by laurenalder

Author Interview: Amber Ausherman

Amber Ausherman author pic

  1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I am a writer first and an author second. I have little care for what is popular. I just want to write what I want to. I want to gain experience along the way that challenges and changes me as an author. I was born in Hagerstown Maryland in 1991. Since I was fourteen I have picked up a pen with years in between.

 

2. What is the title of your current work (WIP or recently published). and what is its genre?

That is complicated question right now. I have republished one book, and recently published two more. I am currently working on Torn which is a horror with sprinkles of romance. I also have one fantasy Falling Darkness book two spiral of events, with my editor. My newest project is a newsletter called the Writer’s Grim highlighting Authors. I think I will talk about the one that is with the editor.

 

3. Is this book suitable for children, or is it adults-only? If there’s mature content, what type of mature content does the book contain?

There is a lot of fighting so it may be teen rated.\\

 

4. What inspired you to write this work?

The idea of giving some who is weak the ability to fight. The idea for the series came to me while I was in middle school at least the Nards did. I can say a box of nerds. I wrote the book twice in high school.

 

  1. What makes this book special, unique, or interesting? How does it “stand out”?

The story still holds its value with underlaying tones. I was told my characters stood out. The imagination for the three unique races and their worlds.

 

  1. Tell us some key information about the main character(s), both protagonists and antagonists.

Monett the antagonists wants everything for herself. She dealt with a lot and expects to be paid in full. Her hate for creed stimulates from what she knows of Nards.

Creed Is naïve and wise to the world. He experienced hate and still does. He has an ability that pertains only to him. He can influence his feelings onto another.

Vincent is the older brother father figure he does not want creed to grow up.

 

7. What is your back cover blurb? Or if you don’t have one yet, how would you pitch your work in 200 words or less?

Vincent, Crystal, and Sue long and hope to rescue Creed. Creed wants to understand his sister in law’s betrayal. Monett longs to rule. The king of the Nards Would like to meet his son. The other Nards are ready for a new ruler. Sizzler finally gets over his infatuation with Jade.

 

8. Share a tempting bit of the plot with us. Is there a particular scene that you’re really excited about? Why does it excite you?

My Character crystal gets powerful! She was a weak character, who went into a dangerous situation. She stood up and fought back instead.

 

9. Share up to 800 words of your current work with us (with an intro of up to 200 words to establish context). The scene that makes me giddy is in chapter five ‘Death of her?’

Crystal is a crybaby character. She has been through some tough times. My character gains the ability to stand up for herself and others. Granted she has a pack of wolves backing her up.

Crystal is a teen who adopted a young girl. The girl’s mother came back and turned out to be the villain. One of her friends is being held captive by a super race of monsters.

She was willing to die, and at the same moment she finds her nervous. The story so far involves a boy, before you roll your eyes. No, they do not end up together. That is not her story. Her story is about finding love fast and having it ripped from her before it even begins. Crystal’s story is the best friend who is a little boy crazy. She picks up the responsibility of a child. Only to have that taken away as well. That is just one of my characters. I was told by my editor the character’s do not stop evolving. People who are weak can become strong. People who are strong can be vulnerable.

Crystal kept an eye on the torches as she kept running. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a set of golden eyes in front of her. Crystal hesitated eyeing the eyes. As she shuddered; the eyes lunged out of the darkness revealing a white ethereal large wolf that had a mystical third eye in the center of its forehead. It opened its jaws jumping at Crystal again. She stumbled back, but the wolf creature grabbed hold of her shoulder biting down hard.

“AHH, no,” She screamed.

The wolf released her circling her.

Crystal grabbed her shoulder. She faced the way she came back toward the darkness.

The wolf growled speaking to her, “I would not do that if I were you. My pack lies in wait for my order.”

” You- you spoke,” Crystal stuttered.

“Yes, I spoke what of it Casalyian look alike.” The wolf snarled advancing.

Crystal lost her fear for a moment studying the beast in front of her. Her smell shifted from a terrified prey to something unusual.

All terror left crystal for instance. She dropped her jaw and cocked her head. Crystal’s heart was beating fast as her eyes lit up.

The wolf hesitated unsure of the change in its prey. He began to circle her with his ears pressed low on his head.

