Featured Author: Karen Frankola

Karen Frankola is here as part of her Chick Lit Plus blog tour for her novel, Appetites. In addition to answering some of my questions about writing, Karen treats us to a book excerpt and a guest post. Everyone who leaves a comment below will be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift card. Anyone who purchases a copy of Appetites before June 1 and sends their receipt to Samantha (at) ChickLitPlus (dot) com, will get five bonus entries. Appetites is free on Kindle May 18-19.

About the book:

Sarah hates her life. Even though she’s got a great job in Manhattan, she's on the wrong side of forty, chubby, and can barely remember the last time she had sex. It doesn’t help that her younger sister Max has the world’s best butt, despite a diet of burgers and beer.

Out of the blue, Sarah hears from Harry, the Brit she almost married twenty years ago. He's visiting New York in four months. Sarah refuses to see him unless she can lose a lot of weight—fast! Her solution? She asks Max to lock her up in her basement and feed her nothing but healthy meals. Max, a struggling waitress, agrees begrudgingly. She has her own set of appetites—for drink, drugs, and great-looking losers.

Sarah thinks a summer in Max’s basement will give her a new body, a fresh start with Harry, and the friendship she’s long craved from her sister. But things quickly go wrong. Can Sarah turn back time with the man she lost or will she and Max kill each other first? Can either sister ever learn to say no?

Guest post

Writing for the Ear

by Karen Frankola

Dialogue is my favorite thing to write. Once I get a handle on my characters, I almost feel as though they are coming up with their own words and I’m just eavesdropping.

One of the hardest challenges for a writer is to give her character’s different voices.  Unfortunately, in  many works, everyone seems to talk in a similar manner. I loved Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing, but all of his characters tended to speak like geniuses in a hurry. Well, it was a show about overachievers.

I think one of the most effective ways to write realistic dialog is to read aloud as you write. And early in the process, I’ll even record myself doing that and play it back.  It almost allows my characters to exist outside my own head. This can make me realize that they sound too similar, or don’t sound genuine.

In Appetites, it was a challenge to contrast the voices of Sarah and Max because they are sisters who share the same upbringing and a similar level of education. But Sarah writes for a living and likes to use words as a weapon, overusing big words and long sentences. Max says less, but the few words she says carry more weight.

One major driver of the plot in Appetites is that the sound of Max and Sarah’s voices is almost identical. I got the idea because my sister and I have very similar voices. When I say “Hi Mom” on the phone, I immediately have to say “It’s Karen” afterwards or my poor mother won’t know who she’s talking to. I put that into the book, but the deception that occurs because of it is pure fiction! I can’t imagine writing a novel about identical twins because it would be even harder to contrast their dialogue.

The most fun character to write dialogue for in Appetites was Harry, the British man Sarah almost married and now wants to reconnect with. He speaks much more formally than anyone else and of course, uses British expressions. I lived in England for a few years and it seemed most college-education people spoke that way.

In Appetites, a good chunk of the dialogue is actually email messages between Sarah and Harry. It’s tougher to keep a reader’s interest because you don’t have that back-and-forth. But email is so informal that it’s similar to conversation. I’m sure there is someone out there now writing a novel made up of tweets! Another challenge in writing Harry’s emails was that my spell-check kept trying to correct his British spelling.

As a reader, I love to listen to books on tape, and of course, dialog really comes alive there. A skilled actor can make up an author’s deficiencies by changing the pitch and tone of his or her voice for various characters.

The ultimate technique in writing for the ear is creating dialect. I admire authors who do this, but as a reader, it’s quite a distraction that slows down my reading. I think a little unconventional spelling of words goes along way.

A similar challenge is the use of regional slang and idioms. I wrote a memoir set in my home town of Pittsburgh where characters use words like yins (the plural you) and gumbands (rubber bands). If you’re trying to write realistic dialogue, you want to use slang. But you don’t want to confuse the reader, so you need to put it into context.

I hope the dialogue in Appetites rings true for my readers. My ultimate dream would be to see it turned into a movie and actually hear Sarah and Max arguing!

Interview with Karen Frankola:

Karen, how did you come up with the title Appetites?
I had the title almost from the beginning because it covers all of the book’s themes—the obvious desires of Sarah and Max for food, drink, and sex, and their much deeper desire for love. Not just romantic love, but love for each other. I think in general, women believe their appetites are bad, shameful, and unhealthy. I wanted to explore those feelings, which have impacted much of my own life.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Writing has pretty much paid my bills my entire life. I was a journalist for a long time and now work in corporate communications. I do all types of writing and help others communicate. Writing for work is much easier than writing creatively. A press release, blog, or white paper has a structure that simplifies the process. Not to mention, hard deadlines help you to focus!

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

A woman desperate to lose weight for a man she almost married does the unthinkable. Appetites – a novel for anyone with a problem saying no.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

Max, because she’s so different from me. She’s the kind of woman I spent my whole life being jealous of—because she’s beautiful and is indifferent to food. She’s also an alcoholic and has made a mess of her life, but I would still be jealous of her! I really wanted to explore her choices, because they are so different from my own. There is one point in the book where Max forgives one of the main characters for something that is really unforgiveable, because I honestly believe that’s what Max would do.

Are you like any of your characters? How so?

I am a lot like Sarah in that I have struggled with overeating for much of my life. I have also had trouble finding a balance between work and the rest of my life, although I’ve done a little better since I got married! And I have had a tendency to think about old boyfriends and wonder, what if? Sarah is a version of a woman I might have become if I had made different choices. I have never locked myself in a basement to lose weight, although I have to say in some ways it sounds very tempting.   

With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck on a deserted island?

Adam, the man both Sarah and Max fantasize about in different ways. He’s gorgeous, great in bed, and smart. Best of all, on a desert island I wouldn’t have to worry about him cheating on me!

What song would you pick to go with your book?

“In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. I know you could never use it in a movie again after Say Anything, but that song taps into the desire and longing I think we all have felt for someone at some point in our lives. An alternative would be “Just Say Yes” by Snow Patrol. Sarah is so obsessed with saying no to food that she has trouble saying yes to love.

How do you handle criticism of your work?

Gosh, it’s hard, but criticism is so important to improving. I used to teach at the University of Missouri and every day we did a group critique in the television newsroom of everyone’s work. I honestly believe one of the best predictors for success at work is a person’s ability to not just accept the criticism that comes your way, but to actively seek it out.

I really want to learn from my readers—about what they thought worked and what didn’t. Of course, you also have to realize that everyone has different tastes and not get too upset when people tell you they dislike your writing, without explaining why. I belong to a book club and for any given classic we read, half of the group doesn’t like it. It helps you appreciate the varying perspectives readers bring to a book.

Where do you prefer to do your writing?

I’m lucky enough to have a desk with a window overlooking our back yard and woods behind it. I often glance away from the computer screen to watch squirrels chasing each other, cardinals and blue jays flocking around our feeders, and sometimes even a deer nibbling away. My dog Rascal keeps me company, either napping on the couch next to me, or often curled up under my desk.

Where’s home for you?

A little over two years ago, my husband and I had the opportunity to move anywhere because I was working virtually. We liked New Jersey but were getting tired of the cost of living. We chose Durham, N.C. It’s amazing—-really friendly, highly educated people, and lots to do. I’m a little Type A, so I like the slower pace. I feel like I’m a better, more patient person when I live in the South. Plus I love seeing my daffodils come up in February!

Excerpt

When their food arrived, Sarah looked jealously at Max’s swaggering stack of three fluffy pancakes. Sarah had ordered was the spinach omelet, no toast, no home fries.

“So, do you do reference checks on your roommates?” Sarah asked.

“Sure, my HR department handles that,” replied Max, spreading the giant pat of butter in the center of her pancakes out to the edges in excruciatingly slow, even strokes. "It wouldn’t have mattered,” she continued. “She would have just given me the name of any lowlife she was friends with.”

“Did she even pay you any rent?”

