Fantasy Authors of Tomorrow: Rebecca Fox!

I am excited to kick off this week's set of features, Fantasy Authors of Tomorrow, with this lovely young writer. Rebecca first wrote to me early last year for help with a research project she was working on. While serving as a resource for her on this project, I was impressed by Rebecca's maturity and passion for writing, particularly YA fantasy. Definitely a girl after my own heart!

Later in the year, Rebecca was my first mentoring student, and I was delighted to begin my job as writing coach on her work. The first chapter she sent me was full of beautiful narrative, lyrical prose, lovely scenery . . . and a fabulously eerie plot. I was hooked. And I suspect all of you will be as well!

Here is a little more information about Rebecca Fox:

A recent high school graduate, Rebecca Fox writes fantasy stories while simultaneously dreaming of traveling to Narnia, Middle-earth, and whatever fantasy world she is currently writing about. When she’s not lost in the pages of a book, she’s likely belting out songs from The Phantom of the Opera and Les Mis, rehearsing for a play, listening to her collection of soundtrack music, or cheering madly for her favorite college football teams. Rebecca lives in Iowa with her family. 


I was excited to learn that Rebecca's major passion is for  fairy tales. Here is a glimpse at her current work-in-progress!

The Summons Has Come . . . a Maiden is Chosen

 

Every Midsummer’s Eve, a maiden is summoned to the mysterious Castle Lamir, hidden upon a shadowy mountain. The girl is never heard from again. No one asks questions or tries to dissuade the villager elders from sending another maiden into the unknown, for all fear crossing the will of the infamous Lord of Lamir.

 

Desperate to prove her worth when the elders read her name from the summons, plain Estelle—the village outcast—ventures into the wild mountains only to discover that the enchanted Castle Lamir holds dark secrets. Caught between the warring wills of the Voice that hides in the shadows and the sorceress that dwells beneath the castle, Estelle becomes entangled in the search for an ancient and powerful legend. The Essence of Beauty may prove the key to achieving her heart’s greatest desire, but there are others who would use her and the Essence for their own ends.

 

I know, I know . . . you want to pick it up and read it right away! Sadly, it's not complete yet, so you'll have to wait a few years. But in the meanwhile, Rebecca has sweetly agreed to an interview here today!

INTERVIEW 

 

Hi, Rebecca! First of all, why don't you tell us a little about yourself. Are you an extrovert or an introvert? Do you like tea or coffee? Cats or dogs? Indoors or outdoors? Sports or crafts? Anything you want to tell us!

Rebecca: Hmmm. Well, since it’s confession time: I tend to be an introvert; I adore mint hot chocolate; I have a sweet Australian shepherd with more than his fair share of personality; I’m an indoor girl in practice but love sitting on a porch in the mountains or watching the summer stars when I get the opportunity. Football, college football to be specific, is my absolute favorite sport. I—obviously—don’t play it, but I am a huge fan. I would love to study abroad in Great Britain, the land of so many incredible authors. I am working on my British accent imitation and hope my voice gets stuck like that. And last, but certainly not least, I went to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit last month in costume. I’m kind of a big fan. J There you have it, fair friends.

When did you first decide you wanted to be a novelist?

Rebecca: I think realizing that I wanted to be a novelist was gradual. I’ve enjoyed stories and writing since I was a little kid, but it wasn’t until the summer before my freshman year of high school that I started to actually do something about it. I wrote a novel (quite dreadful actually but someday I hope I can turn it into something worth reading) and loved the experience. When I finished, something had happened. When people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, I started saying, “I want to be a novelist.” And that was that.

What was the first story you can remember writing down? Did you ever finish it?

Rebecca: In third grade the class was assigned to write a short, one-page story. Mine ended up being three pages. I can hardly remember that little tale; I’m sure it’s somewhere buried deep in the annals of my childhood, if it even survived our move five years later. But I do recall that it was a fantasy. So my course in fantasy was set nearly a decade ago.

What are some of your favorite books? Have they influenced your own writing?

