I am open to answering any questions that come my way, within reason of course. Below are real questions asked by real people like you! If there is anything you would like to know about me, my writing, my hobbies, or tea addiction, feel free to ask! Who knows, your question may end up here!
Jess E.
Would you like to travel to the past or the future?
Past or future? Well, the future is a mystery, so if I went forward, it would be a surprise! Would there be flying cars, teleporters, crazy fashion trends, aliens walking among us? I will admit, the alien thing would be cool. Always wanted to know about life beyond our own.Ana S.
How did you come up with the plot?
When I started Ghost, there was no end game. It was never supposed to go past a short story, but once a story gets stuck in my head, I need to build upon it. So that’s what I did. After two weeks of thinking about Ghost and Anna, I couldn’t help myself. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Then I realized that the story needed to have an ending. That was my first issue with creating a plot. Where was I going? At that point, nowhere. I was writing for the sake of writing. Sitting at my desk, staring at my screen, an idea had to pop up eventually right? Long hours of lost glaring led to nothing. Rereading had to be my answer. Develop the relationship between Ghost and Anna into something more than a man and his hostage. Bring out my main character’s aversion to connections and both reward and punish him for his choices. Don’t give him what he wants. Then little details rose where I could twist them into creating a bad guy. Of course, the big bad was hiding behind the scenes and he needed a face. But how? Now, I neglected to mention that I have my idea notebook. This little notebook goes with me everywhere. I wish I was joking. After weeks of thought when I went out somewhere, probably to lunch or visiting my mom, I can’t remember exactly, it hit! Hard. How to close the story and tie in all the details to make Ghost make sense. My process, if you haven’t guessed, is extremely scattered. My plot does not make its appearance when I start the story. My writing does not begin with a lesson to be learned. It is something that builds as the story progresses. As I write, the story tells me what it wants to become. In a way, it is the story that reveals its plot to me. Not me revealing the plot to the story.What drives you to write?
I’ve always had a creative mind and when a story gets stuck in my head, I have to get it out. After I discovered how much fun writing was, I embraced it. Writing became an outlet. Whenever I was mad, I wrote. Frustrated, I opened Word. Sad, ink flowed over paper. Happy, my fingers quickly tapped on the keyboard. Overwhelmed by any emotion, I have to let it out. Plus, writing is fun! Why wouldn't I do it?Who are your role models – living and deceased?
My grandfather, who had sadly passed some years ago. He was hardworking, driven, intuitive, and
smart. There was this way he went about tackling life’s obstacles that made him very influential within his circles. I cannot describe how much I admired my Grandpop because, for me, he is one of the few people that is difficult to put into words. The best way for me to describe him is this: if you met him in person, then you would understand the type of man he is.
Biggest challenge, the fear. It was a huge leap of faith to let my work go. I don’t like sharing my writing with anyone and stepping out from under my metaphorical rock to hand my story over to someone else had me quaking in my boots, even if I had a smile plastered on my face. One of the silly things I firmly believe in is that if you dig into a story deep enough, you can learn all about the author. Why would I want to share my secrets? Oh right, it is just a story and I have to keep reminding myself that.
“Story.”
“What story?”
“You know, this story, not that one.” Very informative and definitely identifies what I’m doing.... Not. So, the first story I wrote is called Blood from Another and shall remain eternally incomplete. However, since it is my first work and was where I practiced this art, Blood from Another will always have a place in my heart. As for the others, I have seven total, so here are three with a short synopsis for each:
What quotation from your own work inspires you?
The quote from my own work that inspires the most is not something I have written in a story. It is a phrase that I coined years ago, back in January 2003, and has ever since been sitting in the back of my mind constantly reminding me that there is always something more, always something beyond the now. “There is an adventure inside all of us that if we find it and accomplish it, life will be a bit more exciting.”Rebecca L.
How do you convert the pictures in your head to words?
It’s not easy, that much is true. Imagine trying to describe an apple to a blind person. “It’s an apple.” Ok, but does a blind man know what an apple looks like? “It’s red.” Hello, he’s blind! What does the color red look like? You cannot say the apple is red like a rose or a cherry. “Uh, it’s tasty, you know, crisp and juicy.” Alright, maybe one description could make sense to the blind man. But what if he has never eaten an apple? Is there another way to describe an apple? Yeah. Here is where you will end up sitting there thinking for seemingly hours on end trying to describe a simple fruit to someone who cannot see through your mind’s eye. You will write and erase probably a million times before you finally have that ah-ha moment. “An apple is a simple and elegant fruit. One whose color reminds you of the emotion that you experience in the heat of passion. Through love. Through anger. Through the intimacy of holding your lover’s hand that brings forth a sensation that defines your longing for intensity. A craving you know will be sated through a taste. So when you finally grasp the round apple in the palm of your hand, you are able to take that bite, breaking the smooth, delicate skin, rewarding your tongue with a crisp juice and a satisfying crunch where you cannot help but smile as you chew the slightly grainy flesh.” Seems like overkill huh? But do you mentally see the color? Can you experience what that apple made the eater feel? Could you feel the joy a simple apple could bring? That is a writer’s job. To make you experience these phantom sensations as if you were performing the action itself by describing those sensations are from a mental image meant for a story. It’s about taking the image in your head and adapting it into a form for your readers. A good writer should be able to recognize that not every detail they see can be passed on so we must select the most important ones and translate. Try doing that for a few hundred plus pages. A lot of work in an attempt to pass on a modest mental picture.What inspires you to share your stories with others?