Just as he was getting ready to lunge again for her. Yelps and a rather loud smashing sound echoed from the unlit portion of the hallway.

The pack leader’s ears perked up. “Beta’s omega’s fall back and protect them. No pup left behind.” The Pack leader ordered.

Six pups burst out of the darkness. Behind them Seven adolescent wolves then there were eight adult wolves bringing up the rear. After all the wolves emerged from the unlit hallway, it immediately lit up. A golem the same size as the original stopped moving. The wolves formed a circle around the pups. The adolescent wolves surrounded the pups; then the adult wolves surrounded the young ones. Crystal had faced one just like it a few moments before she went down this hallway. The golem stomped toward them.

Crystal’s legs shook. “Not again! Not again!” She kept repeating. Her eyes darted around catching a peek of the trembling pups, the tense adult wolves growling, and the adolescent wolves looking ready to pounce. The pack leader pressed himself down closer to the floor his front paws spread apart. A savage growl escaped his throat. His ears pressed flat against his head again.

They fight even though they know it will be useless. They struggle to protect their young. They fight on his orders. Fear, they must feel it, Perhaps I need to learn from them. They will possibly die from this thing yet. They lie in wait to take it down. I should have fought harder. For Ashley, For Brandon, for Creed, and for Sue. I will fight, I will survive. Ashley waits for me. Crystal thought before she drew the sword stationed at her side. Her legs studied. Her eyes narrowed, and her breath stilled. She placed the sword in front of her.

The golem suddenly lunged, the pack leader also lunged. The golem swung his fist connecting with the pack leader. The pack leader slammed into the wall. The first string of wolves moved forward. The pack leader’s eyes immediately fell upon them. “Stay back!”

Crystal lunged forward her blade clashed into the side of the golem’s arm. The golem turned to look at her; its left fist went rushing toward her. Crystal ducked down glaring, and she swiped at his legs.

 

  1. What is the easiest part of writing for you? And what is the hardest?

Writing has always been the easiest part for me. Everything else is difficult. I have to come to realize there are necessary evils such as formatting.

 

  1. Finally, if you could offer some advice to up-and-coming writers, what would that advice be?

Keep at it. Do it for yourself and your readers. It is okay to be afraid of the unknown, to not want to take that step. If you choose to self-publish work at it constantly with effort. My final piece of advice is do not let doubt control you.

by laurenalder

Helpful tips for… well, just about anybody, really…

Earlier this week I encountered the cognitive behavioural therapy concept of the anxiety exposure ladder, which is a tremendous tool for managing stuff that makes you, well, anxious. Basically you set a goal (based on various criteria such as “Is it suitable? Is it relevant? Is it timely?”) and then you rank the thoughts/activities around it on a descending scale in terms of how much anxiety they cause. From that point you tackle them in order from the bottom up.

For example…

GOAL: To have a dealers table at next Keycon.

9/10 anxiety rating: Order copies of my novel from Amazon using a reloadable Mastercard (will it work? will I lose the money? can I navigate the site properly?)

7/10: Figure out how many copies to order (will I be stuck with a lot of books I paid for but can’t sell?)

6/10: Order and pay for my table banner (will it turn out all right? will I pay for it and get stuck with a sub-standard product?)

6/10: Pick a company to print the banner (SO MANY companies to research…)

5/10: Design my ad for the Keycon programme book

5/10: Research a company to print my bookmarks

3/10: Arrange to get payment to the Marketplace department head

3/10: Arrange for a Tir’at plushie to be made in time for the convention

2/10: Finalize the bookmark design

2/10: Finalize the banner design

So in this case, I would handle the 2/10 activities first. The human body is only capable of sustaining anxiety for about 20 minutes at a time, then you naturally level off. The goal of this exercise is to practice the lower-level activities until I’m always at a 1/10 or a 0/10, before moving on to the 3/10 activities and knocking them down to the 1/10 or 0/10 level through mindful exposure. Repeat, moving up the ladder until the 9/10 activity feels manageable.

I’ve been doing this in one form or another for years, so I see no reason why it won’t work now, when I’m doing it mindfully. 🙂

by laurenalder

Thank you, Ian Mortimer, for these lovely little bits of information!

Best name I’ve encountered in a long time, in a book called “The Time Traveller’s Guide to Restoration Britain”…

Nicholas If-Jesus-Christ-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Hadst-Been-Damned Barbon (son of Praise-God Barebones).