Rebecca: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien are my literary heroes. No matter what I read or how much I enjoy a new book, I always end up coming back to these two. I grew up on The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. Really, these authors were the ones who first inspired me to write. Their books provided fuel for my childhood play, textbooks as I first began to dig into and study literature, and now a guide as I started to create my own stories. They provide a wonderful example of what it means to be a Christian and a fantasy writer.

What is a one-sentence summary of the manuscript you are currently writing?

Rebecca: The outcast of a society that values physical beauty above all, plain Estelle is sent as tribute to the villagers’ infamous liege-lord only to become entangled in the search for the legendary power over beauty.

What is the most important lesson you've learned during these last few months of mentoring?

Rebecca: How can I choose just one?! I think the first major lesson I learned was to balance “showing” and “telling.” I had gotten bogged down in the show-don’t-tell maxim and my work was feeling stiff. Once I started “telling” emotions, thoughts, etc. in addition to all the “showing” my writing started to feel more comfortable. That was sort of a breakthrough lesson for me. I had more freedom to explore my characters, giving them an opportunity to come that much more alive in my mind. I could sit back and start enjoying the story!

What tricks do you try when you face writer's block?

Rebecca: In my experience, writer’s block tends to stem from too much pressure, often self-inflicted. When that happens I take a step back to relieve the pressure. Sometimes that means leaving the scene that I’m working on and jumping ahead (or backwards or to an entirely different project) and working on that for a while, just something new to stir my creativity. Often I’ll grab the nearest book and start reading. I find that it helps to get words and stories flowing through my mind even if they aren’t my own. In fact, when there’s a book I’ve been consistently reading, I’ve found that I am likely to have more success with my writing than when I haven’t read much in a few weeks. I guess it all comes back to the age-old advice: read, read, and read.

Who is your favorite character in your current manuscript and why?

Rebecca: I love all my characters from my bitter villainess to my tortured hero, but since I have to choose, I have to pick Lucia, a member of the supporting cast. She’s a fascinating character to write and she poses some unique challenges. She’s blind, but she hasn’t always had this disability so she does have some fading memories of what she saw long ago, some she treasures while others haunt her. She’s a sweet, innocent, naïve girl, but these traits are the very things that drew her into embracing, and remaining entrapped in, Darkness. Yet Lucia’s heart is golden, unspoiled by the enchantments and bitterness that surround her. She longs for beauty and truth and companionship. She has some very difficult choices coming up that will threaten her carefully constructed security.

Would you share an excerpt from your current work-in-progress?

Rebecca: Absolutely. This segment comes from Chapter Four of Beautiful, which includes some of my favorite moments in the novel thus far. Enjoy!

Excerpt from

BEAUTIFUL

Estelle lifted her chin and looked into the mirror.

So then, dreams did not come true.

The same reflection as always stared back at her. The lank frame, the grim-set jaw and pale, thin lips turned slightly down, the too large eyes the color of smoke, the austere aquiline nose.

The image of that beautiful face, indelibly imprinted upon her memory, laughed at her.

See what you really are, foolish girl. You will never be me.

It was Liette. It was the elder. It was her mother. Their voices collided in her head, becoming one.

See what you really are. Nothing more. Nothing more. Never more. 

Estelle ground her teeth together until a shooting pain lanced through her jaw. Heat rose up her neck and spread from her cheeks to her ears and over her scalp. It built behind her eyes and her vision tilted. 

How dare the mirror tell her this? How dare these infernal enchantments tantalize her with the promise of such beauty only to repeal the gift, leaving her groveling and ashamed?

“Come away, Estelle.” The minstrel’s voice whispered at the edge of her awareness.

How could she have allowed herself to fall for the illusion?

It was the final straw. Estelle threw her head back and screamed. Long and loud, the sound screeched from her mouth. Like a wolf it clawed her throat as it passed and ravaged her ears once released into the open. Still she screamed, pouring every hurt and bitterness and rage into the noise.

Deep within the hidden corners of the castle, ancient enchantments stirred. The angels in the courtyard trembled as mists boiled up from the chasm and churned across the grounds. The gargoyles laughed, baring their fangs as they crouched among the eaves.

