A meeting?”

“A meeting,” he repeated.

“With who?” Candra had to take some quick steps to keep up with his long strides. She wanted to see his face when he answered.

“An old friend,” he said, taking her by the elbow to cross the street, looking up and down for traffic before guiding her the way a grown up would do with a child or an old person.

Candra stared up at the vein standing out from the lightly golden skin on his neck as they crossed. She supposed tension or anxiety caused it and surmised from it that something was bothering him. Her eyes tightened. “You don’t have meetings with friends. You have lunch dates, dinner dates…coffee.”

His lips pressed together in a hard line, and his shoulders tightened. The muscle in his jaw flexed. “Do you really need to go on?”

“I could,” Candra snapped defiantly.

“I’m sure.”

“What is it about me that you don’t like?”

They had come to the gates of the small park she always cut through to get home from college.

“What makes you think I don’t like you?” Sebastian didn’t as much as glance at her sideways when he spoke. “Or that I think one way or the other about you at all?”

“Call it women’s intuition,” Candra said dryly.

“Women’s intuition?” He snickered. “You’re not exactly what I’d call a woman, little girl.”

Candra bit her tongue, choosing to ignore the bait. There weren’t many people around the park; it was mainly used as a shortcut through a city block. There weren’t even any trees inside its boundary fence, just a few bushes, one of the many angel monuments scattered across the city. The nearest one to them had its hands clasped in prayer and looked to the sky as if it was waiting for something. A narrow pathway wound through the grass and past a collection of boulders that didn’t look like they belonged there. They could have been some trendy form of modern art, except they had been there so long some of the stone had been worn smooth from people sitting on them.

Candra took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t starting a conversation she couldn’t take back. She wanted answers so badly she could taste them, but at the same time, somewhere in the back of her mind, she considered the possibility Sebastian could tell her things she didn’t want to know.

“In the hospital, I thought you were dangerous. I thought you were there to hurt me, but it wasn’t like that at all, was it?”

It took a moment for her to notice Sebastian wasn’t beside her any­more. She turned around to see he had stopped dead about five steps behind. He was doing that thing again, where he made her feel he wasn’t looking at her, but rather he was looking through her, as if he could look into her mind and dig out whatever she was thinking. It was unnerving the way his brown eyes darkened intensely. She felt exposed, and she had to fight an urge to cross her arms over her chest, except she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could affect her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake the feeling he already knew.

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t even moving apart from his impossibly long eyelashes fluttering when he blinked.

“I make you uncomfortable, don’t I? That’s why you don’t like me,” she suggested in a hushed voice.

Still he said nothing. An old couple walking past on the pathway had to step around them to get by. The woman glared at both of them in turn, clearly disgruntled by their lack of manners. Candra mused over what they must look like to outsiders: her in her Saint Francis uniform and him looking moody and modelesque, like he’d just stepped off a movie screen and into real life.

Finally she approached him, bringing herself so close she was look­ing up to his face. He was taller up close, at least a head over her, so she couldn’t meet his eyes when he looked straight ahead of him, but she tried.

“Tell me who I am,” she demanded.

Sebastian looked down to her then, gold and amber flickered in his eyes blazing like a hot coal fire. Candra could see her own reflection in the deep blackness of his pupils and knew she had asked the right question.

“We didn’t fool you for a second, did we?” Sebastian kept his fiery gaze on her.

Candra guessed he was about to inadvertently spill the beans on everything. All she had to do was play along.

“No, you didn’t,” she stated coolly.

They were so close now she could feel the heat rising from his body. Her heart sped until it was galloping along, and her temperature shot up, mingling with his heat between them. A small muscle twitched at the side of his mouth, and his hand came up to rest on her shoulder. She couldn’t breathe. Even through the cotton of her school shirt, Sebastian’s touch burned her skin.

Then he did something Candra didn’t expect — not in a million years. Candra couldn’t move. Sebastian was going to kiss her, and she was amazed to realize she wanted him to. All of a sudden her blood was like acid burning through her entire body, and her head felt clouded. She was putty under his hands. It wasn’t like she had a choice; she had to kiss him. Her lips parted in anticipation, her head tilted back, and without conscious decision, her eyes closed.

Behind her eyelids, fireworks exploded, white fireworks. They could have been anywhere; she didn’t care. It was as if time slowed down. Se­bastian’s breath was hot as it brushed the side of her face, and he smelled delicious, like cool, fresh mint mingled with musk and salt.

