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!
Views: 28
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Crime, David L. Wallace, Paranormal, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Interview Frederick L. Malphurs Author of Dr. Fox
Give a warm welcome to Frederick L. Malphurs, author of A Year in the Life of Dr. Fox.
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 Frederick L. Malphurs and his book A Year In the Life of Dr. Fox.
What defines you as an author? As a person? Are they one in the same? I am interested in nearly everything: people, places, situations, issues. Probably the same thing that defines me as an author is true of me as a person.
What inspired this particular story? As a child I watched the Disney television series, later as an adult, in El Fuerte, Mexico, in the hotel courtyard there was a nearly full size statue of Zorro which instantly rekindled my interest in Zorro and in writing a novel on same which as the original Zorro is trademarked protected, the story had to move away from the television and movie Zorro and it did.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block? I am lucky in that I have not experienced writer’s block, at least as I understand it. I am more on the opposite side, writing away on stuff that will need to be heavily edited or placed in a deep pending file.
Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why? Meanie Mouse. We need a woman superhero who isn’t bulletproof and uses her intellect and personal sense of right and wrong to at least try to make things right.
What inspired you to write? A lot of reading, probably, and then something popped inside my head.
How long have you been writing? In my first career as a health care manager and then executive, I wrote a lot of business related stuff: memos, case studies, investigations, reports, etc. But, that job was so demanding, I had little time to write fiction, I would start, have to stop, and months might go by before I got back to it.
Did you tell friends and family that you were writing a book? Or did it take a while to come out and tell friends and family you were a writer? I was totally open about it.
Do you see yourself in your characters? Yes, health care management and a mostly disfunctional family life while growing up gave me a lot of characters, a daily view of behavioral health issues, the variation of the human experience and intellect, etc. which I realized was a rich source of material for writing.
What do you want your readers to take away from your books? That reading my books was worth the experience. Then maybe, some reflection on what things are as they are and how society could be improved.
Where do your story ideas come from? If they come to you in the middle of the night, do you get up and write them all down? From my life experiences, my dreams are mostly about missed airplane connections, late to meetings, and that sort of thing. Many years ago, I tried to wake up and write down ideas that occurred to me in the middle of the night. Those notes invariably were jibberish, which I suppose is a sign of the state of my mind during the night.
If writing is your first passion, what is your second? Physical fitness. After a lifetime of work which involved multiple meetings on a daily basis, raising a family, and running for airplanes, physical fitness did not get done, so now I go to the gym four or five times a week, most of the time.What do you like to do when you are not writing? Reading, some travel, watching major sports events such as Gator football and basketball games, the Masters, the Superbowl, etc.
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do? I would go to the White House, any President, wander around, and most importantly try to listen to every word.
A Peek Between the Page of A Year in the Life of Dr. Fox.
An Untimely Arrest, January 5
Father Teodoro de la Vega was sitting in an ancient wooden swivel chair, working on revisions to his doctoral thesis Methodism in America, when he heard the soft buzzing of his cell phone. He picked up the phone, swiveling his chair around before he spoke to look out the high tiny window in his cramped office at the far end of the Culiacan Cathedral. “This is Father De La Vega.”
“This is Lieutenant Flores of the federal police. We are trying to notify the family of Diego Sanchez. He has you listed as the family contact.”
Father Teodoro’s eyes stayed fixed on the fronds of the tall palm tree growing in the cathedral’s backyard. “Yes, I am Diego’s brother-in-law. How can I help?”
“I am sorry to inform you that your sister’s husband, Diego Sanchez, was arrested this morning and is currently being held in custody in Culiacan prison.” The lieutenant sounded subdued, deferential to the Catholic priest, sympathetic.
Father Teo was silent for several moments. “Oh my God, this is a shock. My sister was kidnapped three days ago, on January 2. She and Diego have three young children, and now this.” Father Teo sighed deeply and made the sign of the cross.
“I know about the kidnapping. I am so sorry. It seems your family is suddenly confronting great adversity. I can assure you that all the police agencies are working diligently to find your sister.”
Father Teo took several deep breaths before responding. “Would it be possible for me to go see Diego now?”
Lieutenant Flores was silent a moment. “Yes, under the circumstances, I’m sure there must be many arrangements to be made for the children. I will contact the prison and get your visit authorized.”
