Interview Jessica Redmerski Author of Everything Under the Sun
What inspired you to write EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN?
Daryl and Beth on the television show The Walking Dead – If Beth had been just a little older, a relationship between them, forced by survival and the post-apocalyptic world they lived in, would have been sweet. But because that could never happen, I made it my duty to tell the love story inspired by them, that grew in my heart.
It seems EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN isn’t a standalone; tell us about WINDS OF THE IRON FEATHER. Is this going to be a series?
It was going to be a standalone when I started, but there is way too much to tell in only one book – but it will definitely not be a series. EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN by itself is like two books in one. There was no possible way to split it up into two books, and there definitely wasn’t a way to wrap everything up by the end. So, halfway through I realized it was going to be at least two enormous books long. It will end up either as a duology or a trilogy, but there certainly shouldn’t be more than three. I’m hoping I can end it in the second book, WINDS OF THE IRON FEATHER. In that book, Thais will become a great figure, and a leader, who through everything she has learned and everything she stands for will begin to change the world. This story as a whole is ambitious, I admit, but it’s in my heart and I desperately need to tell it.
How do you plot your novels? Do you outline?
I never outline because I like to let the story and the characters take me where they want to go. Some authors can outline very well and it works for them, but I can’t do it. It has always felt more natural to me to just go along for the ride and see where it takes me, kind of like in real life, I guess. Some scenes in my books were figured out ahead of time, but not ‘planned out’ ahead of time, and there’s a big difference. The only exception to this method is that I do always know my ending before I begin. (Except with my book DIRTY EDEN)
When did you first realize that you wanted to become a writer?
I started my first novel at the age of thirteen and I’ve been writing ever since. Writing has been the one consistent thing throughout my life and I can’t imagine life without it.
Do you find it easier to write from a male or female point of view? Why? Strangely enough, I feel like the character’s personality flows better through me writing in a male’s POV. I have no idea why!
Why do you write what you write? Contemporary, paranormal, YA, NA, suspense, etc. – I can’t stick to one genre. I love writing all types of stories. Does it work for me? Yes and no. Yes, because I’d start to feel claustrophobic if I had to write in the same genre all the time. No, because I think it confuses my readers that I write everything under the same author name. I regret that decision to this day. My advice to authors considering it: Don’t make this mistake! I’m in the process now of correcting that error.
What would you say is your most interesting writing quirk?
I never stop writing for the day at the end of a scene or sentence, but instead right in the middle of them. This helps me prevent writer’s block and keeps my mind fresh.
Which do you prefer: ebook, hardback or paperback?
Definitely paperback, hands down. I have a Kindle and it’s just not the same. Hardbacks can’t be held comfortably (yes, I bend the spines! I’m totally guilty!). I can’t imagine a world without physical books. It’s depressing to imagine, actually.
Besides writing, what do you like to do in your free time?
Of course, I love to read. I also love the outdoors (hiking, swimming, biking, tennis, etc.), and binge-watching television series’.
If you could only give advise to other writers or aspiring writers, what would it be?
I’d like to point out two things that I believe contributed to my success: kindness and professionalism. I’ve read a lot of horror stories from book reviewers who were verbally attacked by authors because they turned away a review request or gave a bad review, and similar stories about authors and agents. Know in advance that no matter how hard you worked to write your book that it’s not the next bestseller (until it is), that it isn’t better than J.K. Rowling or Stephen King and that you have absolutely no right to make these statements out loud to anyone. Period. And lastly, no matter how much it hurts your feelings or angers you, never reply to a bad review. Ever. Not even if something the reviewer said was 100% wrong. Just don’t do it.