“A month’s worth, but I gave three weeks of it back, except for what she stole, of course. Well, she said she was just borrowing it.”

“Hmm,” said Sarah, as she swallowed another small bite of her omelet. The smell of Max’s pancakes, mixed with the butter and the maple syrup she was now drenching over them, was almost overwhelming. It made her bland omelet—-she had also told them to hold the cheese-—taste almost like cardboard. Sarah put her fork down. Maybe Max won’t finish her pancakes and I can have a bite or two, just so it won’t go to waste?

“Oh, so you would have had her arrested, or sued her, or what?” Max asked, slicing off a large section of the pancake tower and stuffing it into her mouth.

Sarah shrugged. Neither of them talked for a few moments, while they focused on their meals. Sarah could never understand why Max was able to eat whatever she wanted and stay so skinny—-although she had to admit that Max could easily skip a meal. It was like Max never thought about food or took great pains to get a hold of it, but if something tasty was placed in front of her, she would enjoy it. If Max and Sarah were two cars driving down the interstate, Sarah would pull off every time she saw a new gas station with a tempting sign, while Max would just wait until she was on empty.

Sarah tried to get a conversation going, but her sister was so focused on plowing through her pancakes that Sarah ended up delivering an extended monologue about how much she hated her boss. When Max finished everything on her plate, Sarah felt so pained that she thought about coming come back the next day to get her own pancakes. She was starting on her third day of healthy eating, but there was no way it was going to last.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” Max said, flagging down the waitress. Sarah reached for the check as soon as it came.

“Sarah, for Christ’s sake, I can afford pancakes.”

“You get the next one,” Sarah said, pulling out her wallet.

“Whatever,” said Max, and a beat later, delivered a soft “thanks.”

“So, are you in a rush?” Sarah asked.

“Uh, well, I’m meeting this guy in the city-—we’re going on some yacht around Manhattan with an open bar, so I can’t be late.” Max described this as though she was planning to have her nails done, which was what Sarah’s afternoon plans were.

“So you’ve replaced Ed already?” Sarah asked. It was a stupid question because Max met someone new every night.

Max yawned.

“It’s just a guy who asked me out before I even met Ed. He was at the bar on Wednesday, and this time I said yes. He lives in Tribeca and is some kind of investment guy. He’s got a few clients in Montclair which is why he goes to McCabe’s a lot.”

Sarah tried to imagine a world where a rich, smart guy pounced the moment she broke up with her boyfriend. When she was growing up in Ohio, Sarah used to read Glamour magazine and imagined living in New York City, where handsome men in limos took her to fancy parties with champagne and lobster. She pictured herself dressed in some fantastic outfit that showed off her cleavage and small waist. Her hair and makeup would be perfect and her heels would be high enough so she could kiss her tall boyfriend while they slow-danced.

But that world never existed for Sarah. The only time she went to an expensive restaurant or hotel was for a work party. She would wear a cheap black dress because she was always planning to be thinner in the future and it didn’t make sense to spend money on something fancy she would never wear again. Her feet suffered from plantar fasciitis, no doubt caused by her excess weight, so she could never wear anything higher than a one-inch heel.

Sarah told Max to have fun and they hugged clumsily. When Sarah got home from the nail salon, she picked up her laptop and finally, there was a message from Harry, sent just a few minutes ago. He had written to her at ten-thirty on a Saturday night. Had he come home after a movie or dinner with his wife and tell her he would be upstairs in a few minutes?  Or perhaps he spent the evening at home watching T.V. with her, composing an email on his laptop?

I've stared at your message many times this week, trying to work out how best to reply.  If we are to keep corresponding, I must be honest - with both you and myself.

Firstly, let me apologise profusely. I clearly caused you great pain; indeed, it comes through even from this distance in time and location. You must know, however, that the last thing I ever wanted to do in my life was hurt you. So what happened, why didn’t I contact you?

About the author:

Karen Frankola wrote Appetites to explore the hard choices women make in love and work. Karen spent much of her career writing very short stories at news organizations like CNN and MSNBC, so creating a novel was challenging. She now does a variety of writing for corporations and nonprofit organizations. Karen is lucky enough to work mostly from home, with her dog Rascal curled up under her desk.

Karen grew up near Pittsburgh, where she spent much of her childhood reading books in the cemetery that bordered her family’s backyard. Karen moved to nine different states and England. Some of her favorite jobs were teaching journalism at the University of Missouri, working as a television news director, and handling video shoots for Deloitte around the world. She also spent a summer repairing motors at a steel mill and hopes to soon publish a coming-of-age memoir about that experience.

Karen and her husband Troy now reside in Durham, North Carolina, where they enjoy watching deer in the woods behind their house, lots of live music, beautiful biking trails, and great neighbors.

Karen is working on a sequel to Appetites and would love to hear what you think of it.

Connect with Karen:
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Featured author: P.J. Morse

P.J. Morse is on tour with Cozy Mystery Book Tours, and she's here today with her novel, Heavy Mental. Reviewers have described main character Clancy Parker as a rock 'n roll detective. P.J. Morse says this is definitely not your nana's cozy mystery.

About the book:

A musician’s gotta eat, which is why rock guitarist Clancy Parker takes on side gigs as a private eye. When she gets a new case involving a stolen necklace, Clancy's thrilled at the prospect of easy money.

The job turns out to be anything but. Soon enough, Clancy must dodge threats from disgruntled secretaries, unhinged society matrons and rampaging ice cream trucks. The only person who can provide answers about the necklace is her client’s sexy psychiatrist, but Clancy’s budding crush on him only leads to more trouble.

Eventually, Clancy must rely on all of her contacts— her stoner bandmates, her Socialist landlord, and her yoga-loving, flask-toting mother—to stop the thief from turning into a killer.

Interview with P.J. Morse:

How long have you been writing, and how did you start?

I was an editor and sometimes blogger for a news web site. One of my jobs was pulling out weird stuff from the local police blotter, which was fun, but it wasn’t creative beyond making jokes about stupid criminals. So, one day I’m riding with my husband in California. We have “Pet Sounds” by the Beach Boys blasting in the car, and I’m looking at all the palm trees and I decide that I’m going to use some of the crazy stuff I read in the blotter and start writing mysteries.

I started an outline, and I started talking to my brother, who used to play keyboards for a funk band in Northern California, and the next thing you know I’ve churned out a rock ‘n’ roll mystery!

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

Ever wondered what would happen if Jessica Fletcher entered a mosh pit? Find out in the rock ‘n’ roll mystery “Heavy Mental.”

How did you create the plot for this book?

I made myself a “book map.” I assembled all the main traits for the characters, and then I figured out where each character would be and what each character would do in the chapter. It’s all really uptight and not rock ‘n’ roll at all, but it helped me see where I was going, and I felt like I understood the characters and their motivations before I got started.

I like writing characters who do and say things I never would, as well as characters who do and say things I wish I could. Do you have characters who fit into one of those categories? Who, and in what category do they fall?

All of them! I am usually reserved and quiet, but the Marquee Idols all say what they are thinking, probably too much. I admire Clancy's bravery. She might do stupid things, but she's not a chicken. And Clancy's best friend, Muriel, is the queen of trash talk. She has so much to say that she's getting her own series, too!

Are any of your characters inspired by real people? Who?

None of the characters are inspired by real people, but my brother did tell me plenty of stories about band auditions gone wrong. There is nothing worse than losing a band member because it is hard to find someone else who plays well and who isn’t crazy! His band's bassist really did quit, and it took them forever to figure out what to do next.
Out of respect for my brother, I tried not to make any characters exactly like him because that would make Thanksgiving hell, and he asked me not to use any real names, but the band “Black Ice” is definitely a shout-out to his old band!

What song would you pick to go with your book?

“Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Camper Van Beethoven. The band got its start in Santa Cruz, which is where Clancy Parker started her career as a rock ‘n’ roll guitarist. The song title is appropriate – here’s Clancy, and she’s surrounded by all these people who might be fakers, and she needs to find out who’s real and who’s not.