Father Teo stood up, suddenly feeling dazed; his jaw clenched as his eyes riveted on the small statue of Jesus he kept on his desk. “I am on my way to the prison now.” He next forced himself to call his brother, Eduardo, and their father, Alfonso. He quickly concluded each call with “I’ll call you back as soon as I learn anything.”
Father Teo quickly jogged down the hall and across the cathedral campus to his car. Outside, he stood beside his car and gazed upward for several moments, praying for his sister, Diego, and their children. Then he got into his battered Toyota and headed to the prison.
Father Teo sat in the visitors’ waiting room for thirty minutes before the guards escorting Diego burst through the door on the prisoners’ side.
They pushed Diego ahead of them and roughly shoved him into a chair. One of them said, “Sit down and shut up!” to Diego and waved a finger under Diego’s nose. Father Teo moved quickly to the cubicle opposite Diego and sat on the hard plastic chair in the narrow enclosure.
“Teo, tell me about my family.” Diego was somber and seemed to have physically shrunk since the last time Teo had seen him only three days before.
Diego’s usual state of casual good humor had been replaced with a pallid and tense facial expression. His eyes were tearing and moved only indirectly in the direction of Father Teo; he could not maintain eye contact for more than a moment. His eyes, now dark and sunken, slowly roamed the brightly lit room: floor, walls, ceiling, Father Teo.
“We have had no contact with Tina’s kidnappers. We are doing everything we can to find her. Eduardo and I are moving heaven and earth to find her.
The kids miss her and are understandably upset. How are you?”
“I am depressed as hell. I’m scared out of my mind. I am so grateful to you and Eduardo.” Diego dipped his head and nervously checked the position of the guards. “Please do everything you can to get these charges dropped and get me out of here somehow.”
“Of course you are depressed. Anyone would be in these circumstances.
My father is talking to lawyers right now. Your arrest has come as a complete shock to all of us.”
“I am embarrassed and stunned by my arrest too, Teo. Please tell my mother and the children that I love them, but I do not want them to come here. Seeing me in this place will only make things worse for them. Have you learned anything about the charges against me?”
Father Teo chewed on his lip. He hesitated while a myriad of happy family memories flooded his thinking: Diego and Tina’s wedding, the births of their three children, and many family gatherings. “You are accused and charged with consorting with narco-criminals by laundering their illegal earnings, aiding the cartel’s hit men by providing them with shelter, engaging in a criminal conspiracy, and accepting financial assistance from the Pacific cartel. I’m still in shock, Diego. I don’t understand this. Is any of it true?”
Diego squirmed in his seat and dropped his head to the Formica countertop of the little booth. “Oh my god,” he said this loudly, and the nearest prisoners on Diego’s side of the barrier turned in his direction. When he sat back up straight, his hands clutched his heart. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Adventure, Dr. Fox, fiction, Frederick L. Malphurs, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 3 comments.
Cashed out by Michael H. Rubin
Give a warm welcome to nationally known speaker and humorist as well as a full-time attorney, Michael H. Rubin , author of Cashed Out released on August 15, 2017!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and see about Michael H. Rubin’s latest release, Cashed Out.
One failed marriage. Two jobs lost. Three maxed out credit cards. “Schex” Schexnaydre was a failure as a lawyer. Until three weeks ago, he had no clients and no cash — no clients except for infamous toxic waste entrepreneur G.G. Guidry, who’s just been murdered, and no cash, except for the $4,452,737 Guidry had stashed with him for safekeeping.When Schex’s estranged ex-wife, Taylor, is accused of Guidry’s murder, she pleads with Schex to defend her. He refuses, but the more he says no to Taylor, the deeper Schex gets dragged into the fall-out from Guidry’s nefarious schemes, ending up as the target of all those vying to claim Guidry’s millions for themselves.
A nationally-known speaker and humorist as well as a full-time attorney, Michael H. Rubin has had a varied career. He has also been a professional jazz pianist in the New Orleans French Quarter, a radio and television announcer, and an adjunct law professor. His debut novel, “The Cottoncrest Curse,” received the Book-of-the-Year Gold Award at the annual meeting of the American Library Association in 2015 and was named the top thriller/suspense novel published by a university or independent press. Rubin is the winner of the Burton Award, given at the Library of Congress, for outstanding writing, and is a member of the Author’s Guild, the International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, and the International Association of Crime Writers.