I couldn’t agree more. It’s been great talking with you, I hope you’ll stop by again.
you out of this city.” All I could see in front of me was the scenario: I’d
wait until very late, after most of the city was sleeping, and then I’d dress
her in my military clothes, make her pin up her hair underneath a cap, strap a
rifle to her shoulder, a backpack full of goods on her back, and set her atop
the mare waiting at the stables.
there’s nothing for me anymore,” Thais said, wiping away the lingering tears on
her cheeks. “There’s nowhere for me to go, and no one waiting for me there if
by some miracle I make it alive. My mother and father are dead. My sister”—she
looked up at me, and although I didn’t meet her gaze, I could feel her eyes on
me—“my whole family is dead, and this world is dead and my soul is dead and
everything that was once good and beautiful and right, is dead.”
at her then, her words stirring me.
not true,” I said, and got up from the chair and crouched in front of her. “You
may be the only good thing left in this world, and I’ll be goddamned if I let
your light fade.”
tumbled down Thais’ cheeks.
the gun that had fallen from her hand, tucked it into the back of my pants.
me you won’t try anything,” I said as I went toward the door. “Promise me on
your sister’s soul, that you’ll stay in this room and wait for me.”
are you going?”
your supplies.” I placed my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t open this door for
anyone.” I opened it to blackness; the candles that had been lit in the hallway
had burned down.
Thais called out, and I stopped.
stood up on wobbly legs.
said to get my supplies—are you
sending me away alone?”
thought on it for a moment. I’d never had any intention of going with her. I
couldn’t. Not if I was going to keep others from following her.
finally said. “You’re not going alone. I’ll go with you, at least until I can
get you somewhere safe.”
there anywhere safe, Atticus?” Her
voice was soft, hopeless, and hearing her say my name like that did something
to my heart. “Do you know where you’re taking me?”
sighed. And I looked at the wall.
lied, and then stepped out into the hallway.
before I closed the door I added, “Promise me.”
nodded.
promise,” she said. “I’ll wait for you.”
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged DystopianYA/NA Crossover, Everything Under the Sun, Jessica Redmerski by Tena Stetler with 4 comments.
Interview with Kerry Blaisdell Author of Debriefing The Dead
Give a warm welcome to Kerry Blaisdell, author of Debriefing The Dead which released TODAY! Happy book birthday, Kerry! Psst…. Don’t miss the giveaway listed at the bottom of the post.
Why should we read this book/series and what sets you apart from the rest and makes your book/series unique?
This book is truly the book of my heart. It’s for anyone who loves Indiana Jones *and* Stephanie Plum, Star Wars and Outlander, Harry Potter and Emma. I never fit easily into any “boxes” growing up — I always had diverse interests. I loved history and languages, and also math and science. I loved reading romance, mystery, fantasy, sci-fi and Great Literature. So, after several attempts at writing a “traditional” romance — trying to fit my words into whatever box that entails — I decided to write the kind of book *I* wanted to read. Lo and behold, it turned out others wanted to read it as well. I think many readers also don’t like to be pigeon-holed. If you’re one of us, this series is for you! It blends archaeology with early Christian history, romance with humor, magic and the Other with mystery and a story that, at its heart, is about family and finding one’s place in the universe.
How long have you been writing?
It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true: I’ve been writing my whole life. Some of my earliest memories are of dictating stories to my dad, who wrote them down for me, and then I illustrated them. I still have one that I wrote when I was four — it’s about a princess who decides the prince is a dud and runs off with the dragon instead. When I first met my father-in-law, he said something that stuck with me: You’re either a writer or you aren’t. There’s no middle ground. To quote another wise older man (Yoda, because I am not lying — I really am a Star Wars geek!), “Do or do not. There is no try.” For me, those two statements are/were a reminder that even when I was going through dry spells, and it seemed like getting published would never actually happen, I was/am still a writer, and I will always be a writer, whatever the future brings.
Do you see yourself in your characters?
Of course — I think that has to be a little true, of every writer. But at the same time, they ARE characters, with minds of their own. It’s annoying, actually, when I want them to do one thing, and they absolutely insist on doing something else! Then again, they’ve also saved my butt, time and again, because when I have NO idea where a story is going, they just do their thing, and voilà! I’m back on track.
