Hiya folks, thanks for stopping by.
If you don’t know my guesttoday you are in for a treat. One of the first authors I met when I stumbledinto the world of publishing, I was humbled by her generous spirit offriendship, especially considering how very talented she is at the keyboard. Iactually won a copy of her title ‘Storm’s Interlude’ in a contest and gleefullysat down to read. I couldn’t put it down. As a survivor myself, I wasenthralled by the premise and the way the heavy issue of a cancer battle wasbalanced so tastefully with the heart pounding, steamy romance. So, pull up achair and help me welcome my friend and fellow Wild Rose Press author, VonnieDavis.
Happy Thursday, Mac and ALL youlovely book lovers. We’re moving into Spring, the energizing time of the year. Don’tyou just love it? The white magnolia tree at the corner of our front porch isblooming, and I am thrilled, especially since we had snow on Monday. Mac, thankyou for opening your blog up to me, so I could share my writings with yourreaders.
My pleasure, Vonnie. I’m stokedthat you’re here. Can you tell? *grin* So, what was the germ of the idea behindStorm’s Interlude?
Often a snippet of a visualenters my mind. With Storm’s Interlude, it was a woman driving on a desertedroad at night and a man, wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and boots walkstoward her. I mentally saw this snippet five or six years before I beganwriting the story. There are several such snippets filed in the dusty recessesof my mind.
And what a snippet it was.Great opening scene. What is the first book you remember loving?
A book about an intelligentcrow. Don’t ask me the title. I was in second grade at the time.
You’re forgiven. I can’t evenremember being in the second grade. Whereis the oddest place you’ve ever pulled out a book?
A zippered compartment in anempty suitcase.
So, that is where that bookwent! LOL Besides a critiquing partner, is there someone you let read yourmanuscripts before submitting?
I belong to a writers’ groupand am the red-headed stepchild because I write romance and not literary works.I suffer through having my work torn apart, often crying on the way home. Consequently,I share only scenes I have concerns about, say those with several characters init. I’m always worried I’ll confuse the readers with multiple people speaking.Fortunately for me I’m married to a writer and a protective one, at that. Aspeople are making comments, he puts his arm around me and whispers words ofencouragement. When he feels I’ve had enough or can see the steam coming from myears, he speaks up. “If you’re through hanging my wife on the cross, tell hersomething positive about her writing.” One lady once quipped she saw nothingredeeming in my writing. Calvin has yet to forgive her. <grins>
*grinning back* Calvin soundslike a keeper. I would have been tempted to smack the critical cow. Oh, youweren’t finished. I’m sorry, proceed.
The only person who gets toread the entire manuscript is my agent. She does a line-by-line edit, askinghard questions like “why is she reacting this way?” She makes me delve deeperinto my characters’ psyches. We go back and forth with the manuscript two orthree times before she feels it’s ready to “shop out.”
So, cats or dogs?
We have a cat, Jazzie MilesDavis, known as Baby Puss for short. I’m not saying he’s spoiled, but he hashis own Twitter account and often tweets that he needs people to send himsnacks. Calvin grumbles because the cat has more followers on twitter than he.
I’m with Calvin. Out-tweeted bya cat is too embarrassing to be born. *Whispers, You go, Jazzie!* Since first becoming published, what wasthe biggest ‘Woot’ moment you experienced?
My first review. I cried. Allwriters hope their book will be enjoyed, perhaps even loved, but we carry somuch self-doubt about our work—at least I do—that when someone says they loveit, we are truly astounded. Talk about “warm and fuzzy”? Oh yeah!
Nice! But wait, I don’t like tothink about potential reviews and you can’t make me. Think of something else, Mac. Oh, I know, what is your typicalwriting session like?
I’m retired, so I am free fromso many obligations other writers have like children still living at homeand/or outside job. I write every day. The first few hours are spent answeringemails and visiting blogs. Then I read over what I wrote the day before, makinglittle tweaks, and then I move forward.
Twice a week Calvin and I takea writing day. We go to Bob Evans for breakfast. The waitresses there know usand hook me up to an IV of coffee. I’ve dedicated a book to them for all theirkindnesses. I write while Calvin reads the paper and fiddles on his iPad. Wespend a few hours there and then move to a coffee shop where I log in a fewmore hours of hard writing. Then on to a restaurant for supper and I writethere, too.
I often tell the story about writingmy first sex scene in a restaurant. I was deep into the moment with Storm andRachel. Our waitress was refilling our glasses of iced tea. “What’cha writin’?”Before I thought, I told her I was writing a sex scene. “Oh?” She steppedbehind me and began reading over my shoulder. “Oh my.” Her breathing gotheavier. “Oh my gawd.” She leaned over me to get a closer eyeful of my scene.“Lawd, have mercy!” She bustled off. Later I was at the dessert bar andoverheard our waitress talking to her co-workers. “I’m telling you she waswriting hot, up-against-the-wall sex.” My ego balloon puffed up. “…and she wasOLD, too.” Ego hisses out of balloon.