A wind, hot and stale, swept out of the shadows and raced through the halls and corridors. It barreled past the entrance to the Hall of Mirrors. It swept around Estelle, swirling her skirts and twisting her hair.

As the wind whirled about her, enclosing her, Estelle heard her scream magnified and multiplied, as if a hundred tiny voices had taken up her cry. A terrifying, heart-wrenching symphony.

Estelle felt something grab her from behind and jerk her backwards. The whirlwind of voices shattered like glass, and Estelle’s own voice faltered. She whirled and heard her palm crack against something. Someone.

The final remnants of her scream faded. All was silent. All was still. Estelle stood frozen, staring at the white mark of her hand on the minstrel’s cheek.

What had she done?

Already the place on his cheekbone was changing from pale white to mottled purple-grey with a streak of red through the middle. Could she have really assaulted him so viciously? The ache in her hand confirmed it.

What had happened to her? What had changed? She had never done such a thing before, had not thought herself capable. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, more for her own consolation than for the minstrel's.

The minstrel said nothing but continued to watch her. Estelle looked down and studied the parquet floor. With the toe of her shoe, she cleared away some of the pervasive dust, revealing the wooden mosaic. She had apologized. Now it was his turn to respond, but he persisted in his silent gaze. As each second ticked agonizingly past, Estelle felt the weight of her guilt grow upon her shoulders.

Still the minstrel did not speak.

Estelle released an exasperated huff. She didn’t deserve this. After all, he should never have intervened, startling her as he had. He knew nothing of her plight. He had never suffered like she had. He had never desired something so fiercely only to be rejected again and again. He deserved that mark for all she had endured because of him from the moment she had first laid eyes on him.

Estelle met the minstrel’s gaze with chin lifted. But she did not see in his weird, piercing eyes what she had expected, even wanted, to see. He harbored neither anger nor even disbelief. Estelle barely stifled her horrified gasp. He pitied her.

Pity! That insufferable, dreadful pity that made her skin crawl. It was far worse, Estelle decided, than scorn. She knew how to respond to derision, but this pity set her on edge. Was she helpless? No! She needed no one, particularly not him.

Estelle turned once more to the mirror. She looked into the face of the wild-eyed, red-faced reflection and hated what she saw. This image, this reality, had haunted her too long.

Casting aside the candles, Estelle grabbed a golden candelabrum. She would end that reflection’s constant mockery once and for all. She faced the mirror and hefted the ornately wrought candlestick.

“Estelle?” The minstrel broke his silence, but it was too late. “Estelle, wait. Be careful!”

Ignoring him, Estelle slammed the candlestick with all of her might into the glass. The crack exploded across the mirror, sending fissures towards each corner. Estelle smiled with grim satisfaction. She would have her revenge upon every mirror in the castle if she had to. Never again would these mimicking, glassy fiends taunt her. She would destroy them all until one showed her what she wanted to see.

Suddenly, Estelle felt a shudder ripple beneath her feet. It passed and she dismissed the sensation as a working of her imagination. But then tremors sped through the stones. Plumes of dust burst into the air like fountains of fireworks. 

“Estelle!” The minstrel grabbed her arm and this time Estelle was too disoriented to push him away. The windows rattled; the chandeliers swung violently back and forth; the walls groaned.

“What’s happening?” Estelle shouted over the growing din.

“Get down!”

Estelle fell to her knees and crawled beneath a table. She threw her arms over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. The tremors that shook the castle shook her as well. She felt them take hold, an invisible hand squeezing her heart and rattling her bones.

Crashes echoed and the castle seemed to wail in agony, lifting ever higher in pitch and ferocity. Then, without warning, just as she thought she could bear it no longer, the quake stopped, as if it had never been.

Estelle remained crouched beneath the table, the blood pounding in her temples. It was over? The minstrel stirred beside her and climbed back into the open. Estelle inched back against the wall. How could he be certain it would not begin again? It had come so suddenly. What could have provoked such a violent reaction of the earth?

Then Estelle realized. Could it have been her?

“Minstrel,” Estelle’s voice shivered as she spoke but it suddenly no longer mattered, “what have I done?”