What do you like to do when you are not writing?
It depends. In summer, I love to work in my vegetable garden, and cook with the results. I also work out regularly, and I like to knit. And, of course, I read! I’m a teacher, so for three quarters of the year, I have limited “free” time, most of which I spend writing or on related activities. So “just” sitting and reading feels like a luxury. I listen to a lot of audiobooks now, which I can do while driving or working out. But it’s not the same, since I’m multitasking. It’s definitely not as relaxing!
If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why?
The ability to sleep. Seriously! I’ve always been a light sleeper, but now I’m at an age where if I wake up, it’s hard to fall back asleep again. I toss and turn, and rarely wake feeling rested in the morning. But at the same time, I can’t sleep in, and am up by six or seven, even on the weekends. (I get up at 4:30 during the week, so I guess six or seven IS “sleeping in,” by those standards… :)) My husband and (mostly adult) children can sleep through just about anything — including me trying to wake them up! I’m totally jealous!!
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: Star Wars (how can titles be shortened to one word? LOL)
Favorite book: Anne of Green Gables
Last book read: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
Favorite color: Purple
Stilettos or flipflops: Flipflops
Coffee or tea: Hot coffee, iced tea
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: All three!
Pencil or pen: Pencil
Favorite song: Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
Streak or not: Not?
Favorite dessert: Pie
Favorite junk food: Chips
Favorite thing to do to relax: Read!
Champagne or gin: Neither
Paranormal or Historical: Both
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: Sneaky Pete
Hot or cold: Cold
POV: 1st or 3rd
I’d die if I don’t have: My family
Review or Not: ?
Click on Cover to read more or purchase!
Tell us a little about Debriefing The Dead
Indiana Jones meets Stephanie Plum in Book 1 of The Dead Series. Set in France and Turkey, this paranormal adventure introduces Hyacinth Finch, a former grave-robber-turned-fence with a problem: She’s half dead, forced by Archangel Michael to steal a powerful relic from Satan himself. She’s also suddenly guardian to her young nephew, whose father’s Mafia family wants him back, at any cost. Running from the Mob, chasing demons, and fending off hordes of dead people—Hyacinth must learn to multitask, to survive her Life after Death!
The only thing Hyacinth wants is her life back. Literally. She and her sister were murdered by Demons, leaving her young nephew, Geordi, to his father’s family in the brutal Sicilian Mob. Then Archangel Michael offers her a deal: recapture a powerful rock the Demons stole, and she can live long enough to find Geordi a safe home. Refuse, and she’ll continue up (or down) to the Afterlife. So, slightly more alive than dead, she heads for Turkey and the Demons, taking Geordi, her mysterious neighbor Jason, and a sexy dead guy only she can see with her. But the hardest part won’t be battling Demons, meeting Satan, or dodging Middle Eastern customs—it will be later, when Geordi is settled, and Michael rips her away again. How can she abandon her nephew? Or can she outwit the Angel of Death himself, and stay with Geordi forever?
A Sneak Peek Between the Pages of Debriefing The Dead
I thought I’d gotten everything, until my fingers brushed against something hard, wrapped in cloth, and oddly warm to the touch. I grabbed it and heaved myself out of the crate, then examined the bundle. It felt like a rock, heavy and solid. Most of the items in this crate were broken pottery shards, from vases and the like. Hard, maybe, but not heavy. Careful not to touch the item’s surface, in case it was valuable after all, I turned it over and shook the covering loose.
Sure enough, it was a rock. Plain, gray, ordinary. About half the size of an American football, shaped like an irregular pyramid, with jagged edges and flat-but-rough surfaces. The only unusual thing about it was its warmth. Like Claude Rousseau. Which is maybe why, against my better judgment, I reached out and touched the very tip of the rock’s pyramid.