She didn’t know how it happened. A few moments ago she couldn’t stand him, now she couldn’t think of one thing in the world she wanted more than to feel his lips moving against hers.

Sebastian slid his hand slowly and intently up Candra’s neck, absorb­ing the shiver of her skin through his fingertips and leaving a trail of goose bumps over her flesh. His other hand brushed hair from her face, and his lips parted close to her ear. Candra let out a quiet gasp.

“Nice try,” he whispered.

******

Thank you for having me at your site today. It’s been fun.

Ember is Carol’s second full-length novel, following her impressive first outing of Shades of Atlantis.  Be sure to visit her Blog, follow her on  Twitter, become a fan on Goodreads, and check out her Facebook page.  Lastly, enjoy the book trailer!

A Brief Moment with David J. Kirk

by Jen Barry, posted in Authors, Books, Interviews, Martin Sisters Publishing

Any day now, a new book will be released by Martin Sisters Publishers.  David J. Kirk, the author of Particular Stones, took some time to answer a few questions for me.  I humbly submit these answers to you, so that you might learn a bit more about this fun, intelligent, and supportive author.  Take some time to read what Dave has to say, and then check out his information at the end.  You’ll be ready to snap up Particular Stones the moment it’s released!

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

Thanks for having me on, Jen.  To answer Liam’s question, Stones is about a young man growing up in a strange place.  Without the guidance of family, he must gather allies and fight off threats.  He is disillusioned, unable to figure out why society is doing what it does.  Deeper questions, related to his origin and existence, nag at him.  While fighting off the bad guys, he and his group of friends begin to realize the futility of using the tactics of their enemies.  Slowly, the elements of the good fight, the right way to do things, begin to emerge.

It is a fairly classic theme, but with some twists and turns.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

I started writing when I was sixteen.  I don’t recall the particular document, but I’m sure it was an essay regarding some unrequited fascination with a girl.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Plaid.

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

It was never a concern how I got published, only that I did.  I tried submitting to large publishers, medium publishers, small publishers, contests, and so on.  I considered self-publishing and partnering with another author.  Sending out proposal after proposal, I not only knew the names of the staff at the local UPS store, I knew their kids’ names.  Fortunately, I connected with a really great publisher.

Are you working on anything new at the moment? 

While making the rounds with the first one, I wrote a second novel in the setting of the 1997 flood in Fargo, North Dakota.  Other than polishing up a couple of short stories for contests, I plan to concentrate on marketing Particular Stones.

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

I like silence and coffee.  I may play some mood provoking music to get myself in the right mindset.  Never setting goals, some days I could put out ten pages, some days half a paragraph.  I wrote Stones during a long North Dakota winter.  I couldn’t believe how much fun it was.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know? 

Through randomly selected names and physical descriptions, I try to keep characters as fictional as possible. However, I doubt if it is ever totally possible.  Take “goodness” for example.  You can learn about good people from reading, but one’s experience with goodness probably came from being associated with a good person at some point.  I sometimes find myself borrowing traits from one or more people I have known and combining them into one character.  The characteristics of the villains in my book were borrowed from famous bullies I knew in my youth.

What color is your umbrella?

I don’t own one.

Who is your favorite author and why?

I have read many great authors over the years.  However, I will have to go with J.D. Salinger as an all-time favorite.  I first read Catcher in the Rye when I was seventeen, and at least twice a decade since.  It’s interesting how the book changes depending on what stage of life one is at.

What was the last book you read?

I am currently finishing up House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski.  Horror, not my usual cup of tea, but presented in an incredibly unique style.

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

I will take your question a degree further and say that I usually write about locations where I have lived.  I find it difficult in describing a scene looking at Google Images.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

I engaged the services of a past co-worker, Linda of TC Expert Editing, for manuscript preparation.  She did it chapter by chapter via email, and then did the final review of the entire book as a whole.  She was great to work with and a valuable asset to this project.  She even laughed at my email jokes! (Well okay, just one of them, but it was really funny.)  Then I just started researching and writing to markets.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Gosh, Jen, I could name every track on the soundtrack CD.  But if I had to pick one song, it would be Springsteen’s “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy).”

Where can people find your book?

The book will be released later this summer.  Please check for availability at the publisher’s web site Martin Sisters Publishing or my site David J. Kirk

Can we read a little excerpt?

“Good,” his smile fading, “now I want to tell you why I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me, sir … I mean, Tom?  I had no idea you wanted to see me.”

“I know.  Dan, I need a new student, I’m afraid I need you a lot more than you need me.”