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Cashed Out.
Views: 277
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Bayou Thriller Series, Cashed Out, Michael H. Rubin, Thriller by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
Sevyn by Author Renee Dyer
Give a warm welcome to Renee Dyer, author of Sevyn a Thriller/Romantic Suspense!
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 Renee and Sevyn.
When life hands you impossible choices, can you become the man you want to be? Now there’s a question and I have a few more for you Renee!
What inspired this particular story? To anyone who reads Sevyn, they may find it hard to believe, but the first time I heard 7 Years by Lukas Graham, the entire story line started flowing through my mind. I called up my friend, Amy, and told her what I was thinking. She was so excited for me to write a darker book, but it took me eleven months of letting the story play out in my head before I decided to start typing.
Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why? Oh, that would definitely be Mickayla (Mick). She’s sassy, wild, and I never know what she’ll say. Although I haven’t written her book in the Healing Hearts Series yet, she has found her way into all the ones I have written. I can’t wait to devote an entire book to her. My stomach is going to hurt from all the laughing. Oh, sounds like my kind of book!
How long have you been writing? I can’t remember a time I wasn’t writing. As a child, it was an outlet. Writing allowed me to escape when I felt awkward, which was quite a lot. I never quite knew what to say to others, but I was always great at putting how I felt on paper.
Did you tell friends and family that you were writing a book? Or did it take a while to come out and tell friends and family you were a writer? Other than my husband, my mom was the first one I told. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone in my family when I started writing books. I told my mom when I was eight that I would write books someday.
And so you did!
Tells us what’s Sevyn about.
Born into rival drug cartels, Kevyn Zozlov and his best friend Esperanza Torres defy the odds, finding laughter in a world full of pain. Ripped away from her at a young age, Kevyn has to learn the difference between family, loyalty, and obedience. Fear keeps him focused each day. Memories fill his dreams at night.
Torn between the death he sees daily and what he believes is right, he struggles to decide the kind of man he wants to be—until a promise he makes to his mother, the person he loves more than anyone, changes everything.
“Get out of here and find Esperanza. Promise me.”
Now, Kevyn has to figure out how to make his way to the only friend he ever had—the one person who understands his damaged world. Will she welcome him back with open arms, or turn him away, leaving him more lost than he already is?
With time against him, can he find Esperanza and his happiness, or will he be another casualty of the drug war, buried in an unmarked grave with no one to mourn his loss?
A snippet from Sevyn:
There is no way to explain the punch in the gut you feel seeing someone murdered. The sound of the gun shooting. The way their head jerks. That moment before the body realizes that its essence is gone, eyes staring nowhere, devoid of all emotion, before finally crumbling to the ground. Blood dribbles from their lips and pools on the floor. It’s like your soul performs one last dance before wrenching away to find out what lays beyond. One last morbid, horrific waltz, it gripped onto me and imbedded every detail into my young mind.
I would never be the same.
He was really gone.
I never wanted to be responsible for someone’s death, but I was responsible for this. My father was dead because of me. As he laid there, his eyes devoid of life, no longer able to judge me—hate me, I looked up to the sky and silently thought to my mother…justice is yours.
About the Author:
From a young Renee Dyer had a love of writing, starting with a doodle pad at age four that morphed into journals. Poetry became short stories and short stories a novel. Although she’s surrounded by males all day having three sons, a husband, and a hyperactive chocolate lab, she still finds time to be herself by escaping into the fantasy of reading and writing romance. That is, until she needs a male’s perspective and garners eye rolling from her husband at all of her questions. Renee is a true New Englander. You can find her screaming profanity at the TV while the Pats play and cuddling under blankets during the cold seasons (which is most of them), reading a good book. She doesn’t believe snow is a reason to shut things down, only to slow down and admire the beauty. Ask her anything. She’s an open book—pun fully intended.
Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/AuthorReneeDyer
Twitter https://twitter.com/ReneeDyerAuthor
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/reneedyer
Pinterest Page: http://www.pinterest.com/reneedyerauthor/
Google + Page: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ReneeDyerRomanceAuthor/posts
Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7529668.Renee_Dyer
It was wonderful having you with us today Renee. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Sevyn!
Views: 290
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Dark Romance, Renee Dyer, Suspense, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 5 comments.