Honestly, it absolutely terrifies me. I’ve been writing as a hobby since my third year in college and now is when I chose to tell the world what I do. My writing would likely still be hidden within the dark depths of my computer if I wasn’t encouraged by my closest friend. Took a few months since I first met him to say, “Hey, um, I write, so… yeah.” Took even longer to let him read my work. I’m a private person and to let someone come that close to my inner thoughts was simply scary. After he read Ghost, at least one of the earlier edits, he asked why I wasn’t published. Hearing that surprised me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to like my stories. Let alone that much. Knowing that one person liked my work, I swallowed my pride and began my cautious crawl to self-publishing. My friend held my hand through each step while at the same time pushing me forward. When the day came where I hit submit and Ghost went live, he was with me, proud that I was able to share my work with the world. What inspires me? My friend does. Knowing that there are people in this world who would want to read my work made me feel, well, good. Eventually, I learned that out in the world, there is at least one person who needs to read my story. All I have to do is get my work out there so he could find it.What is your biggest reward and challenge as a writer?
Biggest reward, seeing that someone took the time to read my story. The reviews show me what the readers think and in turn, those reviews help me improve my writing. Believe it or not, but despite not liking to share my stories, I actually like to hear what you think. Good, bad, ugly, tell me what my writing does for you. Please give me those reviews!Biggest challenge, the fear. It was a huge leap of faith to let my work go. I don’t like sharing my writing with anyone and stepping out from under my metaphorical rock to hand my story over to someone else had me quaking in my boots, even if I had a smile plastered on my face. One of the silly things I firmly believe in is that if you dig into a story deep enough, you can learn all about the author. Why would I want to share my secrets? Oh right, it is just a story and I have to keep reminding myself that.
Lexi S.
Where did you come up with your characters?
Ghost and Anna appeared in a Starbucks. Yeah, a Starbucks. What, surprised? Come on, coffee and free Wi-Fi, what else could a writer ask for? Anywho, I decided to do a short story challenge, one short story a day for a week, and, in classic Ghost form, Ghost crept out of the shadows on the last day. Was sitting in a Starbucks brainstorming on the last short story when the idea of a hostage situation came forward. However, I absolutely did not want this story to be from her point of view. I’ve read too many stories like that and needed to go in from a different angle. So how about from his eyes? His thoughts? His reactions? Scribbled down the story and the first seeds of Ghost were planted and thus, Ghost and Anna were born. Only to begin haunting me around every turn because they desperately wanted their story to continue. Slowly, the other characters came forward. As to how the characters were inspired, some inspired by people I knew. Others from a character I saw on TV, or read in a book, or a picture I saw, or even a song I heard. But in the end, I ended with a pretty cool story, yeah?When did you start writing?
Third year in college. A friend of mine started a club and had asked if I would attend the meetings. Being the nice person I am, I agreed. One day she said that she wanted to do something to engage the members. Enter the Character Creation Contest. We each drew three words. Mine were “evil,” “light,” and “squirrel.” Imagine trying to make a character out of those. Oh, and a background story equals bonus points. Bingo. I could do that. I thought about what type of character I wanted and managed to write a little story. Enter the misunderstood evil vampire, Kali, and her a pet squirrel, Acantha! Creative, I know. Day of the character reveal, we “fought” tournament style. By some magic, I made it to the final round. Yay me! Then I lost to a guy with a stomach that ate you and sent you to a gazebo world. A stomach that trapped you in a gazebo! Of all the things! At least they liked my story. Loved it actually. Which inspired me to expand on Kali’s story. That was when I started writing. Shout out to Kate for unintentionally starting my writing adventure!How did the characters become real to you?
It took a little while. I’ve written many stories over the years, most of which will remain hidden in the bowels of my computer far, far away from prying eyes. My characters never became real until Ghost. Ghost wove his way into my heart and I fell in love with him. Since Lost Gun is through his eyes, I’m forced to live inside his head. His thoughts echoed in my mind. I could see him in his life. Experiencing things that molded him into the man on those pages. He had a lifetime of experiences before I found him. Or did he find me? The more I wrote, the more real he became. Now, when I talk to people, Ghost is real. Anna is real. Samuel is real. They have history together! And it is up to me to share their story.What is your imagination process?
Imagine a room full of balloons and each is filled with magical fairy dust. It takes one little thing to act as the needle, a conversation, picture, song, whatever it may be. When that needle gets too close to a balloon, pop! Fairy dust bursts through that room as an idea is released! If that idea does not dissipate into thin air and the dust sticks to my head for longer than a week or two, I start writing. First sparks of inspiration can be silly and easily forgotten. To fight this memory loss, I scribble in my little idea notebook. And I mean scribble. Half my notes look like chicken scratch. Surprised I can read my own handwriting. Once the scribbling has been translated, take those ideas and write, write, and write. Build something from them. Don’t stop. Not even for food. Then I’ll slam head first into a wall because evil writer’s block strikes. This is the absolute worst for me. Writer’s block kills my writing buzz. I’ll go back and reread and edit. A lot. Maybe jump far ahead to another scene that I had thought about before that will have no attachment to where I left off. I’ll flip through the pages of my notebook. Listen to music. Read books. Join in a crazy conversation. Do something random and probably stupid. Anything to jumpstart my imagination. Sometimes a swift kick in the behind is needed, though not literally. Eventually, the fog fades away as another fairy dust balloon pops. Blanks fill in. Scenes connect. A plot forms. Characters’ conversations start up again. When I realize that I’m near the end of the story, I grow sad. I don’t want it to end. Ending a story is the second worst. As I’m sitting there dreading closing the door, another idea usually arises and if you know me, I will grab ahold of that idea and use it to start againWhat other series have you written? What are they about?
The one you may know about is my Lost Gun series starting with Ghost and the novella, Bartender. Two more are in the works, Phantom and Specter. Maybe even a few more novellas if Lost Gun is well received? Let’s see, what else? There are a many other stories I have written and I’ve titled all of them because what’s a story without a title? It’s like having a pet with no name! That’s insane! Why would I do that to myself? I can hear the conversation now. “What are you working on?”“Story.”
“What story?”
“You know, this story, not that one.” Very informative and definitely identifies what I’m doing.... Not. So, the first story I wrote is called Blood from Another and shall remain eternally incomplete. However, since it is my first work and was where I practiced this art, Blood from Another will always have a place in my heart. As for the others, I have seven total, so here are three with a short synopsis for each:
- Lost Soul – A Caster is someone who protects the Souls of the dead from Wraiths which live by devouring Souls. Amelia is a Caster who accidentally runs into a Wraith at the mall, then she suddenly begins seeing Rhys everywhere. Meanwhile, she comes to realize that her skills are not those of a normal Caster, but part of her blood. When a Wraith plan involving her kidnapping is discovered, Rhys comes to warn her. Will the Wraiths use her for food? Or does what flow through her veins become her saving grace?
- Red Days – Claire knows she’s a damphyr. So does her best friend Nik. Since her mother passed away, she has kept to herself in the middle of nowhere Ohio, helps out old Mr. Higgenson on his farm, and fixes her home. Oh yeah, Claire also only knows what happens every other day. During her “red days,” Claire’s vampire side takes over and Nik goes from best friend to guardian. Life was simple. Life was sweet. That was, until a knock on the door from a handsome stranger has Claire’s vampire waking up. Alex was no good boy, oh no, he is a vampire with a royal bloodline and a playboy reputation. Nik becomes extremely protective of Claire, but when she learns that Nik too is a vampire, the truth of her absent father comes forth. A truth that places her life at risk.
- Shadows – Shades and Normals. Shadows and Charges. Normal humans live with Shades, humans with metal bars implanted on the sides of their heads, slipping in and out of their society. No one finds their presence odd since the Shades are monitored by S.R. Mila is one of the lucky few Normals to be selected for a Shadow. Of course, once she receives her mark and the Shadow with it, her father tells her to keep her selection secret. She even keeps her Shadow hidden from her closest friends. Though the Shades around her know of her Shadow, but they keep quiet. Meeting Scott, however, Mila fights her attraction to this Shade. After an incident where Mila learns a truth about her family both her parents had kept hidden, Mila becomes torn. Will she be able to leave everything behind, including Scott? Or go to live the life of travel she has always wanted?
- Forgotten King – (Dethroned, Caged, Bound) Deo, demons who have disguised themselves as humans, walk among us. They feast on human blood, like the vampire, only worse. They are monsters. Capable of transforming into a demon that reflects their inner self. Incubus, succubus, devils, beasts built only to feed. When they crave blood, those seemingly human eyes turn red. Favorite weapon, claws that rip apart the weak. Fangs drip with the blood of their victims. The smell of copper and war drives me wild. Strong devouring the weak. That is how it should be. That is how I became King. I ruled the deo! All feared my name. It was natural that some would resist. It was fun destroying them. Of course, when I was captured, they did not sever my head, no, they did the one thing that was a fate worse than death. Trap me within my own body. Unable to release my demon. Unable to feed on blood without pain. Another slap to my face was the guardian they have watching over me. Watching, waiting for me to slip so he can destroy me. Another deo was my guardian, pathetic. They all are! Humans! Deo! I am the one with power! I should be feared! Yet, here I am. Walking amongst humans, them unaware of what I’m capable. Of who I am. When I see that eager female deo begging for her brother’s acceptance, I take my chance. With her, I can reclaim my throne. With my Knight, the world will fear my strength. I am King!
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