Oh my God, you have me laughingso hard. Having read that scene, I have to agree with the up-against-the-wallsex, but I hope you didn’t leave her a tip! Best advice you were givenconcerning your writing?
Calvin told me to write what Ienjoy reading and to keep writing. The more one writes, the better they become.
Yep, Calvin’s a keeper. Tell usa little about Storm’s Interlude please.
Blurb:
Nurse Rachel Dennison comes toTexas determined to prepare her new patient for a second round of chemo. Whatshe isn’t counting on is her patient’s twin brother, Storm Masterson. Despiteher initial attraction, Storm has two things Rachel can’t abide: a domineeringpersonality and a fiancée. Half Native American, with the ability to have”vision dreams,” Storm dreams about Rachel for three nights beforeher arrival. Both are unprepared for the firestorm of emotions their firstencounter ignites. Ultimately, it is Rachel’s past—an abusive, maniacalex-boyfriend—that threatens to keep them apart…and Storm’s dreams that bringthem together again.
I mentioned earlier a visualsnippet I got several years ago. Here’s how I turned it into the beginning ofmy novel.
Someoneswaggered out of the moonlit night toward Rachel. Exhausted from a long day ofdriving, she braked and blinked. Either she was hallucinating or her sugarlevels had plummeted. Maybe that accounted for the male mirage, albeit a verymagnificent male mirage, trekking toward her. She peered once more into the hotJuly night at the image illuminated by her headlights. Sure enough, there hewas, cresting the hill on foot—a naked man wearing nothing but a black cowboy hat,a pair of boots and a go-to-hell sneer.
Well, well, things really did grow bigger in Texas. Theman quickly covered his privates with his black Stetson. Rachel sighed. Theshow was evidently over. Should she stand up in her Beetle convertible andapplaud? Give a couple cat calls? Wolf whistles? Maybe not.
She turned down the music on the car’s CD player. Soundsof crickets and a lonely bullfrog in the distance created a nighttime symphonyin the stillness of this isolated stretch of country road. Lightning bugsdarted back and forth, blinking a display of neon yellow glow.
The naked man strode toward hercar, and Rachel’s heart rate kicked up. Common sense told her to step on thegas, yet what woman wanted to drive away from such a riveting sight? Still,life had taught her to be careful. She reached into her handbag and extractedher chrome revolver. Before he reached her car, she quickly slid her gun underthe folds of her skirt.
Justlet him try anything funny—I know how to take care of myself.
Both of his large hands clasped his hat to his groin. Hisface bore annoyance and a touch of chagrin. “I need a ride.” By his bearing andcommanding tone of voice, she guessed the man was used to giving orders andhaving them followed.
Her eyes took a slow journey across his face. Even in themoonlight, she could see traces of Native heritage. His shoulder-length ebonyhair, too long for her tastes, glistened against his bronzed skin. Proudarrogant eyes sparked anger.
BecauseRachel believed in indulging herself, she allowed her eyes to travel over hisbroad shoulders, muscular chest and tight abdominal muscles. She saw a thintrail of dark hair starting below his navel, knowing full well where it ended,and fought back a groan. Her eyes slid back up to lock on his. “You need a pairof pants, too.” Knowing her voice hummed with desire, she cleared her throat,hoping the naked man hadn’t noticed.
Helooked up at the sky for a beat. “Just my freakin’ luck! A birthday party gonebad, and now I’m bein’ ogled by some horny kid with damnable blue eyes.”
Whatthe heck was wrong with her eyes? She quickly glanced in her rearview mirrorand saw nothing amiss. She narrowed those “damnable blue eyes” and sneered.“Look, buster, I’m not the one prancing around Texas naked as a jaybird. I’llhave you know I’m hardly a kid.” She glanced down at the black cowboy hat.“And, furthermore, stop hiding behind that big ol’ Stetson. From what I saw, aFrench beret would do the job.”
There,let the arrogant fool stew on that while he strutted back to whatever rock hecrawled out from under. She slammed her car in gear and sped off.
Sheswore she wouldn’t look in her rearview mirror. Nope, she would not look. Likea magnet emitting a powerful homing signal, her eyes slowly slid to the glasssurface. He was standing where she’d left him, his Stetson tilted back on hishead, his hands fisted on his narrow naked hips and his mouth moving. He was nodoubt cussing her out.
*Snickeringand thinking I should have passed out fans at the door.* Well, Vonnie, wherecan we find Storm’s Interlude, and you?
BUY LINKS:
That’s easier said than done, I know. Two hours in the DMV can feel like a life sentence in solitary confinement, while that same amount of time in the cue for that for the roller coaster you are about to board is spent in excited anticipation while making friends with those around you.So, which am I, the smiler or the grumbler? Before being diagnosed with breast cancer, I admit I was a bit of both. Believe me, every second spent waiting to rid myself of the tumor was excruciating, but the experience also taught me to appreciate every moment, to chase after every new milestone and enjoy the pursuit for the adventure it is.