And then it shrieked at me, the agony of centuries piercing my ears till I thought my skull would burst, electric shocks searing through my fingers, hand, arm, ripping through my whole body, gripping my lungs and squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I flung the rock away, covering my ears and dropping to the floor, shaking, gasping for air, while still it screamed, on and on and on and on, until I lay huddled on the concrete, red fire burning in my head, blackness filling my soul.
Then everything went silent.
Buy Links: http://bit.ly/KBBooks Amazon The Wild Rose Press
More About the Author:
Kerry has been a writer since before she could read. Her father used to copy down the stories she dictated, most of which involved princesses who got bored with their princes and ran off with the dragon instead.
To this day, she likes surprising her readers. And she still likes dragons! She’s fascinated with the “other”—ghosts, psychic powers, mythical/ mythological beings—and with human relationships and interactions. She loves history, and how it connects with and influences our present and our future, and she also loves a good mystery. And science! But most of all, she loves stories—hers or someone else’s, telling them, listening to them, reading them. Which is why she’s thrilled to be here, writing them for you to (hopefully) enjoy!
She has a degree in Comparative Literature (French and Middle English—think Rabelais, Flaubert, and Gide, side by side with Chaucer, Geoffrey of Monmouth, and the Welsh Triads) from U.C. Berkeley, and a Master’s in Teaching English and Mathematics from the University of Portland. She lives in the gorgeous Pacific Northwest with her husband, two “kids” in their mid-to-late teens, assorted cats and dogs, and more hot pepper plants than anyone could reasonably consume.
To connect with Kerry, visit her website at https://kerryblaisdell.com, or go to http://bit.ly/KerrysVOML to subscribe to her Very Occasional Mailing List (to win free books and learn about upcoming releases).
Kerry will be hosting giveaways on her FB page on May 7th, Click to get entered http://facebook.com/kerryblaisdellbooks
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Debriefing The Dead!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Debriefing The Dead, Kerry Blaisdell, Paranormal Romance by Tena Stetler with 30 comments.
J.L. Sheppard author of Riding Blind
RIDING BLIND
by J.L. Sheppard
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Contemporary Romance, J.L. Sheppard, MC/Biker Romance, Riding Blind by Tena Stetler with 5 comments.
Interview David L. Wallace Author of Preordained
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about David L. Wallace and Preordained. Psssst… don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway below!
Why did you choose the cover concept you did?Preordained is a supernatural, crime thriller and I wanted a cover that would set the right tone and expectations for readers. I chose the angel hair oak tree because, by the light of the moon or against the backdrop of an overcast sky, the branches remind me of Medusa’s hair. The hooded man with a concealed face represents the zealous superstitions, religious beliefs, and supernatural / paranormal predilections in the story.
Why should we read this book/series and what sets you apart from the rest and makes your book/series unique?
There are many layers to that question. The setting of Preordained is in an interesting and unique part of South Carolina that’s steeped in superstitious, paranormal, and supernatural beliefs systems – a fact that limited people in the world at large are aware of about that area. When the idea for Preordained came to me and as I started to flush out the skeleton of the story, I realized it was shaping up to be a combination of a whodunit puzzle with thriller, supernatural, and psychological elements. Because of the number of genres, which set it apart from many novels I’ve read, and before embarking on a year plus journey to compose it, I decided to seek feedback on my idea. I flushed out the outline, put it in book form, and then sent a copy to Kirkus Reviews, Clarion Reviews and Publisher’s Weekly BookLife Prize in Fiction to get their take on it. Their positive feedback reinforced my belief that readers would enjoy and connect with the story.
Who would you recommend this book to and what should readers be aware of before reading it?
The major warning is that if you wear a pacemaker, don’t read it at night. Lol. On a serious note, readers who like novels with any of the following aspects would enjoy Preordained: a whodunit puzzle; thrillers that place the main character in jeopardy with rising escalation throughout; supernatural or psychological leanings.
