Category Archives: My Ongoing Self-Interview

My Ongoing Self-Interview II

This is the second installment of my ongoing self-interview. The questions I’m answering today are: Who are your favorite authors to read? What is your favorite genre to read. Who Inspires you in your writings?

The Road CoverThat’s tough because it’s so hard to narrow it down. Over the years, there have been so many great authors who inspired me. I know this is going to sound cliché, but I love Shakespeare—his wit, his base sense of humor, his understanding of the common human experience. And jeez, anyone who can steel that many plots and end up more famous than the poor souls who got jacked is pretty damn smooth. I love Steinbeck. I love Cormac McCarthy (The Road is pure genius). I love Flannery O’Conner and Stephen King. Right about now, you are probably wondering why I write romance novels. I’m getting there; just hold your horses … I write romance because I love the way romance novels make me feel, and I believe romance authors are sorely underrated. Look at the body of work produced by romance novelists. They are one of the most prolific bunches on the planet. There are so many greats. I’ll just stick to a few of my recent favorites. I love Emma Chase’s Tangled Series. I love Alice Clayton (Wallbanger has one of the funniest sex moments I think I’ve ever read). I love and admire R. L. Mathewson for creating the sexy Bradford boys in her own way. And, oh God, Seduction and Snacks by Tara Sivec—you just have to read it. The list could go on and on, so there is just one more First Grave coverI’d like to mention. Darynda Jones has ruined my life with her Charley Davidson series. I blame her if my second book is delayed because I just had to read all of the first five books, again, right before Sixth Grave on the Edge came out. I’m not a typical fan-girl. I don’t get hooked, usually. But I’m so in love with Reyes Farrow that I might even leave my own character for him. Obviously, with a list like this, I love humor. In my own writing, I try to balance my love of humor, drama, and witty language. Hopefully that’s how it comes across.

My Ongoing Self-Interview I

Doing author interviews is a great way for writers to connect with readers. I’ve done a few of them, and I’ve answered random reader questions on Goodreads and Facebook. Often, I’ll get asked a question that is just plain fun to answer, and I find myself wanting to preserve my responses to these questions. So, I decided to start this ongoing self-interview on my blog. I will periodically post great questions and my answers to them. So, here is the first one . . .

Q: At what age did you realize your fascination with books? When did you start writing?

Wild ThingsA: Without a doubt, my first fascination with a book was with Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. I guess I first encountered this book in kindergarten, so around age five. You know, there have been a few happenings in my life that left such marked impressions that I can remember sensory details about the experience—things like the taste of what I was eating, the smell in the air, the colors I saw around me. Sensory memory is a very powerful thing. Reading Where the Wild Things Are is the only experience which left a memory of playing inside of my imagination. Yeah, South Park got it right. Imagination Land does exist. I’ve been there. I remember, fairly vividly, pretending to be Max and living among the wild things. My bedroom became just like his bedroom. I remember more than just pretending to be Max; I remember what it was like to be Max (in Imagination Land, of course). That book was more than just a bunch of pages with pictures and words, it was an experience. That was my introduction to the power of books.

I started writing in high school. I think it was an expression of teen angst back then, like it is for so many teens (funny how they use the very mode of expression that many of them rebel against in English class—namely poetry). I wrote small bits of poetry in the form of song lyrics. I had them stashed all over my room as a teenager. Sadly, most of them are lost now. I never believed in myself enough to preserve them, to take my writing seriously. Then, when I went to college, I was fortunate enough to land in the writing class of Dr. Ron Colthard. In one of my typical smartass moves, I turned most every piece I wrote in that class into a humorous essay. Rather than chastise me, he took it upon himself to edit and critique those crazy things. He made me see that my self-indulgent bull could be turned into little gems of at least moderate literary merit. Before that class was over, Dr. Colthard tried numerous times to get me to submit something to the Cold Mountain Review (ASU’s creative writing publication), but I was too scared or maybe just too young and stupid. It took me two major jobs, a master’s degree, and twenty years to gain the courage to put my work out there. Now that I’ve done it, I wish I could go back to 1992 and smack my former self right across the head.