(And he was a shady real estate agent who was charged with defrauding numerous people after the Great Fire of London, so the sanctimonious name did him no moral good whatsoever.)

by laurenalder

Conventions: The great DragonCon carpet cosplay debacle of 2013

It’s no secret that fans will cosplay just about anything, given half a chance. However, it takes a special kind of creativity to come up with the idea of dressing yourself as THE CARPET AT A CONVENTION HOTEL.

Dragoncon Carpet Cosplay 2

Behold, the folks who decided to kit themselves out as part of the floor at the Marriott Marquis Atlanta. Complete with camo firearms.

I’ll bet you’re saying: “Brilliant! Beautiful! Sheer genius!” And you’d be right.

However, the carpet’s designers didn’t see it that way. Especially when the cosplayers made the fabric pattern available on Spoonflower. Oops! Can you say, “Intellectual property infringement”? And even Volpin Props, the cosplayers in question, admitted that the original designers had a good point.

Still, in my opinion this episode marks one of the high points of 21st century cosplay. Cleverness! Meta out the wazoo! Copyright wank! Who could ask for anything more?

Full story here, courtesy of Gizmodo:

https://io9.gizmodo.com/cosplayers-threatened-with-legal-action-for-hotel-carpe-1366152096

by laurenalder

Hotel etiquette: Tipping the Cleaning Fairies

Another chronic pain day, hurray! I have a profound case of brain fog, so let’s talk about something plain and easy:

If you stay in a hotel, whether as part of a convention or not, it’s always a great idea to tip the folks who keep your room lovely and sparkling, AKA the Cleaning Fairies.

Why should this be the case? Well, as someone whose own housecleaning skills are best described as “indifferent”, I tremendously appreciate the luxury of coming back to my hotel room at the end of a long convention day and finding a neatly kept environment to crash in. A fully made bed! A spotless bathroom! Fresh towels! Oh, what bliss!

For another thing, I have a friend who used to have a job cleaning hotel rooms. Including the toilets (yick!). And they do NOT get paid a whole helluva lot. Make that: not a lot at all. AND they’re expected to handle some outrageous number of rooms per day. It’s the kind of job that gives little ol’ “judging by the appearance of her household there appears to have been a struggle” me the cold squicky shivers, and I can’t imagine that everybody who scrubs hotel rooms for a living is overjoyed at the prospect.

So on the Saturday night of a convention (to make sure I don’t forget it in the checkout frenzy on Sunday, when I’m likely to be three-quarters brain dead anyway), I hit the hotel front desk and hand them an envelope with $15-20 in it, marked “For the Cleaning Staff”. Last time I did it, I got gushed over, because apparently a lot of people do NOT tip the Cleaning Fairies.

Which I strongly advise everybody to do. 🙂

And if anybody reading this is a Cleaning Fairy themselves… you, Madam or Sir, are a braver human being than I am. No power on this wide green Earth could induce me to stick my hands into a stranger’s toilet. I just wish it were within my budgetary capacity to tip you even more.

by laurenalder

“Tell me about a character…”

Chronic pain is once again delivering a serious hit to my battery life, so today I’ll be addressing my response to a question posed on the Fiction Writing FB group several days ago.

The question: “Tell me about a character (or several) that you intended to have a small part for but ended up liking them so much that you gave them a much bigger part in your story.”

And my response:

The Chief Cook in my recently published novel, “The Codex of Desire”. He was the classic case of a character stepping out of the wings and grabbing a much bigger role for himself, just through the strength of his personality. (He also turned out to be EXTREMELY important to the FMC, but I don’t want to post any spoilers, so that’s all I’ll say about that.)

His name is U’nur, he’s a rare male who is not tied to a female’s harem (this being a matriarchal society), and he’s even rarer in being a genuinely kind individual in a species known for its predatory ruthlessness. He’s been watching over the FMC since she was hatched, although she doesn’t discover this until halfway through “Codex”. As well as being a cook, he’s an herbalist who creates medicines from plant extracts (one of which becomes central to the novel’s plot). The first time I noticed him was when he hailed the FMC out of the blue to offer her a bowl of meat scraps — prior to that I hadn’t even realized he existed — and he just sort of grew from there. 🙂

**********************************

On further reflection today, I also have to acknowledge the Leader of the Furies, Fir’ala~Enk. She also came out of the darkness (literally out of the pitch-black night in the novel) and spoke in a voice so clear, so utterly hers, that I was instantly captivated.