Who are your favorite authors?

Carl Hiaasen is the man. My favorite is Basket Case, which is about an obituary writer who investigates the death of a rock star, is the ultimate in rock ‘n’ roll mysteries. Florida mysteries are the greatest because the characters are out of control. I like to think I write Florida mysteries that just happen to take place in California.

Tell us a book you’re an evangelist for.

If you are looking for another rock ‘n’ roll mystery, check out Anne Marie Stoddard. She just released Murder at Castle Rock, about a concert booker who must solve a death at an Atlanta concert venue. We didn’t know each other until meeting on Goodreads, and then I read the book and thought – wow, here’s two different people who are trying to push the limits of the cozy mystery a little and give it some rock ‘n’ roll edge.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

My favorite is from Joan Jett: “Girls got balls. They're just a little higher up, that's all.”

What are you working on now?

Exile on Slain Street, which is the second book in the Clancy Parker series. As usual, Clancy needs some money for the band's upcoming tour, so she takes a job as a bodyguard on a reality TV dating show that stars a past-his-prime grunge musician. Needless to say, Clancy does not get along with the women who would compete on a dating show!

Excerpt from Heavy Mental:

Chapter 1 — The Woman in Yellow

The lady didn’t see Anmol’s ice-cream truck coming. She didn’t even flinch at his rumbling sound system, which was blasting rap music that could be heard all over South Park, if not all over San Francisco’s South of Market District. She didn’t hear him yell as she crossed his path, “Ice cream! Fruit cream! Soy cream! Yo!”

Nor did she listen when Harold and I put down our beer bottles and shouted, in unison, “Look out!”

“Baby!” Anmol yelled. “Get a move on!”

The woman held herself in tight, as if she were in a bubble. She didn’t seem to know how to act in our neighborhood, so she froze up. For starters, she was driving a Jag, and her bob haircut was almost as black and as sleek as her car. Tailored and tidy, this classy sister was unlike the rainbow-haired tech geeks who dominated our part of San Francisco. She was one of those people who looked intelligent without seeming to have any skills whatsoever, except maybe on the tennis court.

She was clad in a beautiful, light, lemony-shaded shift and matching short jacket that just barely prevented her from breaking the cardinal fashion rule that one does not wear white after Labor Day. She had on glimmering black Olsen Twin sunglasses that blocked a third of her face, but the skin that was visible was creamy and perfect, even if it did seem just a shade too taut. I thought of how my mother’s face looked after she had her first face lift and wondered if they went to the same doctor.

Harold leaned over and whispered, “Oooh! Oooh! I'll be your backup. I'll pretend to read." He stuck his hand in his cheese nibbles, and then he stuck his nose in the Adlai Stevenson biography was reading. He got so excited when I got new clients that I wondered what he'd do during retirement without me.

Anmol leaned his turbaned head out of his truck to get a better look at the woman in yellow. “Damn!” he yelled, “If you weren’t so fine, I would be mad right about now!” Then he backed up and parked the truck as hipster computer programmers promptly sprang out of South Park’s live-work spaces, ready to relive their youth through Drumsticks and popsicles.

When Anmol's ice-cream truck paused for customers, the woman in yellow continued to float across the narrow street toward me and Harold. Although she never once acknowledged Anmol, she raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two of us. You don’t see teams like me and Harold all that often: a young redhead like me and an old man lounging in lawn chairs on the sidewalk, both of us drinking Heinekens in the early afternoon. Neither one of us liked to wait until happy hour.
    

“I’m looking for Ms. Parker,” the woman said.

“You’re looking at her,” I replied. I finished what was left of my beer and smiled.

Pulling her chin in ever so slightly, the woman stammered, “I thought you would be...older.”

I figured what she really wanted to say was “cleaner,” but I wasn’t exactly dressed professionally. No private investigator dresses well. The other ones I knew were schleppy dudes who favored Hawaiian shirts. However, that day was one of my good ones, as I was wearing a polka-dot secretary shirt and jeans I picked up at a thrift store in Berkeley.
As she was sizing me up, I was already returning the favor. I quickly processed the woman's car, outfit, and manner of walking. Although you wouldn’t have known it to look at me, I grew up with money, thanks to my father’s incredible knack for convincing people to pay big money for organic produce and imported European sweets. I didn’t fit in Dad’s world, though. I played music on the side, and I snooped on people for a living, so I had minimal access to Daddy's pocketbook. I knew how the higher rungs of society worked, but it didn’t belong to me, even if I was related to it. I liked to say that I could read the language of rich, but I preferred not to speak it.

Now, this woman spoke the language of rich fluently. She might have known some words I didn’t. Watching her impeccable posture, I imagined the woman floating through the world on a cushion of inherited wealth. Maybe she got dirty once or twice if she had a pony, like a lot of those girls I grew up with back on Cape Cod. But the woman in yellow sure didn’t look like the type to muck a stall.

Harold, my landlord and spiritual advisor, tried valiantly to be more interested in his thick volume about the life of a perennial presidential candidate. But he was already radiating dislike toward my potential client. I knew he couldn't help it. He'd been raised not to trust anyone who looked like they never had a real job. One time, when I confessed to Harold that my own family had been in the Social Register, Harold begged me not to repeat it again because he might have to lecture me for it. He went as far as to clap his hands over his ears.

The woman in yellow summoned the courage to approach me, held out her right hand, and declared, "Hello, Miss Parker. My name is Sabrina Norton Buckner." Sabrina darted a quick, dismissive glance at Harold, who responded by swigging from his Heineken. "I need to speak with you -" she tossed a second pointed glance at Harold "-privately."

I did not like the way Sabrina looked at Harold and had half a mind to tell her to take her business elsewhere. You work with me, and you have to deal with Harold. He sits out in his lawn chair every day, and he sees all my clients coming and going. On numerous occasions, he has steered me away from those who look like trouble or won’t pay up.

Then again, someone like Sabrina was bound to pay well. Women who dressed like that and who sported good face lifts were often involved in divorce cases, and they could always afford my rate because they were using their ex-husband’s money. I decided to take a chance. "Well,” I told her, “Let's head upstairs so my good friend Harold—this is Harold Cho, by the way, my landlord—can read in peace."

Harold stood and extended a damp, cheesy hand toward Sabrina, saying, "Pleasure to have your formal introduction." Sabrina, who possessed a perfect boarding-school sheen of manners, had no choice but to accept the handshake, but, when it was over, she held her hand out to her side as if she might catch plague. Harold grinned as he sat down.

As we headed for my door, Anmol finished his sales and rang his bell, advising Sabrina, “Open your eyes, baby! Next truck might not stop!” Then he threw the rap music on full blast, tossed me a free Drumstick, winked, and rolled on.

“Is your neighborhood always like this?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her, taking out my keys. “But you know what they say: Try it, you might like it.”

She looked nervous, but she still followed me through the entrance and up to my office.

About the author:

I write cozies your nana might not like. Then again, that depends on your nana.

I have two mystery series in the works -- one featuring the rock 'n' roll detective Clancy Parker and the other starring the erotic bakery entrepreneur Muriel Kovacs. The first novel in the Clancy Parker series, Heavy Mental, is out now. The first novel in the Muriel Kovacs series, Missionary Position, made me a quarterfinalist in the 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. It will be out soon.

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Featured Author: Helen Smith

Helen Smith is on tour with Cozy Mystery Book Tours to promote her book, Invitation to Die, a British mystery, just published by Thomas & Mercer. I'm happy A Blue Million Books is one of her stops.

About the book:

Twenty-six-year-old Emily Castles is out of work...again. So when famous romance author Morgana Blakely offers her a job helping out at a conference in London, Emily accepts. Just as eagerly, American blogger Winnie Kraster accepts an invitation from Morgana to attend as a guest, not realizing she has, in effect, accepted an invitation to die.