Do you see yourself in your characters?
I’ve written and published two thrillers. Both have aspects of my character built within the main protagonist. And since I write from within by becoming each of my characters, a part of me is reflected in each of them. This can be difficult sometimes if a scene takes on a sadistic or gory nature, such as in the opening scene of Preordained. For the aspects of the characters that are not part of me, I’m forced to imagine how that character would act. And since what I write comes from my imagination, characters that do bad things in my stories are also a part of me.
Tell us something about yourself and allow us to get to know you. If writing is your first passion, what is your second?
I have a few things that I enjoy. My guitar is one of my closest friends and due to working feverously to complete Preordained, I haven’t touched her in a while. Your question presented me the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted with her.
the vein of Seven and The Devil’s Advocate, it’s the book that launches the
series: a tech billionaire, foretold in biblical events; a cop, ordered to
sacrifice his soul to save his son…
close-knit Murrells Inlet, S.C., a small-town, coastal community with deeply
held spiritual and supernatural belief systems. A serial killer has shattered
his peaceful existence by abducting multiple victims within his county. Young
thugs, backwater drug dealers and the occasional murderer are the most Art’s
had to deal with, but now he must apprehend a predator who FBI profilers can’t
find.
blood to the case and uncovers evidence that calls into question his long held
spiritual and supernatural beliefs. Abraham, the father of faith, had to choose
to either sacrifice his son or disobey a direct order from God. Art must now
make a choice – sacrifice his soul to save his son.
under the echo of his heavy breathing in the night air, he watched his favorite
family’s movements inside their small brown home.
thought about the impression his outfit would make, he’d decided it was festive
enough for the occasion. The complete ensemble consisted of a red and black
head mask, aligned perfectly to the holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth and a
form-fitting, black bodysuit with white wings painted on the back.
contemplated a befitting name for himself and finally settled on Star of David
killer. He liked the way the alias reverberated in his head. It revealed a lot.
It concealed everything. It hinted at his purpose and yet – it withheld the
true essence of his aspirations, keeping them covered in a shroud of secrecy.
He hoped an insightful reporter would have an epiphany and bestow that nickname
on him. It was far more interesting than the one his parents had given him at
birth. He breathed deep and exhaled slowly, taking in the ambience of the
moment. He flexed his muscles. It was time to initiate the events that would
lead everyone to recognize him by his self-appointed moniker.
released his toes on each of his hospital footie–covered feet. Through the
sheer curtains of the dimly lit dwelling, he watched the boy pick up the used
plates from the table, which signaled the parents and their twelve-year-old son
had finished their dinner. He knew them well. He’d cased their dwelling for
years, observing every nuance of their behavior. He sat flushed as he watched
them for the last time, shivering from time to time from the thrill of the
thought of what he was about to do.
bullfrogs kept him company, along with the thought that all he’d longed for,
all that he was meant to be, was about to be on full display on the world stage
in a matter of hours. Like Heinz ketchup, he’d been waiting in anticipation for
a long time for this moment.
the scavengers in the clear sky above him, each casting its shadow across the
moon as it circled. They were his favorite creatures—the redheaded,
black-feathered, and partially white-winged turkey vultures of the Carolina skies.
His outfit mimicked theirs. The birds squawked in the sky, seeming to know his
plan for that evening. They’d followed his vehicle from his home until he’d
parked, and now they circled directly above him. He could feel their hunger and
impatience.
outside his home and scraped the remains of their dinner plates into a slop
bucket on the back porch. He picked up the hog’s food and headed out to the
pigpen, which was located near the backend of their yard.
David killer watched the boy make his evening trek on pigeon-toed feet that
turned inward with each step. Ever since the infant pigs were born, the boy fed
the adult male hog an extra feeding at night to prevent him from dining on his
offspring. That’s right, the daddy hog ate his own children. What a disgusting
breed of animal.
undertakers began to shriek and shrill as the boy moved across his lawn, their
voices echoing in the night.
at their sound and looked to the skies. He stared into the woods directly below
them.