Like U’nur, Fir’ala seemed to step from the wings and take centre stage as a fully realized individual. I never planned her, I never sat down and wrote out a character sheet for her, she simply existed as a distinct individual from the instant I “met” her. And she ended up becoming one of Tir’at’s deadliest enemies — but that’s another story. 🙂

by laurenalder

Novel excerpt: A scene from “Where Darkness Falls” which will NOT appear in the novel…

… because it’s written from the POV of the male main character, Jeremy Anderson, and he is not a POV character in the book itself.

WARNING: Adult content ahoy!

********************************

Jeremy’s eyes snapped open, staring through the darkness at the cheaply stuccoed motel room ceiling over his bed. The bedcovers, securely around his shoulders when he’d fallen asleep, were now shoved down and tangled around his thighs, and his breathing came deep and rough, his heart pounding inside the secret fastness of his chest.

And his penis, which had obeyed his resolute will for so many years, was standing defiantly stiff and sweetly aching inside his crisp-pressed pajama bottoms.

Because of her. The Wiccan woman sleeping in the room’s other narrow twin bed, her own breathing soft and serene in the depths of the night.

His enemy. His ally in their shared mission, however hated. And as his blood coursed hotly through his entire body, throbbing hard in the most sinful part of him, the rush of horrible memories nearly choked him: university, another bed with disarrayed sheets, another woman with tousled dark hair and shameless sensuality… and the shame, the betrayal of all his most deeply held moral convictions, for a brief space of gasping minutes and a single blaze of carnal pleasure.

And she had told everybody afterwards, anybody who would listen, that the “good Southern Baptist boy” was just as much a slave to his passions as any other man she’d lured between her sinful, glorious thighs. That he had been her toy. That he had failed every moral precept he’d ever stood for.

Jeremy closed his eyes again, hard, and denied the sting of miserable tears with all his well-honed willpower. They slipped free anyway.

Power… discipline… that was the essence of who he was, and the essential nature of the God he honoured, the God from Whom his Manifester powers flowed. For one wild instant he considered slipping out of the motel room with his phone to call his Mother — but what could he possibly tell her? He hadn’t told her about his horrible moral failure with Vanessa Vann in the first place, all those years ago, and the last thing he was up to right now was explaining such a thing to a woman who had no idea that he was capable of such a gross transgression of the rules of his faith.

He did push the covers off, and sit up, and swing his legs over the edge of the hard motel mattress — but it wasn’t to rise, but rather to abase himself before the only One who knew the full dark depths of his failure, and the true sincerity of his repentance. He sank to his knees beside the bed, and rested his elbows on the mattress edge, and clasped his hands before his bowed forehead, and he whispered as softly as the flow of his burning tears down his cheeks:

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”

Tatiana Kavelin’s breath hitched. She shifted restlessly, then turned her back to him and settled again.

“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…”

Of course she would be uneasy: even in her sleep, surely, she could hear the holy words, and demon-worshipper that she was, they must cause her pain. Jeremy felt a fleeting stab of fierce exultation at this effect of the ineffable power of the true Lord of the Universe.

“Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses…”

Vanessa. Her full breasts and shameless mouth and the enticing wetness between her —

No. He was forgiven. He was a Manifester, and what greater evidence that God loved him dearly, than the powers which were his to wield?

“As we forgive those who trespass against us…”

But in his heart he would never forgive. Vanessa had laid a stain upon his soul which he could never scrub clean. Yet he was a Manifester still — so surely his inability to forgive was also allowed?

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

This was a surer road, a path Jeremy knew well. Since Vanessa he had been ruthless in policing himself. His flesh had obeyed his will — and even now he could feel the blood ebbing from his most secret parts, drawn back into his body and his control by the power of his ferocious righteousness.

“For Thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory…”

No more tears flowed. A coolness came over him, as refreshing as rain after a parching drought.

“Forever and ever… Amen.”

Jeremy opened his eyes. The darkness held no terrors for him now — either the shadows without, or the bruise of his own sin within.