He stopped for a moment and glanced up and down the hall. Estelle followed his gaze but saw nothing. The hall appeared as though the quake had never occurred; not a cracked vase or shattered window. At last the minstrel released a heavy sigh as if satisfied that the danger was past.

“You have disturbed her slumber.”

“Whose slumber? Who have I disturbed?”

“Why the Lady Lamir, of course.”

“I thought it was the Lord of Lamir. Does he have a wife?”

The minstrel fixed her with a quizzical glance and his green eye gleamed queerly. “A wife? The Lord of Lamir? No.”  He spread his arms. “This is Lady Lamir.”

Estelle stared at him for a moment before understanding dawned. “You mean the castle.”

“Yes. I mean the castle. She is Lamir. His lordship, as you call him, may fancy himself her master, but—” The minstrel fell suddenly silent, his attention rapt upon a place behind Estelle. She turned and saw a figure moving towards them.

“She is remembering,” the minstrel breathed.

The figure stumbled forward, one hand pressed to his side and the other waving madly in front of him as though batting something away.

He drew closer and Estelle could hear the inane babble and the moaning. It was a man, she discerned. He was dressed in finery not unlike that which she had seen in her dream. But while he appeared real, he seemed also somewhat immaterial. Something like the women she had met in the banquet hall upon her arrival. Estelle chewed on her bottom lip. What did this mean?

The man was only a few yards away from where they stood when the suspicion came over Estelle that she knew him. His shoulders were hunched and his head bent low, hiding his face.

“I see you. I see you,” the man muttered. “They all see me. I hear them. I hear them coming. All around. From the skies. Spears. Splinters. Run. Cannot run. Hide. Cannot hide.”

The man halted, teetered, and then stumbled forward again, waving his arm even more furiously than before. Estelle wanted to reach out to him. What had this man suffered? What had he seen to reduce him to such a state? Estelle wrapped her arms about her. Was it this castle? Was this the doom that awaited the guests of the Castle Lamir?

“She’s here! She’s here! She’s here!”

The fear in the man’s voice escalated until he was shaking uncontrollably and he began to weep. Estelle wanted to scream, to turn away, to cry with him, but she couldn’t.

“She’s here!” he screamed, and then toppled forward, collapsed at Estelle’s feet.

When he rolled onto his back and stared unseeing at the ceiling, Estelle screamed. “Savion!”

He hardly looked the same person, but Estelle knew it was he. Just as she knew that the wound in his side, the one his pale, blood-covered hand failed to hide, was mortal.

Estelle tried to rush to Savion’s side, but the minstrel’s arms surrounded her and held her back. She struggled for a moment but gave up and stared in horror. He was stronger than she had thought.

“We all will die,” Savion rasped, his thin lips, now blue in color, hardly moved. His head lolled to one side so that his dead eyes seemed to stare straight at her. Nausea roiled in Estelle’s stomach and her legs gave way.

“Let us go away from here,” the minstrel said.

As much as she despised his assistance, Estelle leaned into the minstrel as he guided her to her chambers. Just before they crossed the threshold, Estelle glanced back over her shoulder and started. Savion’s body had disappeared.

Estelle sat upon the edge of her bed and gasped for breath as the minstrel shoved the door closed. How could she comprehend all that she had just witnessed? How could she bear the knowledge of it? What had the villagers’ condemned her to?

“Are you well?”

“I—I’ll be fine.”

The silence in the room was deafening. It pressed against Estelle’s chest until she couldn’t breath.

“Minstrel,” she said, “I don’t understand.”

The minstrel leaned against the window frame and watched her. His gaze was once more sympathetic but it did not bother her now.

I need him.

Estelle shoved the thought away.

“Neither do I, Estelle. Not entirely.” He sighed.

“But you do.” She straightened. This minstrel was hiding things from her. Things she desperately needed to know. Secrets she had a right to know. Secrets that might hold the key to her survival. And now, she would do anything to survive this palace of horrors. “You speak in riddles. You’re clearly acquainted with the mysteries of this place. Tell me everything, everything you know.”

“That I cannot do.”

“I don’t want to die here, Minstrel.” Estelle joined him at the window. “I want to go home.”

“I do not think you will die here.”