David killer remained as still as a stone as the kid’s gaze seemed to linger on
him for a moment. The last thing he needed was for the boy to detect his
presence and yell out for his daddy. The papa of the family had an itchy
twelve-gauge finger that he didn’t want to deal with that evening.
satisfied, the boy stopped searching the woods and continued his walk.
David Killer glanced overhead at the vultures, angry with them for almost
giving away his position. For their carelessness, they wouldn’t be feeding on
his handiwork that evening, and if they didn’t atone for their misstep, they
wouldn’t partake in any of the festivities on his planned itinerary.
first night—the evening of his coming-out party and the kickoff of his personal
pilgrimage. It was the acknowledgment that the presence within him, who had
compelled him to plan and now execute the initial steps of his mission, had
chosen the right vehicle for the job.
something biting him on his lower legs. Glancing down, he saw by the light of
the rear porch that ants were advancing up his calves. He remained silent and
didn’t move, not wanting to sound the alarm that he was out there in the dark.
A small green garden snake slithered out of the brush toward him. He stepped on
it and crushed its head.
male hog reveled in the slop the boy had dumped into his pen. The female hog
stood to the side with her five remaining piglets cowering under her.
frowned at the stench of the hogs. It wasn’t the last smell he wanted on his
mind before he began his body of work. To get past it, he closed his eyes and
thought of the fragrances inside the boy’s family home, smells that he knew all
too well. He’d
nights there while they slept, enjoying their scents, with his favorites being
the individual smell of each of their worn clothing. The laundry room was a
treasure trove of delights. Each of the family members left their own unique
and enjoyable stains in their underwear. He’d gotten to know the other families
in just as much detail, meticulously taking in their routines and schedules,
getting to know every nuance of each of them.
blade from his waistband and watched Rueben, his first victim, as he rinsed out
the slop bucket with a water hose attached to the rear of his home. He squeezed
the black-handled blade. The paring knife felt perfect in his hand, after
having gone through an exhaustive testing process to find the right cutting
instrument—one with just the right shape and size for optimal carving control
against a moving body. He’d practiced his skills with it for many hours,
initially on cantaloupes, cucumbers, and other fruits and vegetables, until
he’d graduated to successful tests on small gerbils, kittens, and puppies he’d
purchased at various pet stores.
lights went out in the shack. It was time. As usual, Rueben’s parents were more
than likely already fast asleep. Rueben, on the other hand, should be
wide-awake in his darkened room, surfing Internet porn sites by the light of
his laptop. The little fella loved to look at online pussy, but he wouldn’t
live long enough to enjoy any.
step of his preparation process, he extracted a bottle of removable glue from
the front waistband of his outfit and placed another coat over his hands. It
was an additional layer to guard against him leaving fingerprints behind, but
he knew he didn’t need to worry on that score. Over the past year, he’d used
razor blades every month to remove the top layer of skin on each of his
fingertips, making them as smooth as a baby’s ass.
fingerprints.
easily used gloves, but he wanted to touch them, to feel his prey with his bare
hands. He blew on the glue until it dried. Satisfied, he stood, stretched his
legs, and approached Rueben’s home on silent feet.
troubled himself to brush the ants from his lower torso. The stinging sensation
of their bites would serve as a reminder that before that evening, he was once
human.
the Author:
in 2016, he served over 27 years as an information technology professional
working initially for the US Navy, and then the Department of the Navy and
various fortune companies. He’s a UCLA writing program alumnus who writes
mystery thrillers and children stories. He has three wonderful kids who he enjoys
immensely. Writing is his passion and his goal with each story is to capture
the imagination in the opening pages and keep it engaged to the story’s
riveting conclusion.
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Preordained!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Crime, David L. Wallace, Paranormal, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
