Friday, 29 April 2016

Author Interview - LKJSlain @LKJSlain



 Author, LKJSlain is looking for readers to check out her latest book.



Hello, I’m Lisa. My pseudonym is LKJSlain. I have been writing for over twenty years now and I am not published. I need critique’, guidance and a chance.

MY: His Lisa, it is a pleasure to have you on the blog today.  Could you tell us about your writing journey so far.

 LS: Currently, I’m not published. Unless you consider my work online published. This is definitely my goal but I have been more than a little careful about doing it. My work needs editing and criticism. I know this. I need a lot of help. I’ve been doing this for over twenty years now, but I have never been to an editor or publisher. I am trying to make this the year, and this novel the book.

MY: What does your average ‘writing day’ look like?

LS: Lots of glaring intently at the screen and screaming for it to write itself. HaHa. To be honest, when I get on a roll, I get on a roll. I finished this novel beginning to end in about six weeks.

MY: Are there any authors that you particularly admire? And if so, why?

LS: You know, there are not tons. It sounds silly, (I know) but I’m not a big reader. (Please no one throw tomatoes?) I can tell you books that I’ve read that I loved- among them are, “Redeeming Love” by Francine Rivers. “Altered” by Jennifer Rush. “The House of the Scorpion” by Nancy Farmer. “The Lord of the Flies” by William Golding. “The Phantom of the Opera” by Gaston Leroux.

MY: What are you currently working on?

LS: Oh goodness, I’m always working on ten, twenty things? I can’t seem to stop. Also on wattpad is “ThyaTyra” which I am actively writing. It’s a sci – fi / romance about a married couple who are guardians of their sector and their first really difficult “mission” involving an ancient man and an old book. I’m also working on a collection of short stories (also on wattpad). The book is titled “Midnight Oasis.” I could go on, but that’s where there is for the moment. 

MY: If you could give advice to an aspiring author, what would it be?

LS: Don’t write what you know. Research, reach outside the box, etc. Try not to always write      “you”.

MY: Authors are often portrayed as being cat owners who drinks a lot of coffee. Is this true for you?

LS: HAHA, guilty. I own two sweet female kitties, and I (used to) drink a TON of coffee. I no longer      do due to some pretty serious health conditions.

 MY: What does your ‘perfect’ day look like?
           
LS: Time alone to myself. Lots of “Seven Days to Die” (it’s a video game) and the computer open so I can always jump on word and write. Evening with my husband and a great movie and possibly some friends and games.

 MY: What is your biggest vice?

 
LS: Eeek!

MY: If you could meet anyone from the past, who would it be and why?
           
 LS: Yeshua / Jesus Christ. Yes, I’m a believer, but I think it’d be interesting to sit and have a conversation with Him and attempt to understand what He thinks, feels, and believes about          the world today. I have a feeling He’d do/ say a lot of the same things, but I’d still be curious to   know.

MY: Where do you see yourself in five years?
LS: Hopefully published, hopefully in contact with someone trying for a film of my book. Also,    healed of my illness

                

Book excerpt -


As I lay in my daybed with lavender duvet pulled up to my neck, alone and groggy, only one thing passed through my mind; Why was it so quiet? I don’t remember it ever being so quiet.

            When I woke up, I remembered that it was October. The air had gone crisp when I last closed my eyes and all last week and the week before that, the leaves on the trees by the borders of my lawn had turned a myriad of brilliant yellows, browns and oranges. 


            I lifted my head to check the clock on my nightstand only to find it blinking that familiar 12:00… 12:00… Had the power gone out in the middle of the night? It must have. 

            Squeezing my tired eyes shut and then forcing them open again in a failing attempt to make them focus, I glanced around my room. My lamp was still on and as I turned, my open book fell from my chest and closed against the bed, revealing the title. “After Dark.” I moved it to my night stand and forced myself to sit up. My arms were shaky and felt like lead. I couldn’t understand why it seemed as if they couldn’t hold the weight of my own body. It was as if when I got to my mirror, I’d discovered that I’d gained at least seventy pounds in my sleep and when I put my feet to the floor and tried to stand, my legs felt the same way. My first step was shaky and I nearly fell over. Placing a hand on my mattress, I kept myself steady. “Get it together, Zora,” I said aloud, nearly laughing. “How much did you have to drink last night?” I turned my head to the nightstand to see the half full glass of wine. Apparently, not that much.

            I shambled over to my vanity and squinted at my reflection in the glass. I looked a complete, ghastly mess. The woman looking back at me appeared as though she’d had the worst night of her adult life. I had to chuckle as I pulled my bottom eyelid down and glared at the giant red spots around both of my peepers. My thick black hair was tussled to one side, and I was still wearing all of my clothing from yesterday. She looked like a ghost, her skin as white as paper with a hint of sickening yellow. “What did I eat?”

            I leaned over my vanity for a moment to think about it. I recalled stumbling in from my job at the office, taking phone calls from several angry people wanting to know why their insurance didn’t cover such and such, turning on the oxygen network, pouring a glass of wine, and popping in some left over chicken with rosemary butter and green beans. Then I ate alone, watched some Nora Roberts adaption that I didn’t like very much, and crawled into bed to read about Tokyo nightlife and drift off to sleep. All in all, it was a pretty boring night. 


            The night was perhaps made more boring and depressing by the fact that yesterday was my twenty eighth birthday… sad. 

            I went about my regular morning routine in the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and then came back to my room to turn off my lamp and gulp off the last of my wine, before realizing how hungry I was and going down the stairs to my small kitchen.
            Half way down the carpeted steps, something pricked my skin and caused me to freeze in my place. Again, I was struck squarely in the back of my head by how quiet it was. I stood very still for a few moments wondering why I felt this way. Are my ears plugged? Have I not registered the fact that I am awake yet? Am I sick? 

            My mind moved mercilessly over a massive amount of internal questions as I listened, barely moving, to the world around me. Where was the sound of the birds chirping? Where were my noisy neighbors saying goodbye as the husband jumped into his gray SUV and drove off to work? Where was Layla Rene’s dog barking loudly at the mail man? Or the sound of cars? Where was the sound of my corner neighbor’s kids? They almost always fought around this time of the morning for the front seat. I always heard them!

            “Relax, Zora. Maybe you just overslept,” I sighed, then forced myself to go down the rest of the way. The moment that I got to the kitchen, I knew something was wrong.



           

Where can I check out this book?


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