As a cast of oddball characters assembles at the conference hotel, grievances, differences, and secrets begin to emerge. When Winnie goes missing, and then is found murdered nearby, Emily begins to suspect that someone involved with the conference is responsible. Could it be one of the organizers, one of the authors, a member of the hotel staff, or even the supplier of the chocolates for the conference gift bags? Emily teams up with guest speaker and eccentric philosophy professor Dr. Muriel to find out.

Offbeat and engaging, this entertaining comic mystery is the first full-length novel featuring amateur British sleuth Emily Castles.

Interview with Helen Smith:

Helen, Invitation to Die is your sixth published novel. How long have you been writing, and how did you start?

I used to write terrible poetry when I was a child. My first piece of professional writing was a short radio play which was broadcast in the UK. I won an award for it in a new writing festival. I had already started writing my first novel so instead of following that up by writing more radio plays, I kept going with the book and was lucky enough to have that published. Even though my radio play was broadcast before that, getting my first novel published feels like the start of my career.

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

Invitation to Die: Amateur sleuth Emily Castles teams up with eccentric philosophy professor Dr. Muriel in this entertaining British mystery.

Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write?

I outline, but I find that the story develops as I begin to write, with some characters becoming more important and getting a bigger role than I had originally conceived for them. But I always have to know how the story will end before I start writing.

What books have you read more than once or want to read again?

I used to reread books all the time when I was a child. I rarely do it now, but books I’m planning to reread including The Liars’ Club by Mary Karr and The Interrogative Mood by Padgett Powell.

What’s your favorite line from a book?

I always find it difficult to choose just one. But the opening line in I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith is sweet: “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.”

I love that! If you could be one of your characters, which one would you choose?

I’d like to be Dr. Muriel, the eccentric philosophy professor who teams up with my main character to solve the mystery in Invitation to Die. She has a slightly off-kilter way of looking at things. She likes asking questions without worrying about coming up with answers. She’s a fun character to write.

What book are you currently reading and in what format (e-book/paperback/hardcover)?
I’m reading Feast Day of Fools by James Lee Burke on my Kindle. It’s my first James Lee Burke book and I’m enjoying it. I’ll definitely be reading more of his.

Is there anything in particular that you do to help the writing flow? Music? Acting out the scene? Long showers?

I think it’s a good idea to take some exercise every day. I’m terrible at doing this, but I have promised myself I’m going to start going to the local pool and swimming every day. I think that exercise helps you think, and thinking’s important for writing!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

I live in London, and I love it here. I feel very lucky to live in such an interesting place with pretty parks, historical buildings, and plenty of cultural events to keep me entertained.

If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I have just come back from a last-minute trip to Hong Kong. A friend was getting married there. I have lots of friends in Hong Kong, and I wish I could visit more often. I know I have just come back, but I’m going to say Hong Kong!

What are you working on now?

I have just finished the follow-up to Invitation to Die. It’s called Beyond Belief and it’s set in Torquay at a conference of philosophers, psychologists, mediums, hypnotists, and TV psychics. Celebrated magician and self-professed sceptic Edmund Zenon has offered £50,000 to anyone who can prove the existence of the paranormal that weekend. When a death by drowning is predicted in a vision, Emily is called in to investigate.

I’m just about to start writing the next book in the series which is set at the Edinburgh Festival. Emily takes part in a theater show in which the boundaries between reality and art begin to blur. She finds herself in danger when she tries to investigate the death of a fellow performer.

Both books sound great! I'm looking forward to hearing more about them.

About the author:

Helen Smith is a British novelist and playwright who lives in London. She’s the author of Alison Wonderland, Being Light and The Miracle Inspector as well as the Emily Castles mysteries.



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Featured Author: Marie Moore

Marie Moore is on tour with Cozy Mystery Book Tours, and today she stops at A Blue Million Books to talk about her cozy mystery, Game Drive, published by Camel Press.

About the book:

Sidney Marsh is a Mississippi-born, New York-based travel agent. In Game Drive, she and her best friend and business partner, Jay Wilson, are struggling to remain standing in a world where the ground is shifting. Their boss at Itchy Feet Travel has a new scheme to attract customers—-safari tour packages. He sends Sidney and Jay on a familiarization trip to Cape Town and safari country to check out the accommodations and confirm that the experience lives up to the hype in the brochures.

Sidney looks forward to the deluxe trip and so does Jay, despite his deathly fear of animals, both wild and domesticated. Their experience will be far wilder than either could have imagined. First Sidney stumbles upon a suspicious rendezvous and possible murder scene in Cape Town. After Sidney’s pocket is picked on a cable-car ride up Table Mountain, she suspects that someone in their group is an imposter, a suspicion that is soon confirmed. At Leopard Dance—-the luxury game lodge near Kruger National Park that serves as their base camp-—one of the other agents on the “fam trip” turns up dead.

Sidney carries on a risky flirtation with a handsome Afrikaner, who may or may not be the latest manifestation of the “Marsh Curse,” which seems to jinx her every relationship. And Sidney and Jay discover that they have far more to fear from predatory humans than wild animals.

Interview with Marie Moore

Marie, you've been a journalist, a scout for feature films, and have owned a travel agency. How long have you been writing, and how did you start?
    
I started writing for Mrs. Thorne, my third grade teacher. I’ve been writing off and on ever since.

What do you like best about writing? What’s your least favorite thing?

I love the imaginative process. As a kid, I loved playing dolls. For me, writing is sort of like that. My least favorite thing is being my own publicist, trying to get my books noticed and read. That very necessary part of today’s writing climate is extremely time-consuming for the author and tooting my own horn is personally repugnant. Those duties also eat time that I would prefer to spend writing. But it is necessary. The “be your own publicist” business is something that bestselling authors likely don’t have to do, but little peeps like me have little choice if they want their books to get out there. Before I was published, I had the naïve idea that once I was published, all I would have to do was write. Boy, was I wrong!
 
How did you come up with the titles of your books?

The Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery series features a Mississippi-born, New York-based travel agent. All the book titles, Shore Excursion (2012), Game Drive (2013) and Open Jaw (in process) are either travel terms or travel related.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

In my career I have been a junior-high science teacher, a weekly newspaper managing editor, and for fifteen years, I owned and operated a retail travel agency. Now I write full-time.

Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write? 

Once my characters are born in my head they seen to take over and go where they want to go. They are an unruly lot.

That's the best kind of characters! What’s your favorite line from a book? 

From George Bernard Shaw, in Pygmalion, “The great secret, Eliza, is not having bad manners or good manners or any other particular sort of manners, but having the same manner for all human souls: in short, behaving as if you were in Heaven, where there are no third-class carriages, and one soul is as good as another.”

Love it. Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

No. I sometimes see someone on the street with an interesting look, or hear a phrase, a snippet of conversation that I file away, but my characters are not based on real people.  Not only would that be intrusive and possibly annoying to my friends, but I also think that it actually works against the creative process. If you base your character in someone you know, then the character’s look, conversations, and actions are limited, even subconsciously, to what you know that person looks like, or his/her likes, dislikes, habits and actions. 

How do you handle criticism of your work?

I learn from it, unless I think the motive behind it is mean-spirited or deranged. I have few illusions about my work and know I have a lot to learn.

Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?

I work really early in the morning, 4:00-6:00 a.m., then stop to have coffee and the newspaper (yes, a printed newspaper) with my husband, take care of the day’s tasks, then work again later in the day. I rarely work at night unless I am under a deadline. I think better in the quiet of the morning.

Do you ever get writer’s block?

Yes. I expect everyone does.

What do you do when it happens?

For me, it’s best to just put the page aside for a while rather than agonizing or trying to force thoughts that aren’t forth-coming. After a while, the story comes around on its own, after my subconscious has had a chance to work on it. 

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Travel, cook, garden, paint. I share my life with a terrific husband, two great daughters and their husbands, and my sweet, sweet granddaughters. I am also close to my mom and brother and his family. We enjoy being together as a family.