He got back into bed and drew the blankets round his shoulders again, and was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes, secure in the protection of his God. For what, in truth, could harm a Warrior of the Supreme Lord?

Surely not something as ephemeral as a memory in the night.

by laurenalder

My Femisphere Interview

This morning I was honoured to be a guest on the CKUW radio show “Femisphere”, talking about my recently published novel “The Codex of Desire”. And during the interview one of the hosts pointed out something which is fundamental to the storyline, but which I hadn’t consciously noticed: that “Codex”, as well as featuring a patriarchy vs matriarchy conflict, is also a story about colonialism and reconciliation. WOW, how amazing to be discovering new aspects of this novel after working with it for so long! 🙂
 
You can listen to the interview (8:15-8:31 in the broadcast) once it shows up in the station archives, if you wish. This was my first radio interview about “Codex” and hopefully it will not be my last!
 
by laurenalder

Author Interview: Catherine A. MacKenzie

Cathy funky small

  1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

I’m a wife, mother, and grandmother living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. I write short stories, poetry, and essays. I’ve self-published several short story compilations and poetry books, along with a few children’s picture books. I’ve also had some of my work published in print and on-line publications.

I’m elated to announce my first novel, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK.

  1. What is the title of your current work (WIP or recently published) and what is its genre?

My first novel is WOLVES DON’T KNOCK. It’s a psychological drama, with elements of thriller, suspense, mystery, romance, and family relationships.

My plan is to write the sequel/prequel/stand-alone novel, MR. WOLFE (perhaps titled MISTER WOLFE) that will complement WOLVES. Both books will be stand-alone novels. I say “sequel/prequel” because the story of MR. WOLFE, as I envision it in my head, could go ahead of WOLVES or after it.

  1. Is this book suitable for children, or is it adults-only? If there’s mature content, what type of mature content does the book contain?

Though WOLVES DON’T KNOCK deals with sensitive issues (kidnapping and rape), there are no graphic scenes or bad language. I’d say it would be suitable for mature teens and up.

I have a funny story to share. My eleven-year-old granddaughter Taylor was recently at my house, and I “caught” her leafing through my book. As soon as she saw me, she put it down, clearly upset she’d been caught. I acted nonchalant, but I didn’t want her handling that particular copy, as it was designated for a purchaser. I gave her a damaged copy, thinking she would look at it for several seconds and discard it, but the next thing I knew, she was on the couch, deep into my book. I wasn’t certain it was suitable for her age, so I called my daughter for permission. My daughter was, at that time (probably still is!) at page 30, so she couldn’t definitively say it was an “okay” book for her daughter to read, but she approved it, saying, “Mom, you don’t know the books I read in grade six.” No, I probably don’t, I thought, thinking back hundreds of years to when I was in grade six and the books I had read. But, to me, my granddaughter Taylor is still a little girl. A child, but a grownup one. Gah, where does time go?

Continuing the story: By the time Taylor left my home on that visit she was on page 70 something. I called her the other day and she was up to page 90. School started shortly after she returned home, so she probably won’t have too much time to read it now, but I was elated she was so excited about something her granny had created!

Hubby started reading the book when we were camping over Labour Day weekend. He’s more than two-thirds into it but hasn’t touched it since we returned home. It’s not his genre, but he’s plugging through it for me. He said he was enjoying it, said it was well-written, which meant a lot to me. He hadn’t found any errors even though my daughter said she had discovered one within the first 30 pages. (Of course, she couldn’t remember where it was.)

I had thought the book would appeal to women only, but six other men I know of have read it and enjoyed it. So that’s a good thing!

  1. What inspired you to write this work?

I didn’t plan to write this—or any—novel. This book evolved from a short story I wrote titled “Doorbells and December,” which was published by Dancing With Bear Publishing in a Christmas anthology in December 2012. The following year, DWB put out a call for submissions for another Christmas anthology, so I wrote part two to the story. Both stories ended abruptly (no ending, really!), which antagonized the publisher. After that, I added more, reaching around 30,000 words, planning to publish it as a novella. Then I was up to 60,000 words and was almost going to publish it as a novel but wasn’t quite happy with it. I kept at it, reaching 80,000 words. Still unhappy, I thought it needed more. When I reached almost 104,000 words, I knew it was done.