“Won’t I? What about the other tributes, the girls who came before me? What happened to them?” When the minstrel did not reply Estelle continued, feeling the heat of her fear igniting her passion. “Then help me escape.”

 

The minstrel lifted his eyebrows. “There is no escape from the Castle Lamir. Of that much, I can assure you."

 

 

 

 

Chilling reading! I don't know about the rest of you, but got the shivers. Thank you so much, Rebecca, for sharing from your work-in-progress. Looking forward to that someday when we can all sit down and read it straight through!

And now, Rebecca has offered a fabulous giveaway. She has two wonderful bookmarks to offer to a lucky winner! Take a look at these pretties . . .

If you would like a chance to win these bookmarks from this talented young author, be sure to enter your name in the drawing below. And thank Rebecca for her time and sharing today!

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A Valentine

A Valentine from talented fan artist, Beka! Thought I'd share with all of my favorite Goldstone Wood Imps!

Hugs . . .

Fantasy Authors of Today: Patrick W. Carr

Patrick W. Carr is the newest fantasy author to be published by Bethany House, and we are all very excited about his debut release, A Cast of Stones, first in The Staff & the Sword series. Publisher's Weekly has said about his work: "Carr’s debut, the first in a series, is assured and up-tempo, with much to enjoy in characterization and description." Now that's a nice endorsement for you!

A Cast of Stones is not a YA fantasy, but is written for the adult audience. That being said, I'm certain it is an appropriate read for younger readers as well. And don't you just love those fabulous covers?

Here's a little bit about Patrick himself, swiped from his website:

Patrick Carr was born on an Air Force base in West Germany at the height of the cold war. He has been told this was not his fault. As an Air Force brat, he experienced a change in locale every three years until his father retired to Tennessee. Patrick saw more of the world on his own through a varied and somewhat eclectic education and work history. He graduated from Georgia Tech in 1984 and has worked as a draftsman at a nuclear plant, did design work for the Air Force, worked for a printing company, and consulted as an engineer. Patrick’s day gig for the last five years has been teaching high school math in Nashville, TN. He currently makes his home in Nashville with his wonderfully patient wife, Mary, and four sons he thinks are amazing: Patrick, Connor, Daniel, and Ethan. Sometime in the future he would like to be a jazz pianist. Patrick thinks writing about himself in the third person is kind of weird.

I am excited to have Patrick with us today for an interview. Here's a fun chance to get to know a little more about him and his work!

INTERVIEW

Hi, Patrick! Thanks for joining us today. I know all of my Goldstone Wood Imps are very excited to learn about your series. To start us off, would you mind telling a little about yourself? Hobbies, personality . . . tea or coffee?

Patrick: Ha. Coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. Besides teaching Geometry (I can hear the groans now – 2 column proofs), I spend a lot of time around the activities of my sons. I have two in college and two in high school, so that’s starting to slow down a bit. I do a bit of woodworking, but would really like to go back and pick up piano lessons again. I’d like to learn how to play jazz.

Very cool. Jazz piano is the best . . . My husband fools around with it sometimes, and I just love to listen! As for Geometry . . . I was always more of an algebra girl at heart. But I admire those whose minds work that way! I'm glad to know there are people like you out there.

So tell me, what led you into the writing life? Were you always a storyteller?

Patrick: My dad was a great storyteller. Couple that with my own voracious reading habit and writing kind of followed from that. I used to read to my kids a lot when they were young and decided to write a story with them as the protagonists. That’s when writing really became a passion.

Nice to have a built-in audience from the start too, isn't it? I started out telling stories to my ten-years-younger-than-me brother, and it's funny how many of those stories have found their way into my professional work. Children are a great sounding board!

Without giving away spoilers, can you tell us what inspired you to write A Cast of Stones?

Patrick: I was reading the Bible verse that says “God is in the lot” and my mind just kind of went off on a tangent with it. I started getting all these ideas about an alternate reality with a church that kind of got a little off-track and what that might look like.

What a fascinating idea! I can imagine the story just exploded in your mind from that point. But tell me, did things change for you after you started writing professionally? Do you find it easier or more difficult to write under contract? What difference does a deadline make?

