A Moment with Carol Oates

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

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.

A Moment with Catherine Mesick

Twitter is a beautiful thing, really.  Without Twitter, I wouldn’t be able to follow the day-to-day lives of over eight hundred near-strangers.  Without Twitter, I couldn’t let over five hundred near-strangers know when I’ve managed to set off the new alarm system in my house (still not yet.)  And without Twitter, I wouldn’t have met last week’s featured author, Tess Hardwick, or today’s featured author, Catherine Mesick.

After reading the synopsis on GoodReads and Amazon, I knew I’d have to give it a whirl, because she mixes some of my FAVORITE THINGS–namely Ireland, fantasy, and history.  I’m dancing on the edge of my seat, ready to dive in, but I thought I’d introduce her and Pure to you so that you might discover this book along with me.

Catherine was kind enough to answer a few questions–you’ll recognize them, as I can only be original once, apparently.  Fortunately, she’s clever, creative, and funny, so they seem like entirely new interview topics.  Enjoy the interview, check out Pure, visit her profile pages, and show some warm support for another indie author!

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

Thanks for inviting me to be a part of Life in Words!  In my book, Pure, sixteen-year-old Katie Wickliff discovers that she has an unusual – and mystical – heritage.  She is descended from the Sídh of ancient Ireland – through her Russian mother.  She also discovers that her town is being stalked by a supernatural creature, who is picking off people one by one.  Shortly after the trouble begins, Katie meets the handsome William – who just might be a vampire.  As the disappearances mount, Katie is forced to confront a terrible question: can she trust William – or is he behind the disappearances?

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

The first thing I remember writing was a story in elementary school titled Christina’s Christmas.  It had a red construction paper cover, and I stapled it in the center to make it into a ‘book.’  It was about a girl who wants a kitten for Christmas, and in a shocking turn of events, she receives the kitten at the end.  I believe the whole point of it was to give my parents an incredibly subtle hint.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

You know, I thought I knew the answer to this question.  My instinctive response was ‘plaid,’ but then as I looked around my house, I realized that I have quite a few stripes, but no plaid at all.  So, the answer turns out to be ‘stripes.’

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

Interestingly enough, publishing independently was suggested to me by someone else.  I had written to a best-selling author, and to my shock, he wrote back to me.  He advised me to go the independent route – he said it was the way the industry was headed.  And even though he was an established traditional author, he was planning to publish independently himself – he was excited about the freedom it would give him.

Are you working on anything new at the moment?

At the moment, I’m working on the sequel to Pure.  It’s titled Ignis, which is the Latin word for ‘fire.’  Katie finds herself in the middle of a war that is brewing between the Sídh and the vampires.  At the same time, a Sídh prince comes to claim her – but Katie is already spoken for.

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

I don’t really have too much in the way of rituals – it’s usually best for me to plunge ahead with my work before I find reasons to procrastinate!  But I definitely have to have music when I write – silence drives me crazy.  I’m not very good with caffeine, so I’m much more of a tea drinker.  And I have a gluten allergy, so Twizzlers, which contain flour, are off limits to me.  But I do love M&Ms and all other forms of chocolate.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know?

I have been advised by some attorney friends that the correct answer to this question is always ‘no’ – however, a few personality traits of people I know may have sneaked in here or there.

What color is your umbrella?

My umbrella is pink and white with a breast cancer awareness ribbon on it.  It may be my favorite umbrella ever.

Who is your favorite author and why?

My favorite author is mystery queen Agatha Christie – I love her intricately constructed puzzles.  I find myself reading her books over and over again, even though I already know the identity of the murderer.

What was the last book you read?

Hercule Poirot’s Christmas by Agatha Christie.

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 actually do all three.  In Pure, the house Katie and her grandmother live in is based on my cousin’s house in Pennsylvania. For the more exotic locations, like Tblisi, Georgia, and Sochi, Russia, I have to rely on research – though I would love to visit the places myself.  Other locations, like the Mstislav mansion, the abandoned monastery, and the underground tunnels in the town of Krov are all inventions.