If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go? (Don’t
worry about the money. Your publisher is paying.)

Maybe someday...! The island of Iona, off of Western Scotland, is next on my list, and Brasov, Romania.

What are you working on now?

I am currently writing the third novel in The Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery series, set in India and Nepal, and titled Open Jaw.

Can't wait! I hope you'll come back and tell us about it when it's out.

About the author:

Marie Moore is a native Mississippian. She graduated from Ole Miss, married a lawyer in her hometown, taught junior high science, raised a family, and worked for a small weekly newspaper—first as a writer and later as Managing Editor. She wrote hard news, features, and a weekly column, sold ads, did interviews, took photos, and won a couple of MS Press Association awards for her stories.

In 1985, Marie left the newspaper to open a retail travel agency, and for the next fifteen years, she managed the agency, sold travel, escorted group tours, sailed on nineteen cruises, and visited over sixty countries. The Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery series was inspired by those experiences.

Marie also did location scouting and worked as the local contact for several feature films, including Heart of Dixie, The Gun in Betty Lou’s Handbag, and Robert Altman’s Cookie’s Fortune.

In mid-1999, because of her husband’s work, Marie sold her travel agency and moved to Jackson, Mississippi, then New York City, Anna Maria Island, Florida, and Arlington, Virginia. She and her husband now live in Memphis, Tennessee, and Holly Springs, Mississippi.

Game Drive (April, 2013, Camel Press) is the sequel to Marie’s first novel, Shore Excursion (April, 2012, Camel Press) which introduced amateur sleuth Sidney Marsh. In February, both books were specially chosen for the onboard libraries of Holland America and Seabourn Cruise Lines, and added to the shelves of The Travel Institute’s Bookstore.  Marie will be featured in the May issue of Southern Writer’s Magazine, and spoke May 4, 2013, on a travel mystery panel at the 25th annual Malice Domestic Mystery Conference in Bethesda, Maryland. Marie is a member of Sisters in Crime.


Connect with Marie:
Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Publisher | Amazon

The Fantastic 4 Cozy Mystery Book Tour Giveaway

There will be four prize packages:

Prize 1 (US/Canada only)
* a Kindle Touch
* a $15 Amazon.com giftcard

Prize 2 (International)
* a Kindle copy of Topped Chef and Bowled Over
* a $15 Book Depository giftcard

Prize 3 (International)
* a Kindle copy of Murder on the First Day of Christmas & Game Drive
* a $15 Amazon.com giftcard

Prize 4 (US/Canada)
* your choice of a cozy mystery paperback (up to $25 in value)

To enter:
1. Fill in the form here.
2. There is no requirement to follow any of the blogs participating, but we hope you will support these amazing blogs by following them. They do a great job, many of whom host for us every month.
3. Giveaway ends on May 15, 2013 at midnight and the winners will be contacted via email.  

Featured Author: Beate Boeker

Cozy Mystery Book Tours brings Beate Boeker here on her tour for 
Delayed Death, the first in the Temptation in Florence series. Banker's Death, the third book in the series, was just published in April.

About the book:


What do you do when you find your grandfather dead half an hour before your cousin's wedding? You hide him in his bed and tell everyone he didn't feel like coming.



Delayed Death is an entertaining mystery set in Florence, Italy. When Carlina finds her grandfather dead on the day of her cousin's wedding, she decides to hide the corpse until after the ceremony. However, her grandfather was poisoned, and she becomes the attractive Inspector's prime suspect. On top of that, she has to manage her boisterous family and her luxurious lingerie store called Temptation, a juggling act that creates many hilarious situations.



Delayed Death is the first mystery in the series Temptation in Florence. The second, Charmer's Death, and the third, Banker's Death, are also available.

Interview with Beate:

How did you come up with the title of your book?

As my heroine hides her grandfather to save her cousin's wedding, the title Delayed Death came naturally. In the beginning, it was only titled Florence. My novels usually start out with the name of the place or a certain atmosphere and only get their titles much later. Once, I worked on a novel called “snow.” It was later renamed A Little Bit of Passion, but for a long time, it was just “snow” to me.

Do you have a "day job?"

Yes, I work as a global marketing manager for a company that manufactures high-end fountain pens.

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

Cozy mystery w/ mischief & humor in Florence. Taciturn Commissario, high-end lingerie store & crazy Italian family. http://t.co/FAoclak73S

Did you have any say in your cover art? What do you think of it?

Luckily, as I'm an indie author, I was able to choose the cover myself. I love those shutters, particularly if they're all in a row.

They do look great. When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?

Oh, no. I know the heroine somewhat, and the hero, but the rest only develop throughout the novel. Sometimes, new people just walk in, and I have to shift my plot to accommodate them.

How do you name your characters?

I look up Italian girl and boy names in the Internet, making sure they don't sound too similar, don't look too similar and don't start with the same letter to avoid confusing my readers. Once, I name a hero Lester and was told that that's an impossible name. I renamed him Marc to avoid problems. :-)

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

I'll enclose the excerpt with my favorite scene. It's the first time when the investigating officer, Garini, and my heroine, Carlina talk without being interrupted.

Who are your favorite authors?

Agatha Christie, Georgette Heyer, Mary Steward, Sarah Caudwell, Elizabeth Peters . . . the list is quite long!

Where’s home for you?

As I lived abroad when I was a child, I don't have deep roots and am happy pretty much anywhere where women have the same rights as men. I need my immediate family around me, though, otherwise, I get homesick for them. I'm German and live in Germany, but I chose to write in English because I found more support for a beginning writer in the US. Now, I'm slowly starting to translate my short stories and novels into German, too.

Name one thing you couldn’t live without.


My family.

Your last meal would be...

grilled fillet of fish, salad, hot chocolate cake.

You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?


Go for brunch with my friends, take an afternoon nap, take a walk during sunset, read.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

"If you want it, you can do it." I'm not sure who said that, but I think it's a great motto!

Yes it is. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Somewhere in the South, in a university city by the ocean. It would have to be in the South to have it warm, in a university city to avoid being a dead place in off-season, and by the ocean because I love to look out to the sea. I would have a small house with a great view, and there would be bicycle roads everywhere through town. Does such a place exist? If yes, do tell me, so I can make long-term plans to move there!

Oh yeah, there are a lot of little towns like that. What about traveling? If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I would go on a round trip all over the world to visit all my friends, even those I have only met via the Internet so far, and I would stay some weeks at every place to avoid being stressed.

What are you working on now?

I'm currently plotting the 4th novel in the series Temptation in Florence. It's a lot of fun, and I didn't expect that after having written three novels with the same cast of people. But they grew on me, and I would miss them if I didn't have them around anymore.

I can't wait to hear more about it!

Excerpt from 

Delayed Death

"Where did you find your grandfather?" Garini asked.

Carlina throat tightened. The preliminaries were over. Now came the hard part. "Grandpa sat at the kitchen table." Her voice cracked.

"Go on."

She felt as if he was pushing her bit by bit forward, until she would drop off a cliff. "My cousin . . . Emma threw a fit."

His eyebrows twitched. "Why?"

"Emma was the bride! His death destroyed her wedding."

Commissario Garini looked as if he had no clue what she was talking about.

Do you have no imagination at all? "Can you picture the bride coming up to church and saying that her grandfather just died?" Carlina closed her eyes. It was easier to speak without looking at the man made of steel next to her. "Everybody bursting into tears, the wedding canceled, no dancing, no party, the flowers wilting, the ceremony postponed, the honeymoon annulled . . ." She shook her head so hard, she felt the edge of the shelf beneath her hair.

"I like the wilting flowers," he said. "Nice touch."

Her eyes flew open. I hate you.

He returned her gaze without emotion. "Go on."

Another step closer to the edge. "In the end, we said it would make no difference to my grandfather if we pretended he had died later, but for Emma, it made all the difference in the world."

"Interesting." His voice was dry as dust.

Damn that man. He wanted to provoke her, and he managed all too well. “We had another reason, too.”