Patrick: I was just talking about this with Mary, my wife, today. I think the deadline has helped me be more disciplined as a writer. I can’t crank out thousands of words a day like some of my friends. I’m kind of slow and plodding, so in order to make the deadline, I have to show up every day and get my word count in. As for creativity, I think that’s more of creating the right kind of mindset. I have to let go of the frustrations and worries of the day and just relax.

Dedication and focus . . . yup, that's what you need to succeed in this business. But it's tough! I can imagine it's difficult to ballance the pressures of fulltime teaching and professional writing. But it's nice to have a creative outlet.

So now, about the story itself. Can you pick a favorite character from The Staff and the Sword series?

Patrick: I love them all, but Cruk makes me laugh. He’s this grizzled veteran-type of character and he’s a lot more honest than people are prepared for. I also really like Rokha, the daughter of Naaman Ru. She’s not a huge character, but you see her a lot and she’s this strong confident, yet feminine, woman.

And now I know we're all eager to meet these characters for ourselves!

What inspires your work? Where do you turn when you need a renewal of inspiration?

Patrick: I get a lot of my ideas while I’m listening to music, especially at church. I’ve got a ton of church bulletins scribbled with notes on my desk. When I need to recharge and get inspired, I usually go to Starbuck’s. The atmosphere and caffeine usually combine to get me moving if I’m stuck.

It's amazing to me how inspiration works. So similar . . . and yet so different for all of us. I could never work in Starbuck's. I'd be far too distracted! But I've also been known to make story-notes in bulletins. LOL.

What are your favorite and least favorite parts of the writing process?

Patrick: My favorite part is the first draft, especially if I hit the zone. The characters come alive and they say and do things that totally surprise me. I’m sitting there and all of a sudden I’ll say “I had no idea they would do that!” My least favorite part is cutting a scene down to fix the pacing. I agonize over what to keep and what not.

Oh, I understand. It's a lot more fun to create than to cut. Thank heaven for editors to keep us focused . . .

If you were forced to pick a single favorite author, who would it be?

Patrick: Tough choice! I would probably say David Eddings. I think I’ve read The Belgariad a half-dozen times and it wouldn’t bother me to read it a few more. His dialog is just so good.

You know, my brother Peter has told me wonderful things about that series as well. I really need to pick it up . . . .

I know The Hero's Lot is the next book due out.  Can you tell us any tidbits about it?

Patrick: The tension in the book ratchets up quite a bit, not only for the danger the kingdom of Illustra is in, but for Errol personally. There’s a character I introduce at the end of The Hero’s Lot that I dearly love. His name is Hadari. In fact, I liked him so much that I’m rewriting some of the third book so that he’s more prominent.

That's great. I love it when characters assert themselves until you can no longer ignore them. Good for Hadari!

What are you actively writing right now?

Patrick: I’m almost done with the first draft of the final installment of “The Staff and the Sword.” I’ve only got about 20k words to go. After that, I’m toying with the idea of a detective series with a twist.

Oooh, that's fun. I love a good detective novel. That will be an interesting departure for you after fantasy too.

_________________

Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us here today. It was a pleasure to introduce your series. Congrats again on your debut release! I hope all of my readers will get a chance to pick up A Cast of Stones. 

Patrick W. Carr can be found online at his website: patrickwcarr.com

And now, the exciting part . . . a giveaway! Mr. Carr has kindly offered an autographed copy of A Cast of Stones to one lucky winner. So be sure to enter your name in the drawing below . . .

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Fantasy Authors of Today: R.J. Larson

I am very excited to be introducing R.J. Larson to you! She is a new voice in the CBA fantasy field, enticing the market with her exciting blend of Biblical fiction influence (she wrote a Biblical fiction series called "The Genesis Trilogy" under a different name) in her own invented world. Library Journal gave her first novel in the series, Prophet, a starred review, calling it: "Character-driven and suspenseful . . . outstanding YA speculative fiction . . ."

Her second novel, Judge, just released this last November, and book 3, King, is due to release this coming summer. So lots of fun reading for you to dive into.