I think a writer knows when to stop! In my case, it wasn’t the length, but I had said all that needed to be said and had included all the suspense that I could. Sure, I could have kept on with the book, but there needs to be an end.

I’m planning on another book, titled MR. WOLFE or MISTER WOLFE. Readers have asked me for more of Paul Wolfe, the kidnapper. What makes him tick? What is his story? This book will be in his POV, and I’m hoping for a publication date in 2019.

  1. What makes this book special, unique, or interesting? How does it “stand out”?

I used a lot of symbolism and imagery. There are ten knock-knock jokes in the book that, I think, make the story interesting and different. The jokes are there for a reason, though; they’re not just fluff. Two poems, too, are weaved into the story.

As well, I tell the story without using graphic scenes. A reader recently complimented me that I was successfully able to do that.

  1. Tell us some key information about the main character(s), both protagonists and antagonists.

The story is told through the POVs of Miranda and her mother, Sharon. Both Miranda and Sharon (mostly Sharon) have secrets they dare not reveal. The reader will see how both their lives intertwine.

Paul, the antagonist, is obviously a crazy person, but the reader doesn’t learn much about him. I purposely wrote the story that way because the book isn’t about him; it’s about Sharon and Miranda. But, as I said previously, I’ve had readers ask about him, so I plan to write a book in his POV. The story is in my head; I just need to get it on paper.

There are a couple of little “hints” or foreshadowing in the book that the reader of WOLVES won’t pick up on as needing further clarification, but reading MR. WOLFE will give the reader some “aha” moments.

  1. What is your back cover blurb? Or if you don’t have one yet, how would you pitch your work in 200 words or less?

The back cover blurb:

Twenty-two-year-old Miranda escapes from her abductor and the wolves that have tormented her soul for six long years. She returns to her childhood home where her mother, Sharon, caring for Miranda’s son, Kevin, has feared for her daughter’s fate. Uncertainty and distrust taint the first year after Miranda’s return. Miranda and Sharon hide secrets they dare not reveal while constantly wondering when Miranda’s kidnapper will reappear. Can mother and daughter bury their demons and repair their strained relationship? Can Miranda bond with the baby she never knew and find the love she so desperately wants? Will Kevin’s father play a role? Will Sharon find the answers she needs to recover from her own troubled past?

  1. Share a tempting bit of the plot with us. Is there a particular scene that you’re really excited about? Why does it excite you?

I got a brainstorm after the book was almost finished and wrote another chapter. I’d share part of it here, but it would give too much away. (It’s Chapter 74 for those who’ve read the book.) I love this chapter and think it really adds to that specific character and the book. And I hope it’ll shock the reader, too, but in a good way.

  1. Share up to 800 words of your current work with us (with an intro of up to 200 words to establish context).

This is part of chapter one in the novel, just before Miranda is abducted. Another chapter deals with her escape, but the rest of the book covers the year after she returns home. A lot goes on in that year. Miranda and Sharon continually look over their shoulders, wondering when the kidnapper will reappear. Miranda readjusts to her new life with her son. Sharon has secrets she doesn’t want revealed. I can’t say much more, but there are twists and turns. The novel may start off a bit slow, but the intensity increases with every page.

Miranda Morrison raised her arm and turned, ready to lambaste the person who had shoved her, but the supposed culprit disappeared into the Subway Restaurant.

“Idiot,” she muttered, hoping no one heard. Only crazies spoke to themselves.

She resumed her position, waiting for the red light to change so she could cross Spring Garden Road. As usual, traffic zoomed up and down Robie Street. People hovered around her, close enough she could touch any one of them. No wonder the guy had bumped into her.

She sighed, blaming her blue mood on post-natal stress. She had heard of post-natal depression, but she wasn’t depressed; at least she didn’t think she was. She suffered stress, though.

She gave up on the light and turned right on Spring Garden Road toward downtown Halifax and the waterfront. Despite being early December, the temperature was mild, and the sun shed its warmth. Soon it would be Christmas. All good reasons to be happy.

After an unexpected glimpse of her reflection in a storefront window, she stood straighter, heeding her mother’s incessant nagging. She placed her palms over her swollen stomach, confronting emptiness. How had she morphed into a mother at sixteen? With her pregnancy finally over, those drawn-out months seemed to have sped by. The cramping had lessened, but she had no doubt it would worsen.

She tugged at the bottom of her baggy T-shirt and yanked the fronts of the down-filled jacket across her chest to camouflage the bulge, unable to zipper the jacket over a belly that protruded as if she hadn’t yet given birth. She could kid herself that she had gained weight by making a pig of herself, but who else would believe it? Her swollen belly screamed the truth, and it was more than embarrassing.

She had been careless getting pregnant, especially at fifteen—not that she’d planned the pregnancy. What teenager did? She had made an even dumber move leaving the IWK Maternity Hospital—she glanced at her watch—thirteen minutes previously, where her mother and the doctors and nurses bustled about. She should head back. She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving, not that anyone would miss her. Everyone was all gaga over Kevin, and he sure didn’t need her, either.

Kevin, her baby. What would he be doing? Nothing. She giggled as her mind drifted back to the wailing infant. At five days old and premature, what else could he do but sleep, cry, and eat?

Her stomach growled. She’d only eaten half a grilled cheese sandwich at lunch. Hospital food was gross.

She continued down Spring Garden Road and stopped at a coffee shop, where she eyed mouth-watering sweets through the window. Should she? Yes!

Grateful for money in her pocket, she ordered a cinnamon bun and a Coke. She nibbled the warm bun, wanting it to last as long as possible, but slugged down the pop. She licked the creamy frosting from her fingers, wishing the baker had been more generous with the topping.

Back outside, she continued down Spring Garden and crossed to Summer Street, where several pedestrians strolled. The street glistened with melted snow, and white covered the median. A light dusting blanketed the sidewalks. She avoided patches of thick, slippery crusts shaded from the sun by overhanging branches. She should have worn her boots, but she and her mother had left the house so quickly when labour started that she had slipped into sneakers instead of searching for boots.

She peeked at the Public Gardens on her right, remembering brilliant, fragrant flowers during the summer, the colours so vivid in her mind she could smell their perfumy scents. She dreaded the long winter ahead and yearned for spring when plants evolved from hibernating bulbs or brown stubs into beauty and fragrance.

Camp Hill Cemetery emerged at her left. She would have wandered in had her father been buried there, but he was interred at the Garden of Eden Cemetery, an hour’s drive from town. Would she have stood before his grave and conversed if he were there? It boggled her mind that so-called sane people believed in such crap as talking to the dead.

She noted the contrast between the cemetery and the gardens. Winter brought out similarities between the two: bodies or bulbs, both buried deep underground. In the spring, the Public Gardens would be awake, boisterous with burgeoning blooms and bustling bodies, but Camp Hill would never awaken.

She had nearly reached Sackville Street when she heard what sounded like feet crunching in the snow behind her. Her stomach lurched. She turned. No one, and the only vehicle in sight was a dark-coloured truck turning left from Spring Garden Road.

  1. What is the easiest part of writing for you? And what is the hardest?

The easiest part is that I have the time to write. The hardest part is coming up with good ideas, dealing with writers’ block, and editing. No matter how often I proofread/edit, inevitably I find errors. I’m a perfectionist, so the smallest mistake will bug me to death. By far, though, the hardest part is AFTER the book is published. Who wants to promote themselves and their work? I sure don’t. I’m more of a behind-the-scenes person, and putting myself “out there” to sell my book is very difficult. I’ve had great reviews of WOLVES thus far, so that spurs me on, that maybe I’m not such a fake, afterall.

  1. Finally, if you could offer some advice to up-and-coming writers, what would that advice be?

This is a cliché, I know, but follow your dreams. If you want to write a novel, write a novel. That had been my unverbalized “dream” since I was a teenager, and I never did anything about it—until recently. Now that my book is done, I’m amazed I actually did it! If it could only be a bestseller…

BONUS INFORMATION

Your FB personal page: https://www.facebook.com/cathy.mackenzie.790

Your Twitter link:@grannymackenzie

Your WordPress (or other) blog: www.writingwicket.wordpress.com

Facebook WOLVES DON’T KNOCK:

https://www.facebook.com/WolvesDontKnock/

Your online book purchasing link(s):

https://www.amazon.com/Wolves-Dont-Knock-C-MacKenzie/dp/1927529387/

(also available from me)

Cathy Wolves Don't Knock June FINAL PRINT FRONT COVER