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’ve actually worked as an editor myself, so I usually do all the editing.  Once I’m done with the writing, I let it rest for a little bit, and then I go back over it and correct it – just as if I were doing it for work.  Then, once the editing’s done, I usually do something to celebrate – it’s a wonderful feeling to have completed such a big, creative project.  I’m typically pretty slow about sending out query letters afterward – it’s so nerve-wracking!

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book? 

Oooh – Written in the Stars by Tinie Tempah.  At the moment I can’t stop listening to this song.  Visit Tempah’s official site, and you can hear the song on YouTube.

Where can people find your book?

My book can be found on Amazon.  You can also download a free chapter there – or you can read the first chapter on my blog.

Can we read a little excerpt?

Absolutely!  Since the first chapter has already been posted online, I thought I would give you something a little further along in the book.  This excerpt is from Chapter 10.  Katie is investigating the disappearances in her town – and an enigmatic smoke trail that only she can see:

            I backed away from the smoke into the surrounding trees.  The smoke did not follow, as I had half-feared it might, and once I was clear of it, I could see that it was concentrated in the open space of the grove.  I looked over the whole mass of the dark, writhing vapor.  There was a line of the smoke trailing back the way I had originally come.  There was another line running deeper into the woods.

            I had seen the smoke at Mr. Neverov’s house and at Mr. Del Gatto’s.  Was it possible the smoke trail had something to do with Gleb?  It certainly wasn’t anything normal.

            I knew I should be getting back to GM, but I wanted to find out what was going on in the forest.  I folded up the yearbook photo and put it in my coat pocket.  Then I followed the smoke trail deeper into the trees.

            I hurried along as fast as I could, dodging branches.  I had been to these woods many times, so I knew them well.  Up ahead, I knew there was a cave.  I had an uneasy feeling that that was where the trail led.

            Following an impulse I didn’t quite understand, I grabbed for my neck, searching for the iron charm William had given me.  I realized that my neck was bare – I had forgotten to put the necklace on that morning.

            I felt a brief stab of panic that I quickly pushed aside.  I told myself that I was being foolish – there was no reason for me to be concerned about not wearing a necklace.

            I hurried on.  The trees thinned, and I could see a clearing ahead.  The cave itself soon came into view.  As I had feared, the trail of smoke wound down into the cave mouth.

            I hesitated for just a moment, and then plunged into the cave.

            The cave was dry – not dank as I had thought it would be – and there was light to see by at first.  I followed the smoke deeper into the cave, and as I moved further from the mouth, the light grew dimmer.

            As the light grew dimmer, the smoke changed, turning white and luminescent.

            I continued to follow the writhing white smoke, even after all the natural light had gone, feeling along the cold stone walls with my hands.  Twice I scraped my fingers across sharp rocks, and shortly after that I stumbled badly, falling on the unforgiving cave floor.  My elbow hurt, and I could feel that I’d torn the knee of my jeans.

            I got up and kept going.

            Eventually, I spied a bright light up ahead, and a sibilant voice filtered up to me.  I couldn’t understand what the voice was saying, though, and I crept closer.  I could see that there was a chamber up ahead.

            Concealing myself behind an outcropping of rock, I peered into the chamber.

            A large man, heavily swathed in furs, was sitting on a flat rock with his back to me, and there was a lantern on the floor in front of him.  The luminescent white smoke that I had followed wound into the chamber and whirled in a ghostly, windless tornado, concentrating particularly around the man in furs.  Across from him, I could see the shoulder of second person.  The face of the far figure was blocked by the bulk of the man in furs, but I was pretty certain that the second figure was the one doing the whispering.  Now that I could hear a little better, the whispered words had a harsh, malevolent sound.  I shivered.

            I still couldn’t understand what was being said, though.  I would have to go closer.

            I had just made up my mind to edge further into the chamber when I felt fingers lace around my wrist, and I was pulled backward forcefully.

            I nearly cried out – but I quickly thought better of it and stifled my scream just in time – the two figures in the cave chamber didn’t seem terribly friendly.  In the dim light from the white smoke, I could just see a large, dark shape looming beside me.  I tugged on my imprisoned wrist, but I found that I was held in a grip of iron.

            I was pulled forcefully to my feet, and then dragged back along the cave tunnel away from the lit chamber.

Catherine will also be featured in a guest blog very soon, so keep watching for more!  Until then, you can visit Catherine on her blog, her GoodReads profile, her Facebook page, or on Twitter.

A Moment with Tess Hardwick

As I learn more about writing and publishing, I meet some truly wonderful people.  Authors, artists, editors, and publishers–we all work together to bring books that teach, inspire, thrill, and entertain.  One of the most delightful people I’ve had the privilege to “meet” is Tess Hardwick, the author of Riversong.  Tess agreed to answer a few questions so you can all get to know her.

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

Riversong is about a woman, Lee Tucker, who must salvage the remnants of her life to begin again. When her husband commits suicide, he leaves her pregnant and one million dollars in debt to a loan shark. Out of options, she escapes to her deceased mother’s dilapidated house located in a small Oregon town that, like her, is financially ruined, heartbroken and in desperate need of a fresh start. Lee’s resilience leads to a plan for a destination restaurant named Riversong, to new chances for passion and love, and to danger from her dead husband’s debt as her business blooms.

A mix of romance, humor, friendship, intrigue and gourmet food, Riversong entertains while reminding you of life’s greatest gifts.

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

I wrote a story in 4th grade (and illustrated it horribly) called Priscilla’s Pizza Parlor. It was about an orphan who inherited her parent’s pizza place and had to run it by herself. Which, if you think about it, is strange, given the restaurant theme in Riversong. I’m obsessed with food, apparently.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Stripes for sure!

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

I’d dreamt of a big publisher, of course. However, when one didn’t magically appear, declaring me the next big talent, I went with a small publisher here in Seattle called Booktrope. In hindsight, I’m so happy I did – it was meant to be – because I get so much attention from them. They’ve been instrumental in developing a marketing strategy, which I most likely would not have gotten at a big house. They worry about figuring out how to sell it while I get to write another book. Plus, they are wonderful, generous people that make me feel like a rock star even though I’m not.

Are you working on anything new at the moment? 

Riversong took so long to find a publisher that I actually had another entire manuscript almost finished by the time it came out. My new novel is an historical fiction, set in the 1930’s in Alabama and Georgia, called Duet For Three Hands. Although still in the women’s fiction genre, it is told from five perspectives, three of which are male. The story was inspired by a germ of an idea in one of my great-grandmother’s letters from that time, along with stories I’d heard about her.  Duet For Three Hands will be out in November 2011 and is in the editing process right now. While I’m waiting for feedback from my editor, I’m working on a third novel about an actress, a cop and an adoption ring!

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

If I’m in my office I always say a prayer, thanking God for giving me the gift of time to work and then I light a candle. But sometimes, I sneak a little work while the kids are watching television or playing and then I’m usually upstairs on my bed with my computer on my lap. I think of that time as stolen, so don’t take the time for my rituals.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know? 

Yes. The character of Linus in Riversong is my best guy friend and has been since we were in college together. He recognized himself right away. There is also a minor character based on someone I know which I can’t reveal! But in general, as David Mamet says, the rest are all elements of my own personality.

What color is your umbrella?

Leopard print. I know. My eight year old daughter picked it out. Awful.

Who is your favorite author and why?

This a hard question for me because I love so many authors. I’ll go back to my standby though, if I have to pick one, and say Harper Lee. To Kill A Mockingbird is my all time favorite. I just wish she’d given us more novels. But maybe after you write a masterpiece you say, yeah, I can retire now, sit on the front porch and watch the bee’s drink pollen from a magnolia bloom and sip sweet iced tea. This is how I imagine Harper, you see. And yes, I call her by her first name in my imagination. However, if I actually met her I wouldn’t be able to utter a word from awe and fright.

What was the last book you read?

I just read a manuscript by a talented writer named Jesse James Freeman. We found each other on twitter and have developed a mutual admiration for one another’s work. His novel, Billy Purgatory is a sci-fi meets vampires with a time zombie thrown in for good measure – not the kind of genre I ever read. However, as is true of all good books, if a story is based in emotional truth and the characters feel real, you are drawn into the story no matter the genre, as I was with Billy.

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

Riversong is a composite of my hometown in southern Oregon and my husband’s hometown in eastern Oregon. They are both small towns, under 5,000 people and very much like the description of the town in Riversong. For my new book I’ve made up several places, based on research and my great-grandmother’s letters.

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 write the first draft fast, 2500 words a day. After it is finished, I write a second draft, where I tighten, move paragraphs and chapters around, and often add more depth and detail. Stephen King says you’re either a putter-inner or a taker-outer. I’m definitely a putter-inner. After the second draft is done to my satisfaction, then I give it to my first group of trusted beta readers. There are four or five of them (not including my husband). I get their feedback and go back in for another round. Now that I have a publisher, I then send it to my main point person there and she and my editor read it and we go in for one more round.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

The River Knows Your Name by John Hiatt

Where can people find your book?

Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com – both Kindle and Nook

Can we read a little excerpt?

She slept fitfully that night and woke late the next morning, hot under her bed covers.  The air reeked of smoke.  Her sunburned skin stung.  She threw back the covers, longing for the feel of water on her scorched arms and legs.  She dressed in a ratty pair of shorts and t-shirt.  On her way down the hall she paused in front of her mother’s room, leaning for a moment on the closed door.  A bird’s summer song drifted in through the open hall window.  Her mother snored softly inside the room.  She put her hand on the doorknob to go in like she did every morning but then hesitated.  The familiar sadness crept in but she forced the feelings inside, scratching her sunburned arms with her fingernails, drawing blood.  The river beckoned to her, as if it called her name.  She withdrew her hand from the door and walked away, down the hall and the creaky stairs, all the while hearing a call to the river, knowing that she would not look back again.

In the yard the sky felt long and hazy, different than the day before.  She knew it would be a scorcher, unusual for June.  She walked the path towards the swimming hole.  At the swing, she paused, holding the rough rope between her fingers, wondering what it felt like to fly over the river and then plunge into the mystery of its waters without fear or hesitation.  She took the worn path to the water, slipping several times but going on anyway, determined to be brave.  At the river’s edge, she inched in, her overheated skin shocked at the cold.  When the water reached her shoulders she moved her arms in a circular motion, pretending to swim, keeping her feet anchored to the sandy floor.  Then she bent her knees, closing her eyes and submerging her head under the water.  She stayed like that with her eyes scrunched closed until the coolness seeped in through her skin and reached the place inside her where hope and despair lived side by side.  She imagined the pain of her childhood diminishing to flecks of ice.  Her feet came off the ground and she opened her eyes.  She was floating.  Her hair streamed out in front of her as her t-shirt ballooned around her body like a safety device, bubbles escaping from her shorts.  The gray floor of the river hosted several red crawfish and a school of minnows swam around her.  Infinitesimal specks of fluorescent algae drifted through the water, illuminated by the pelting sunlight.  She felt triumphant.  She was refreshed, cool at last.

Tess will also feature in a guest blog post in the coming weeks.  You should keep an eye out, because she’s kind, insightful, and a lot of fun!  In the meantime, you can check out her GoodReads profile, follow her on Twitter, and read more about her book on her website.