Here is her bio, swiped from Amazon:

R. J. Larson is the author of numerous devotionals and is suspected of eating chocolate and potato chips for lunch while writing. She lives in Colorado with her husband and their two sons. The Books of the Infinite series marks her debut in the fantasy genre.

She is with us today for a fun interview, so I hope you will enjoy a chance to get to know this new author . . . and be sure to pepper her with questions and encouraging comments at the end!

INTERVIEW 

 

Thank you for joining us today, Ms. Larson! First of all, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself. What sorts of hobbies do you enjoy. Are you a tea or coffee person? And so forth . . .

 

R.J. Larson:  I’m a sociable introvert. In other words, I love people, but I need my quiet time. Most of my hobbies are solitary. Reading and writing top the list, but my other interests involve creating meals or gifts for others—baking, tatting, crochet, walking, and working with flowers. I also love music. Classical, worship, rock, soundtracks, and whatever my husband and kids toss at me.

 

I also dearly love listening to my family tell stories. My husband and brothers are avid outdoorsmen, each in their own way. While listening to them (as I’m baking or crocheting) I mentally store up their adventures for writing fodder.

 

Coffee or tea? Both! I love mocha—I must have at least one serving per day—and my tea cabinet is quite large and always overflowing with choices. Lately, my kids have been experimenting with iced tea mixtures; I don’t mind being a test mouse!

 

Hoorah for overflowing cabinets of tea! That sounds pretty much ideal. Though, this time of year, I definitely want HOT tea, not iced.

 

So, I'm curious . . . what led you into the writing life? Were you always a storyteller?

 

R.J. Larson: My parents unwittingly led me into the writing life. Both are wonderful storytellers! From the beginning, they surrounded me with books, and my mother often sang to us and recited poems and stories instead of turning on the television. Throughout my childhood—particularly at dinner—my father would embark on dry-voiced narratives that usually ended with zingers calculated to make me and my four brothers howl with laughter. Unfortunately, our mouths were often full of food or liquid when that final joke hit, necessitating some cleanup of the younger sibs. 

 

I’m also a storyteller, and I always have been, but the only way I can half-match my parents is to write instead of recite. I hope to remedy my lack of verbal storytelling skills by the time grandkids arrive.

I love storytellers! But it is nice to be able to hide behind a pen and paper, and have time to edit and perfect, isn't it? :)

 

I understand (from a certain among of internet stalking) that Prophet was inspired by a dream. This is so intriguing! Can you tell us a little about that?

 

R.J. Larson: True! My dreams have always been huge, complex, and vivid enough to worry me. In early 2010, I awoke from a rather grim dream—a frightened young woman in a dark chamber. I was particularly struck by the dream’s few details—a thin glowing branch, an ‘other-world’ mood, the young woman’s flowing garments, and her fear.

 

What was her life-changing decision? What was with the glowing branch? How did her story end? The questions ate at me, and Ela’s storyline blossomed. I never intended to write fantasy—I’m a history fanatic—but I couldn’t shake off Ela’s story for all the history books in the world. I abandoned my 1890’s work-in-progress to write Prophet, and I finished the initial manuscript in about six months. Looking back over the past three years, I’m still amazed. This series has been such a joy and a blessing to write!

That is very cool. What an inspiring story to other young novelists as well! Fun to see how the small seeds from which an entire novel--and entire series--can grow.

 

Do you find it easier or more difficult to write under contract? What difference does a deadline make to your creativity?

 

R.J. Larson: I love to write—I breathe to write—so a contract makes no difference as far as my weekly word count. Lack of sleep, however, is a different matter. J

 

Thus far, deadlines haven’t cramped my creativity, though I find that I now write with an awareness of reviews, which may or may not be a good thing. As a side note to deadlines, I also enjoy having the editors throw suggestions for unexpected twists into my storyline while they’re reviewing the initial draft. I love the challenge of unraveling and reweaving storylines to *attempt* a seamless plot.

 

Can you pick a favorite character from the Books of the Infinite series?