“Well?”

“The doctor told Uncle Teo to avoid stress because of his heart. He almost forbade him to join the wedding party. Emma and I were afraid that Uncle Teo would have a heart attack if we told him in the middle of the wedding.”

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow but didn't comment. “What happened then?”

Carlina took a deep breath, but for once, the smell of dust and boxes and brand-new products, the smell of her own universe, failed to soothe her. Where had all the oxygen gone? "Everybody could see my grandfather through the kitchen window, so we decided to put him into bed."

"Fully dressed?" His eyebrow twitched.

"Emma undressed him, but she forgot the socks."

"What were you doing in the meantime?" He sounded as if he thought she had used the interim to dance a solitary waltz in the kitchen.

Carlina clenched her teeth. "I was sick in the bathroom."

"So you did feel some emotions. Congratulations." His voice was vitriolic enough to make a hole into the floor if it dripped.

Don't reply, Carlina. Ignore him.

"Let me get one point clear," Garini said. "If I understood correctly, you were both fully dressed for the wedding in long evening gowns."

"Mine was long." Carlina looked at her hands. "Emma's was short."

"Both with high heels, I assume?" His light eyes seemed to pierce her.

"Yes." Carlina glared at him. "Want to know our hairdos as well? If you wish, I can send you a picture."

"That would be helpful," he said. "Wasn't it difficult to carry a dead man in that outfit?"

"It was."

"Anything unusual strike you?"

Carlina wanted to hit his immobile face. "I don't do this kind of thing every day, if that's what you mean!"

"I meant with the body."

Carlina crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I've never seen a body before. Ever. I wouldn't know if anything was unusual, even if it came up and bit me in the face." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Ugh. Didn't want to say that."

He laughed.

Her gaze flew to his face. He knew how to laugh? The laughter transformed his lean face, made his eyes sparkle. He looked like a different man. Carlina bit back an answering grin.
He looked at her, his head placed to one side, as if he was considering something. "Would you describe how you carried the body?"

Carlina's face twisted.

"Please."

Her mouth dropped. He could be polite? She took a deep breath. "Grandpa was sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were open. Emma nudged him, and he fell to the side. I - I managed to catch him before he fell. He was heavy - and warm."

"Warm?" His sharp voice interrupted her.

"Yes." Carlina swallowed. "I said to Emma he must have died a short time ago."

"But you were sure he was dead?"

Carlina's mouth dropped open. "Oh, Madonna, yes, of course. If you had seen him . . . there was no doubt."

"Was it cold in the apartment?"

"No. It was stifling. I remember thinking so when I came through the door. It smelled of peppermint." Her throat hurt at the memory. "Grandpa used to eat peppermint drops all the time." Don't cry, Carlina.

"What happened then?"

"I couldn't make him sit up again." Her throat tightened. "Emma said I should place his head on the table, but it felt so . . . irreverent." Damn. She shouldn't have used that word. Nothing in her behavior had led him to believe that she gave a damn about reverence for the dead. She cringed and waited for a scathing comment from Garini. When nothing came, she looked up at him.

His light eyes searched her face. "Go on." It didn't sound quite as commanding as before.

"I made Emma take his feet. We carried him to his bed. It felt . . . indecent, and there was that smell."

His eyebrows pulled together. "What smell?"

"I . . I don't know. I've never smelled it before. Sort of sweet, but in a cloying way."

"And then?"

"And then I was sick." She felt sick now.

"What did his face look like?"

Carlina's mouth was dry. "I tried not to look. I wanted to remember him the way he had been."

"So you didn't see anything? Not a glimpse?"

Carlina swallowed. "It was . . . bluish."

He gave a sharp, short nod. "Did Emma say it had been difficult to undress him?"

"No." Carlina shook her head. "She was real quick. But then, she was in a hurry."

"I see." The ironic note was back in his voice.

Carlina pulled herself together. "I thought it wouldn't make a difference. I only wanted to help Emma." She sounded pleading now. "I also planned to get up early the next morning, to find him. Then nobody else would have suffered the same shock."

"But you didn't?"

"No." Carlina could feel herself blushing. "I overslept." He'll think I'm a total loser.

"Uncle Teo found him."

"His twin."

"Yes." Carlina sighed. "I was so glad that he didn't have a heart attack right there and then. However, later, just as Marco wanted to sign the death certificate, he . . ."

Garini held up one hand. "Hold on. Your mother told me Marco was called because your family doctor was ill."

"That's right."

"What's the name of your family doctor?" Garini was back to his true form. He shot his questions like bullets at her.

"Enrico Catalini."

"Is Marco the official stand-in for Signor Catalini?"

"I don't know." Carlina frowned. "But my mother wanted to have Marco because he's a family member. He married my cousin Angela some months ago."

Garini's light eyes narrowed in thought.

Carlina was glad she had chosen to sit. The shelf in her back gave her a bit of much needed stability to face those x-ray eyes of his.

"What happened next?"

"Uncle Teo exploded into the kitchen and made a big scene because Grandpa still had his socks on." She sighed. "I didn't know he always took off his socks first when he undressed. I never even thought about his socks."

The Commissario didn't comment.

Carlina threw him a glance. No sympathy there. "Next thing I knew, Uncle Teo called the police." Something scratched her ear. Carlina reached up and blushed. Damn. She still had the bra and slip from the mannequin over her shoulder. What a sight she was! She pulled them off with a quick move and stuffed them behind her back. If only he didn't start laughing.

His light eyes never wavered. "Why didn't you stop your Uncle Teo?"

Carlina bristled. "How could I? Wrestle the phone from his hands?"

"For example." His voice was mild. "I'd have thought you're a woman with enough resources." For some reason, it didn't sound like a compliment.

"Uncle Teo turned beetroot-red." Carlina didn't look at Garini. She didn't want to see the disbelief in his eyes. "I was afraid he would have a heart attack if I stopped him. Besides, all the family was listening in.”

"Fine." His voice sounded hard. "And can you explain why you didn't tell me the truth when I came?"

She looked at her hands. They had clenched themselves into a tight knot. "I wanted to, but you came early. When I came downstairs, the gang, I mean my family, had told you everything."

"Everything but the truth."

"Well." Carlina's felt short of breath, as if something strangled her. "I wanted to speak to you alone." She lifted her gaze and frowned at him. "You remember that, don't you?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "You didn't try very hard."

Carlina closed her eyes for an instant. "I didn't want to shake my mother. She was so upset."

"Was she?"

How she hated his snarky questions. "Yes, she was!" She balled her fists. "I don't know if you saw her cushion?"

"I did."

"Well, she usually carries that cushion around with her when she's on the road, but in the house, she doesn't take it. When she came up to me and had that cushion in her arms, I knew she was shaken to the core."

He blinked. "Are you telling me your mother never leaves the house without a cushion?"

Oh, God. She shouldn't have mentioned it. "Yes." She hoped her voice conveyed  dignity.
"It's a little idiosyncrasy."

"Did she take it to the wedding?" He sounded intrigued.

"Yes."

"And did she use it?"

"I don't know why you need to know that! It doesn't have anything to do with my grandfather." Carlina pressed her lips together.

His mouth twitched. "Humor me."

"Oh, all right." Carlina sighed. "She used it to sleep in Church."

"I take it the service wasn't fascinating?"

Carlina suppressed a giggle. "It was the sixth family wedding this year."

"In that case, I understand completely."

Carlina smiled. "Later, Mama used the cushion to sleep on the table."

"She slept on the table?" Now he sounded scandalized.

"Just with her head." Carlina hastened to add. "It doesn't matter; everybody is used to it. In fact, I think it's very considerate of her."

He blinked. "In what way?"

"Well, we always share a taxi back, and when she's tired, she simply goes to sleep. Other mothers would start to nag until the party is broken up."

"I see." His tone spoke volumes.

He thinks we're a bunch of idiots. Carlina stared at her hands and concentrated on relaxing them. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that he still leaned against the door frame as if he belonged there, a relaxed panther.

From the street, she heard the faint noise of people walking by, talking, laughing. Inside, it was so quiet, her own breathing seemed too loud.

"To sum up, Signorina Ashley. You moved your dead grandfather because you didn't want to upset your cousin Emma. You allowed your great uncle Teo to call the police with a crazy tale because you didn't want him to have a heart attack. You lied to the police because you didn't want to upset your mother Fabbiola. I'm impressed. You're quite the philanthropist."

About the author:

Beate Boeker is a traditionally published author since 2008 and has 11 novels and short stories online available. Some of them were shortlisted for the Golden Quill Contest, the National Readers' Choice Award, and the "best indie books of 2012" contest.



Beate is a marketing manager by day and a writer by night. She has a degree in International Business Administration and her daily experience in marketing continuously provides her with a wide range of fodder for her novels, be it hilarious or cynical.



Widely traveled, she speaks German (her mother language), English, French and Italian fluently and lives in the North of Germany together with her husband and daughter.



While 'Boeker' means 'books' in a German dialect, her first name Beate can be translated as ‘Happy’ . . . and with a name that reads ‘Happy Books,’ what else could she do but write novels with a happy end?



Although being German, she has chosen to write in English because she appreciates the professional support and training opportunities a writer can find in the US.


Connect with Beate:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon author page | Book trailer

Delayed With Death Book Tour Giveaway

Cozy Mystery Book Tours is offering a chance to win a $25 Amazon.com giftcard or Paypal cash!
To enter, fill out the form.
The giveaway closes on May 26, 2013. Winners will be notified by email.
Cozy Mystery Book Tour will be giving away copies of the books of the six May authors on the right sidebar, so follow their Facebook page for a chance to win one of those.

Featured Author: Andy Nieman

"I could not stop drinking."
"I could not stop sticking that needle in my arm."
"I could not get my life together."
"No matter how I tried, I always failed."

"Until...I learned the truth."

Free Man Walking is Andy Nieman's inspirational autobiography about how his life turned from one of alcohol, drugs, and prison to one of a college graduate, pastor, husband, and father. As Andy says, "If you are a chronic alcoholic or drug addict whose life appears to be totally hopeless, or if you are living with one, this is a book for you."

About the book:

Over 10 years in prison. Hooked on heroine cocaine and drugs for 23 years. A chronic alcoholic for 27. Homeless. Eating out of garbage bins. Born into an alcoholic home. Molested by a pedophile in a residential school for three years. Surviving on skid row for 10 years. Living with the threat of suicide on a daily basis. Now this same person has a university degree, is a pastor, an officer of the Legislative Assembly, a poet, a husband and a father. This true story will give you a unique look into a world few know about or experience. Once you read this book, you will know God is real. You will be left with no other alternative because this story will touch you like you never thought possible. If you are a chronic alcoholic or drug addict whose life appears to be totally hopeless, or if you are living with one, this is a book for you.

How long have you been writing, and how did you start?

I have been writing in various forms for about thirty years now. I have always been a word monger and enjoyed doing crosswords, word scramble and find-a-word puzzles. Then I realized I had a flair for putting words together that rhymed, and I found other people enjoyed what I was writing. Since I enjoyed writing poetry so much, I stuck to that genre and that genre only until I embarked on writing Free Man Walking.

What inspired you to write this book?

As I told people of various events that happened to me throughout my life, I kept getting the comment, "That's interesting. That's a story that needs to be told, you should write a book!" Since I was receiving this same response from so many different people it inspired me to put pen to paper, ahh, I mean finger tips to keyboard, and decided I would get it done. I was also inspired by a walk-in clinic medical doctor I went to see once and since she did not know me I asked her if she would be willing to provide me with an honest critique as to what she thought of my writing. At the time I asked her, I had sixty pages written and had no idea if my writing was something people would want to read or not. I sent her a copy via email and after she read what I had written she said, and I quote, "You have a gift for writing. I could not stop reading and now you better finish it because I want to know what happens next! And let me get your autograph before you are a world-famous author and don't want to know me anymore." I laughed, but inside, her words inspired me tremendously and reassured me that I need to get this book done! It was her words that drove me to completion of this project.

How long did it take you to write Free Man Walking?

Would you believe eighteen yrs!? The book is a long-time dream of mine, and I wanted it to be what I consider my masterpiece. So I took my time and put my very best into it. As a result, all those who have read it thus far are telling me it captures their attention so completely that they have a hard time putting it down. I had three people who said they enjoyed it so much they read the whole book in one day!

That's the best kind of praise. What do you hope readers will get from this book?

The inspiration that there is hope for every single person no matter how bad of a "hand" life may have "dealt" them. As long as they still have breath in their lungs, they still have a chance to make something very positive of their life situation when they totally trust and obey the teachings of Jesus.

How did you come up with the title of your book?

I knew that when a prisoner finishes his time, and as he is walking towards the gate on his Release Day, a guard yells out, "Free man walking!" and they open the gate for him to go free. Then it hit me that...I am a free man walking too. A free man walking that is never looking back or going back to do time in a prison ever again.

Tell us about your favorite scene or chapter in the book.

Chapter Sixteen: (It's in the book excerpt). In this scene, it is the very first time I have ever tried cocaine, and I describe in detail how it feels. Also in this scene, I experience my first overdose on cocaine, and I go into detail as to how that scary experience feels.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Yes, I am the Yukon Child and Youth Advocate.

What is your elevator pitch for Free Man Walking?

Have you ever read a book that actually made you laugh, cry, get mad and feel totally uplifted with your faith in God and humanity completely restored? If not, this is a book that does exactly that. You will feel, smell, taste and believe that you are the one living this real-life story as it unfolds, and you will be so engrossed in the story you will forget about your surroundings completely.

Why did you decide to write Free Man Walking?

So many people kept telling me that I need to put my life story in a book for others to be inspired and to see that any life can be changed.

Do you outline or write by the seat of your pants?

I write from the seat of my pants, straight from my heart and directly into yours.

How did you come up with your cover art?

That is me on the front cover holding up handcuffs and a Bible dressed nice and clean and with a great big smile on my face. I wanted people to see that I am now free from the bondage of prison, because of my obedience to the Bible which has made me totally happy, clean and sober!


What song would you pick to go with your book?

"Simple Man," by Lynyrd Skynrd.



Which author would you most like to invite to dinner, and what would you fix him?

Nathaniel Haney. I would fix him some moose meat spaghetti.

What book are you currently reading and in what format (e-book/paperback/hardcover)?

Endtime Prophecy by Nathaniel Haney. Hardcover.

Who are your favorite authors?

God. Paul Reynolds. Nathaniel Haney.

What are your favorite books...

a) as a child: The Cat In The Hat
b) as a teenager: A Stone For Danny Fisher
c) as an adult: The Bible


Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?

I have to get away by myself to write where there are no distractions. I can write all day any time of the day, but especially in the morning.

Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

In an isolated location where I will not be disturbed. An ideal holiday would be by myself pouring myself into what I am writing. Doesn't matter when.



Name one thing you couldn’t live without.

The love of Jesus and my family.

If you could only keep one book, what would it be?

The Bible of course. Smile.

Your last meal would be...

A T-Bone moose steak with lots of fat, macaroni and cheese and a baked potato with a coke.

Would you rather work in a library or a bookstore?

Bookstore.

You won the lottery. What’s the first thing you would buy?

My house.

Would you rather be stranded on a deserted island or the North Pole?

Deserted island.

You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?

Travel to Vancouver, British Columbia and go to the beach.

Where would your dream office be?

In the bush in the Yukon by a lake.

Where’s home for you?

Carmacks, Yukon Territory, Canada.

Tell us one weird thing about where you live.

Where the water comes out from the pump house it never freezes in the winter, even when it gets forty below and all the rest of the river is solid ice.

One nice thing.

It is quiet, and you can have more than three dogs.

And one fact.

It is the "hub" of the Yukon.

Do you ever get writer’s block?

Never get it. Writer's block comes from pressure that an individual allows to be put on him/herself. I write for enjoyment and for inspiration.

Is there anything in particular that you do to help the writing flow?

Sit down and think about where I want to go in the story and when it starts to flow I start writing.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

"The past is a nice place to visit but a lousy place to live" (Unknown)

Love it. What three books have you read recently and would recommend?

A Tale Of Three Kings by Gene Edwards; The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson; and Free Man Walking by me. Smile.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Being out on the land hunting with my friend Bert Desmarais, going to church, and learning new songs on my guitar.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Somewhere in British Columbia, probably Vancouver.

If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?
New York

What are you working on now?

Free Man Walking 2.

Excerpt From Free Man Walking

I know it sounds like an age old cliché and most people who don’t know, think it’s a tactic to scare people away from trying it, but once I got my first taste of cocaine at the end of that syringe… I fell in love with it IMMEDIATELY! No two ways about it! This was THE HIGH to beat ALL highs! No question about it! The search for relief was over! Once I had drained all the cocaine contents into my blood stream and pulled that syringe out of my arm I was on cloud ten! I found what I was looking for! I finally found INSTANT and I mean INSTANT relief and an instant escape from myself and reality! When I pulled the syringe out of my arm immediately the drug made me feel like I was in another world where everything, I’m telling you EVERYTHING became BRIGHTER! The lights were brighter, the people were brighter, the environment was brighter, the streets were brighter and to top it all off my mind was as sharp as the proverbial tack! I could speak a mile-a-minute! I was floating in the Twilight Zone! I was the Master of the Universe! I was “Joe Cool” “JayZee” “Mick Jagger” “Valentino” and the “King of Rock N’ Roll” all rolled into one and ALL AT ONCE BABY! WHAT? Ya wanna’ talk with ME, the King of the Universe? Let’s get it on BABY! I can TALK WITH THE BEST! My shyness went away. My rotten teeth went away. I wasn’t an alcoholic anymore are you kiddin’ me!? I’m the King of my universe I CAN DO ANYTHING!

Well, sorry to burst your balloon buddy and sorry to have to hit the “reality button” on you but it all lasted the grand sum and total of a whole fifteen minutes! And before you know it my rotten teeth were back, my confidence grew wings and flew out the window as shyness took over its spot and reality slapped me on the back and showed me his ugly face again. HEY! WHAT AM I DOIN’ BACK HERE? GET ME OUTTA HERE! I DON’T NEED THIS DREARINESS! I WANT MORE! I NEED MORE! GIMME, GIMME, GIMME! I would spend the next three years day in and day out, endless days upon endless nights seeking to feel, seeking to just get a small taste of that amazing feeling just one more time, but it would never come to be. Nothing even came close to resembling that very first time I felt like the King of my universe.

I did everything short of selling my body to get money so I could get more “coke” so I could try with all my heart and try with all my soul to feel what I felt on that very first time I pushed cocaine down the walls of that syringe and into the mainline of my blood stream. Every time I chased that “high” it left me feeling cold in my soul and feeling “used”. It left me feeling like a fool yet I COULDN’T STOP the chase. I HAD TO HAVE MORE. The drug DROVE me. It RULED me. It CONSUMED me. It PUSHED me to my physical, emotional and suicidal limits. It drove me to the place where I wanted the drug more than alcohol (now that’s a story in itself), I wanted cocaine more than food, more than sleep, more than sex, more than money, more than any of my friends. When I was simply a practicing alcoholic at least my friends could trust me in their homes and with money and with other important things. Once the “coke” took over, it stripped me of every fiber of decency and of any shred of morality I had left. Even to the point where I lied, cheated and stole even from my closest friends. It got to the point where some of my friends wouldn’t even allow me into their homes because they knew I would steal from them. I am sad to say that I have taken some of my friends most important sentimental valuables and sold them. That is the “grip” cocaine can have on a person.

Every dollar I made went to “coke”, every dime and every penny. That was the “grip” it had on me. And any chance I got, I would increase the amount I put into my veins until I pushed even that to the limit. I can tell you personally and with all sincerity that I know it was God and God alone that brought me back from the brink of overdosing on cocaine many different times. There are three separate and distinct occasions where I can tell you in all sincerity that I was brought back from a serious overdose on “coke” simply because I called out the name of Jesus at the very last second of consciousness. I’ll describe one of those times for you. It was on what we call “Welfare Wednesday” which is the last Wednesday of each month. That is the day welfare checks are distributed. I had just cashed my welfare check and bought two “quarters” (a quarter is a quarter of a gram), of cocaine from one of the “Bikers” at a local biker bar. Back in those days and no doubt still today, cocaine was very, very potent and especially the “coke” you got from the Bikers. I always made sure I bought my drugs off the same people once I found they were a reliable source.

A bunch of my Yukon friends were sitting and drinking in one of the bars and I asked a friend of mine John, “Can I use your room to do a “fix”? (shoot up drugs with a syringe). “Sure,” he said digging in his pocket for his key. John had a great sense of humor and said, “Don’t make a mess I just hired a maid and it’s all spotless in there.”

“Yeah right!” I smiled at him.

I got his key bought a six-pack of beer and went up to his room by myself. The room was the room of a typical skid row alcoholic. It was a mess. Empty wine bottles littered the room and the overflowing ash tray was an over turned metal lid from a tobacco can that had cigarette butts that had been rolled and re-rolled time and time again until the tobacco resembled black ashes. I brushed away some of the ashes on the table as a couple of cockroaches scurried for cover and cleared a spot big enough to set my quarter gram down. I took out my syringe and was just going to do half of one of the quarters but then I thought, “Ah, I’ll do the whole thing,” I had no idea how potent the drug was. I filled the syringe with the cocaine, pushed it into my vein and injected all of it. About two seconds after I injected the drug it started to hit me. As soon as I took the needle out of my arm at that very second I KNEW I had taken TOO MUCH!

From the author:

I used to think my middle name should've been "Lonely." I wandered the streets of the big city all hours of the night trying to get that needle in my arm to kill some of that loneliness. I carried the burden and the shame of being born into a violent alcoholic home and being a product of the residential school and the abuse I suffered there. Nobody knew how I felt and nobody knew what secrets I carried of all that happened to me in my childhood. That is until now. This book holds nothing back. My biggest fear was that someone would find out about my past. I could take any jail sentence, do any crime no matter what the risk and if you gave me a drug, any drug, I would not be afraid to take it just so long as it got me out my reality for awhile or forever. I suffered depression, oppression, obsession and life's hard lessons. Finally. Finally. After all my searching and asking and praying and reading psychology books, self-help books, books on philosophy, eastern religions, and every thing in between, I finally found the rock-solid, sure-proof, long-lasting WAY OUT! And if a hard-core, hell-bound and hell-bent chronic skid row alcoholic, drug addict nobody like me can find a way out of a totally messed up life...you or your loved ones can too. If you follow the steps that I followed it is a GUARANTEE...you too will become a FREE MAN WALKING!

I am Northern Tutchone, a member of the White River First Nation in the Yukon Territory, Canada. Today I am completely delivered from the horrible loneliness, violence and pain of being a former convict, skid-row alcoholic and a cocaine/heroin addict. I am eighteen years clean and sober as of Feb 1, 2012.

After God cleaned up my life, I went back to school and eventually earned a University degree in Social Work. I ran my own counseling business for six years and on December 10, 2009 I became an Officer of the Yukon Legislative Assembly as Yukon's first ever Child and Youth Advocate. I was Ordained a Minister with the UNITED PENTECOSTAL CHURCH INTERNATIONAL on June 27, 2009. Looking back on my dangerous, traumatic, exciting, sad, happy life I have only one regret. I regret that I did not give my life to Jesus sooner...because the life He gives back is the absolute BEST LIFE there could possibly be! Follow me through these pages and through my life, and you will find that freedom too, that is...if you want it.


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