“Why?  I thought Candolene was your student.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Jimmy, but he’s been with me a year now.  I think I’m at a wall with him.  Jim’s lost, lost as a person, lost in that stupid alcohol he drinks.  They got to him.”

“Who?”

“Them.  That wretched society machine we got operating in Centura, those self-perpetuating morons who want to mass-produce plumbers and chemists and soldiers.  I’m on the faculty, Dan, at the university.  Do you have any idea how many doctoral candidates we have in philosophy right now?  One!  And he’s draft age.  The master’s program has three.  Pickin’s are slim.”

“Tom, I don’t know a darn thing, other than your book, about philosophy.  I took the intro course in seventh grade.”

“Heard about you, Dan.  You have qualifications.”

“I’m an electrician.”

“It’s not the field you’re in; it’s the character.”  He leaned forward, “You look and wonder and are curious, Mr. Kelley.  You have a lot of questions.  You can both question God about why he puts clowns like Bus Quint in the world and yet see heaven in a young French girl’s eyes.  And I’m not trying to recruit a disciple, nor am I feeling sorry for the poor orphan boy.  This is all for purely selfish reasons.  We need thinkers, Kelley, there aren’t many left!”

You can learn more about Dave by visiting his profile on the Martin Sisters Publishing website.  He would also be thrilled if you found his Facebook page or his Twitter.

Sneak Peek at Soundtrack

by Jen Barry, posted in Authors, Books

When we reached the gymnasium, I did exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do–sprawled out on the bottom row of bleachers and batted my eyes like a fangirl.  Okay.  Not exactly.  I did sit on the first row, but my posture was decidedly rigid.

He disappeared into the locker room and returned a moment later with two basketballs.  When he saw me locked tightly onto the seat, he smirked.

“Come on, Honeycutt.  Show me what you can do!”

Two times in a matter of minutes, he surprised me by knowing my name–not just my first name, but my nickname and last name, too.  That thought was crowding into my mind, which had frozen at the sight of his smirk.  No one deserved to look that good while smirking.

When I still didn’t move, he shoved the ball into my stomach, just as he would have with one of his teammates.  I stared at it, running my fingers over the pebbled texture for a moment, before lifting my eyes to his incredulously.

“You can’t be serious.  I can’t even bounce it.”

Travis snorted out a laugh and demonstrated the exact bounce that I feared.  “It’s called ‘dribbling’.  First lesson.”

At his cocky tone, I stood and gave him my own smirk.  “Dribbling sounds like something a baby does.  I’m just going to call it bouncing, if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever, Bex.  Just bounce the ball.  It’s not hard.  All you have to do is drop it; it’ll bounce on its own.”

Well, that didn’t sound too hard at all.  I held the ball out and dropped it, prepared to catch it when it came back to me.  Instead of hitting the polished floor with the rubbery ping that Travis’s ball made, it hit the toe of my shoe and rolled away, looking about as dejected as I felt.

To his credit, he didn’t laugh.  Instead, he handed me his ball and ran after the one I’d dropped.

“Okay, so there’s a bit more to it than that,” he admitted when he returned.  “Here, I’ll show you.”

He set his ball down gently and then stepped behind me.  I started to face him, but he stopped me with a gentle hand to my shoulder.  What happened after that felt so surreal that I had to convince myself for days that it had actually happened.  Without hesitation, Travis moved closer until he was completely flush with my back.  My breath caught when I felt him bend his knees a bit behind me, and then he nudged my right foot forward with his.  His knee pressed into the back of mine, causing me to adopt a stance similar to his, but I knew I wasn’t quite as graceful.  I leaned forward a bit, mostly to escape the heat of his body, but he pulled me right back to him.

“Hold still for a second,” he muttered.

I couldn’t breathe.  Every inch of him was molded to me as he perfected my stance.  Even with him crouching behind me, I was overwhelmed by the size of him.   Slowly, he reached out and ran his right hand along my arm until he reached my wrist.  It was a feeling that I never wanted to forget–not for the rest of my life.  I closed my eyes and breathed in, surrounded by him, his warmth, his smell… Goosebumps prickled in his wake, and I fought off a shudder.

“There.”  Satisfaction oozed from him as he stepped away and admired his work.  “Stand like that as you dribble–”

“Bounce,” I interrupted.

He bit back a smile and rolled his eyes.  “Bounce.  Fine.  You won’t hit your feet that way.”

Soundtrack cover shoot with Katie Marcario and Blake Mundell