R.J. Larson: I love all of my characters. They’re all my babies, good and ‘bad’, so I had to think about this question for a few days. Kien, I think, might be my favorite. His humor, his calculating ways, and his sense of honor as he strives to follow his Creator—and Ela—have been a joy. I pieced together many of his traits while watching and listening to the guys in my life. (Guys, if you’re reading this, don’t take this as a cue to blindside me with more adventures. Warn me first?)

 

I'll bet your guys get a big kick out of reading your works and seeing themselves cropping up here and there in unexpected places. "Hey, look! It's me!"

 

What inspires your work? Where do you turn when you need a renewal of inspiration?

 

R.J. Larson: Did I mention the guys in my life? I think writing is my way of dealing with a lifetime of being the token female. Also…I love my Creator! He inspires me and speeds me onward in work and in life. I’d like to think that my love for Him is lived out by my characters. On the rare occasions when I feel “blocked” I pray. And I walk, read, watch movies, listen to music, visit with others and pray some more.

 

I’ve also been known to scrub the kitchen floor—once!—when I couldn’t face a particularly wrenching scene.

 

Scrub the floor?!?!? That is some desperation. I'll bet that wrenching scene turned out pretty epic as a result, though.

 

So, floor-scrubbing aside, what are your favorite and least favorite parts of the writing process?

 

R.J. Larson: My favorite part is when I’m lost in a scene. The words are flowing, the characters are interacting and living, and the whole writing process becomes a realm unto itself—every writer’s dream!

 

My least favorite part of the writing process is….  Hmm. *Stumped.*

 

If you were forced to pick a single favorite author, who would it be?

R.J. Larson: Donita K. Paul, because I enjoy her forthright feedback and her cozy fantasy plotlines—unless she’s writing about the Grawl, who is insidious enough to give me nightmares. When I read Dragonspell, I felt like a child again, ready for adventures in a fantasy world. Also, Donita has an amazing critique-eye; it’s enough to make me green-eyed with envy.

Donita is pretty much the queen of current CBA fantasy. She certainly opened up doors for the rest of us fantasy lovers.

I know King is the next book due out.  Can you tell us any exciting tidbits about it?

R.J. Larson: The action sequences just about did me in! Somehow, I always ended up writing them at midnight, then doubting myself. I’d fire off the finished scenes to my fourth brother, Joe, who fences and excels in martial arts—in addition to working in law enforcement. He (typical mindgame-playing fightmaster) would read the scenes and answer cryptically. “Yes.” “Keep going.” And, most disgusting of all, “There are many ways to skin a cat.” Augh!!! I wanted to reach through the email and attempt to shake Joe, which would have been an epic fail. I could almost hear him laughing.

However, in the last third of King, when my characters are fighting for their lives—a series of fights, actually—I sent Joe a detailed list of the weapons, props, terrain, motives, and goals, with a desperate plea: “What am I not seeing? It’s there, but it’s late and I’m too tired and too close to the scene.”

That time Joe actually offered advice, and his (brilliant!) answer went directly into Kien’s self-defense tactics. I’ll allow readers to guess the scene. Meanwhile, I owe my fightmaster a dinner out. 

I'll bet Joe is tickled pink to have his expertise go into your fiction! I'm sure your male readers will appreciate the authenticity behind it too.

What are you actively writing right now?

R.J. Larson: Right now, I’m taking a break from writing, as ordered by my family. The ‘rest’ is driving me nuts! I’m repaying them by baking and cooking and nagging them all. It won’t be long before they send me to my computer again—just as I’ve planned.  

Enjoy the break while it lasts . . . I'm sure the creativity is building up to bursting point!

_____________

Thank you so much for taking the time to feature here today. I'm sure all of my readers enjoyed learning more about you and your work!

You all can find R.J. Larson on her website: www.rjlarsonbooks.com/

She's also on Pintrest for you pinners out there: http://pinterest.com/rjlarsonbooks/

And, of course, you should like her facebook page, under her writing name, R.J. Larson (author).

Now, for the exciting part . . . the giveaway! Ms. Larson has generously offered the winner of this giveaway a choice between either Prophet or Judge. So go ahead and use the Rafflecopter options below to get your name entered! And be sure to thank Ms. Larson for her time today.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/0cd5241/" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway