interview – Page 4 – A. L. Lester

Guest Interview: SI CLARKE

This week, SI CLARKE pops in for a chat about her new release The Left Hand of Dog!

Morning, Si! Why are you doing this interview?

I have a new book that just came out a few weeks ago: The Left Hand of Dog. It’s the first in a new series called Starship Teapot.

What started you writing?

I’d dabbled in writing at various points in my life. I’d written the odd article. At one point, I was an avid blogger. And through most of my life, I had certain story ideas I always said I’d turn into a book … eventually. I’d even tried writing a book a few times. But it never went anywhere.

Late in 2017, I was made redundant from my job. I felt myself beginning to slide into a depression. I’d get up in the morning, walk the dogs – and then lie down on the sofa. And I wouldn’t really move again until my partner got home at dinnertime.

I did that for a week. On the Monday of the next week, I lay down on the sofa – and then promptly stood back up again. ‘No, I’m not going to do this.’ Whether I was talking to myself or to my dogs or just to no one, I still don’t really know.

But I walked over to my desk and sat down to start planning my first novel. And even though I have a full-time job now, I haven’t looked back since.

Where do you write?

I’ve been working from home on a full-time basis since the start of the pandemic and I’ve got a really cushy setup with my funky ergonomic kneeling chair and two large, curved monitors. It’s sad, but I spend each work day facing one screen – and then at dinnertime, I turn my chair a few degrees to the right and work on my writing.

But I’ve also been known to write in unconventional locations. I finished the first draft of my first novel on my phone, while weaving and dodging through the underground shopping centre in Canary Wharf. I started the first draft of a book I still haven’t written while weaving and dodging through the pedestrians in Deptford Market on a Saturday. Honestly, it’s a miracle I don’t walk into more stationary objects than I already do.

What do you like to read?

I mainly read science fiction. But occasionally venture into fantasy, mysteries, historical fiction, and thrillers. Once I read a thriller novel set in London. The main character went to investigate the second murder in the story. He named where the house was in relation to the train station and what he saw looking out the window of the main bedroom, where the corpse was still lying. And I realised – he was standing in my house, in my bedroom. Maybe I should stay away from thriller novels.

But really what I love are books that dig deep into characters. And I love characters that aren’t stale, male, pale, cis-het, neurotypical.

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

I have two dogs, both rescues. Ozzy will be nine next month. I met him in 2015 when I spent my holiday volunteering at a bear sanctuary in Romania. The sanctuary is an amazing place. They rescue and rehabilitate bears from all across Central and Eastern Europe – mainly from captivity, but sometimes wild bear cubs that have been abandoned and wouldn’t survive on their own.

My experience at LiBEARty was incredible – but I quickly realised they had all the help they needed already. So I spoke to the organiser and asked if we could be of more use at the dog shelter run by the same team.

We arrived at the shelter during a thunderstorm when 499 dogs were howling at the top of their lungs. And one dog stood on top of his house, smiling and begging for my attention. Three weeks later, he was lying on my sofa.

Lemmy came from the same rescue group three years later.

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it? How long did it take to write? What did you enjoy about writing it? What did you hate?

In October 2020, I sat down to write something silly. Something that would make me feel better about life, the universe, and everything.

So many of the early reviews have said something along the lines of ‘this was exactly what I needed right now.’ It was so much fun to write. I loved every second of it and I hope readers do too.

The Left Hand of Dog features an aro-ace agender main character, Lem. Together with her dog, she’s kidnapped by incompetent bounty hunters from outer space. It features a talkative horse, an unswearing robot, an overly anxious giant parrot, and a cloud of sentient glitter gas. All on the run from the bunnyboos.

The Left Hand of Dog

Escaping intergalactic kidnappers has never been quite so ridiculous.

When Lem and her faithful dog, Spock, retreat from the city for a few days of hiking in Algonquin Park, the last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by aliens. No, scratch that. The last thing they expect is to be kidnapped by a bunch of strangely adorable intergalactic bounty hunters aboard a ship called the Teapot.

After Lem falls in with an unlikely group of allies – including a talking horse, a sarcastic robot, an overly anxious giant parrot, and a cloud of sentient glitter gas – the gang must devise a cunning plan to escape their captors and make it back home safely.

But things won’t be as easy as they first seem. Lost in deep space and running out of fuel, this chaotic crew are faced with the daunting task of navigating an alien planet, breaking into a space station, and discovering the real reason they’re all there…

Packed with preposterous scenarios, quirky characters, and oodles of humour, The Left Hand of Dog tackles complex subjects such as gender, the need to belong, and the importance of honest communication. Perfect for fans of Charlie Jane Anders’ Victories Greater than Death – especially ones who enjoy endless references to Red Dwarf, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. This book will show you that the universe is a very strange place indeed.

Buy Left Hand of Dog! If you opt to buy it direct from me, you’ll get 20% off with code LIMFIC2021.

Meet SI CLARKE

SI CLARKE is a Canadian misanthrope who lives in Deptford, sarf ees London. She shares her home with her partner and an assortment of waifs and strays. When not writing convoluted, inefficient stories, she spends her time telling financial services firms to behave more efficiently. When not doing either of those things, she can be found in the pub or shouting at people online – occasionally practising efficiency by doing both at once.  

As someone who’s neurodivergent, an immigrant, and the proud owner of an invisible disability, she strives to present a diverse array of characters in her stories.

Website : Goodreads : Readerly : Twitter

Liz Faraim: An interview!

Thanks for letting me stop by and share a guest post with your readers! I’m Liz Faraim and am pleased to announce the release of the third novel in my Vivian Chastain series, titled Concussion and Contentment.

When speaking with readers, bloggers, and podcasters I get asked a lot of questions. I’d like to share some of those with your readers.

Q: Do your books spring to life from a character first or an idea?

A: The first three books (the Vivian Chastain series) came from Vivian Chastain bumping around inside my head demanding to be let out. My most recent project, titled Pinned, started out with one moment in time. It happened to be that I went down to the pier in my town to watch the water during a particularly bad storm and everything in that moment – the sounds, smells, and sights – all needed to be captured. Pinned sprang into life from there.

Q: How did you deal with rejection letters?

A: It is very frustrating to receive a rejection letter, and the process of submitting and being rejected over and over is very disheartening. But the big picture of it is that I just have to keep trying.

Q: What tools do you feel are must-haves for writers?

A: For me, I have written both by hand and on a computer. I hugely prefer writing on a laptop. I also recommend some good headphones and your favorite non-distracting play list.

Q: If you had a grant to write any book you wanted as a freebie without worrying about sales, what kind of story would you like to tell?

A: I actually did do a writing project last fall with one of my writing groups. The task was to write a horror short story for a Halloween radio show we were putting together. I had never written a true short story before, nor had I written horror. It was really interesting to see how the story flowed out of me and how twisted it was. When I finished editing it I sat back and thought “Where the f*ck did that come from?” I think I would like to explore writing horror some more.

Q: What’s the funniest or creepiest thing you’ve come across while researching for one of your stories?

A: While writing Stitches and Sepsis, I spent a lot of time researching hospital protocols, as well as septicemia and septic shock. The biggest thing that stays with me is when I spent an afternoon looking at online images of septic wounds.

Read on to find out about Concussion and Contentment, read an excerpt and find out more about Liz.

Concussion and Contentment

Warnings: This book contains violence, attempted murder, homophobic slurs, alcohol/drug use, references to suicide, abuse of a child by a parent, abuse of a child by an adult, attempted suicide, racism

Vivian, an adrenaline junkie and U.S. Army veteran, goes about her life as a bartender, avid runner, and polyamorous lesbian. Life in Sacramento, California is going well until she is blindsided by unforeseen financial issues which lead her to consider a new career.

In an attempt to recharge and take a break, she visits her best friend, Jared, only to be sidetrackedby a motorcycle trip with her other best friend, Bear. The adventure does not turn out to be the carefree break Vivian had hoped for. A mess, she returns to Sacramento where her partner, Ang, tries to push her down, rather than help her pick up the pieces. Meanwhile, Vivian takes big steps
with her other partner, Audre, which fills a void in Vivian’s life left behind by her dysfunctional and abusive childhood.

While out on a day trip to her favorite hiking trails, Vivian has an epiphany about what line of work she wants to pursue, and chases after it head first while also beginning to mend fences with her brother, Joey.

As things start to stabilize, one of Vivian’s partners commits an act of grave violence, resulting in life-changing consequences for all concerned. Surrounded by friends, Vivian turns over a new leaf and finally finds the contentment she has sought for a lifetime.

You can purchase Canopy (book one) here, Stitches and Sepsis (book two) here, and Concussion and Contentment (book three) here.

Excerpt from Chapter One of Concussion and Contentment:

Sweat dripped and bass pulsed as hundreds of women writhed and bumped to the music. Tick, the club DJ, was killing it. The vibe was so good that I was high on it. There was a line at my station ten people deep, customers jostling for position while dancing and shuffling forward each time I finished a drink order. One of my regulars stepped up and waved a twenty-dollar bill at me. She was in her forties, sporting a bowler hat and forearm tats.

“Viv, show me them titties and tats!” she shouted over the thumping and chatter. I had already stripped down to my sports bra, with my beater hanging from the back pocket of my Dickies. It was hot for April, and the press of sweating, dancing bodies had made the nightclub a sauna.

“Aw, Tig, you know I can’t do that,” I said with a smirk and turned my back to the crowd. Behind the bar was a wall-to-wall mirror. I gyrated my hips to Bubba Sparxxx’s “Ms. New Booty,” which had become a club favorite. I made eye contact with Tig in the mirror as she jumped to the beat, still waving the twenty-dollar bill at me. Shoving down the shyness that crept up, I slapped on the façade of the confident butch barkeep I wore to work. I pulled my sports bra
up, just a bit.

Amidst the chaos, they leaned to the side to see my reflection in the mirror, their mouths

agape, eyes laser focused on me. I kept the tease up for a minute, dancing to the song, pulling my bra up a bit and lowering it again. Each time I lowered it, there was a chorus of “Awwwww’s” behind me. I finally relented and pulled my sports bra completely off. Their hoots and hollers made me grin, and I continued dancing for myself in the mirror.

Just as the song was ending, a bright light flashed in the mirror, reflecting straight into my eyes. I traced the light back along the mirror and saw it was coming from near the front door.

Buck, our bouncer, stood on the rungs of her barstool by the door, flashing her Maglite at me. When we made eye contact, she tapped the top of her head three times, which was the sign that the cops were coming. I shimmied back into my sweaty sports bra, which was no easy feat, and turned back to my customers.
Tig pulled me into a hug across the bar. She tucked the bill into my waistband, her rough fingers lingering far too long on my skin. “Thanks, Viv. Looking good. Those tits and tats, you are so fucking hot. If I weren’t married, things’d be different.”

I patted her cheek and ended the hug, doing my best to keep my cool and stay in my role.

“Good to see you, Tig. The usual?”

She nodded and I poured her an Irish Car Bomb. She slapped some more cash on the bar, dropped the shot glass of whiskey and Bailey’s into her pint of Guinness, and chugged the whole frothing mess while her crew cheered her on. She slammed the pint glass down, wiped her mouth on her bare arm, belched, and disappeared into the fray.

Jen, the barback, bounced up to me with her usual level of cheer, and began unloading glasses fresh from the washer. “Tig still trying to get into your pants?” Her voice dripped with disgust as she fingered the American Spirit cigarette tucked behind her ear.

“Always.” I uncapped some beer bottles and rang up my next customer. “You know, I’ve been doing this job a few years now, and know that there’s a certain level of shit we have to put up with if we want those tips. And I need those tips. But it’s getting less amusing when people forget we are human and not a piece of meat.”

Buy Links: Amazon : NineStar Press : UBL

About Liz

Pronouns: She/Her

Liz has a full plate between balancing a day job, parenting, writing, and finding some semblance of a social life. In past lives she has been a soldier, a bartender, a shoe salesperson, an assistant museum curator, and even a driving instructor. She focuses her writing on strong, queer, female leads who don’t back down.
Liz transplanted to California from New York over thirty years ago. She now lives in the East Bay Area of California and enjoys exploring nature with her wife and son.

Website : Author Facebook (Personal) : Author Facebook (Author Page) : Author Twitter : Author Goodreads : Author QueeRomance Ink : Author Amazon

Interview: Change of Plans by Addison Albright

Addison Albright is visiting today to talk about her new release, please give her a warm welcome!

Thank you so much, Ally, for having me here on your wonderful blog today! (Hello Addison, thank you so much for visiting!) Hello, Ally’s lovely readers! I’ve got a new release out—my first in over a year—and I appreciate the opportunity to share a little bit about my story.

First of all, I should point out that this story completes a trilogy. I carefully inserted enough background information so that a random reader picking it up would not be completely lost, so the story can stand alone, but it is definitely not written as a standalone.

Since my new novella, Change of Plans, contains a few of my favorite tropes, I’ve written a trio of guest posts for fellow JMS Books writer-friend’s blogs, each highlighting one of those tropes. Today let’s discuss Arranged Marriage.

Hard to say why I love the Arranged Marriage trope in stories when the idea horrifies me in real life. I suppose it’s because, at least in romance stories, it’s pretty much guaranteed to work out. It’s often paired with enemies-to-lovers, which can also be fun, although I’ve yet to dabble in that trope myself.

In the Plans Trilogy, the arranged marriage between naïve young Prince Marcelo of Sheburat and Efren, the crown prince of Zioneven is only enemies-to-lovers in a very superficial way. The two of them were unacquainted before their unexpected and sudden wedding ceremony in book one. Their marriage took place only because The Contingency Plan was activated in a treaty between realms that were former enemies. So they had no personal enmity for each other.

After getting over his initial shock and accepting that his life is about to be turned upside down, Marcelo is reasonable, responsible, and hopeful of a happy future. So the story avoids the oft-seen MC running from his marriage (or even sabotaging or otherwise fighting it), and instead we have our MC working through his doubts and fears in what is ultimately a meet-cute novelette that spawned a trilogy.

Our heroes run into danger on their way to Efren’s homeland in the novella, The Best-Laid Plans, then the Arranged Marriage trope comes into play again in my new novella, Change of Plans, when the princes are dosed with a mind-wiping toxin and Marcelo must once again come to terms with the fact he’s already established in an arranged marriage that he’s forgotten, while at the same time solving the mystery of what’s behind this fresh attack as well as the drama in the earlier stories.

What are some of your favorite Arranged Marriage stories? Why do you enjoy them?

Look for my discussion on the Hurt/Comfort trope on Nell Iris’s blog back on July 17, and look for my upcoming discussion on the Memory Loss trope on Ofelia Grand’s blog on August 13.

Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity and lived happily ever after... until one romantic evening they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin. Change of Plans by Addison Albright.

Excerpt

(From Chapter 8)

Marcelo, present day

Why, oh why, with all that was going on, was Marcelo finding it so difficult to focus on anything other than Efren’s fingers as he manipulated his utensils? And Efren’s mouth as he opened it to take bites then slowly chew?

Deliberately slowly chew his food, if Marcelo wasn’t mistaken.

Had Marcelo been obvious in his observations? Were Efren’s actions in response to Marcelo’s interest? Or had Efren purposely drawn Marcelo’s attention in the first place?

Or was Marcelo reading too much into Efren’s simple movements?

Marcelo swallowed a bite of his own and told himself the reason he was so distracted was because the royal family had ceased to talk about the drama going on in the castle since it was their policy not to discuss politics at the table, and there was nothing more to do other than baselessly speculate until they gained more intelligence from the people out making inquiries anyway. Attending to the everyday chitchat between Rolland, Merewina, and Tristan as they attempted to maintain a sense of normalcy didn’t take too much concentration.

Sure, that was all it was. Marcelo’s newfound obsession with another man’s hands and eating process had nothing at all to do with memory flashes of Efren’s unshaven skin rasping tantalizingly around Marcelo’s mouth when they’d kissed in the not-dream. Marcelo stilled his hand that had started toward his mouth to rub a phantom tingle and suppressed a self-depreciating snort.

“You are each enamored with the other.” Once again, Erich’s words echoed through Marcelo’s mind, and despite everyone’s assurances that Marcelo had previously conducted himself in some kind of brave, heroic manner, regret churned in his belly that he hadn’t had the courage to open his eyes during that kiss.

Or better, to have tossed caution to the wind and embraced the moment…and Efren.

But to be fair to himself, not being able to ascertain how he’d come to be in a stranger’s arms in an unknown place was what had been so terrifying, rather than the situation itself. Surely thinking one had somehow lost their mind would be spine-chilling to most.

When Merewina’s ill-disguised snicker broke his reverie, Marcelo’s fork slipped from his fingers and landed with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud.

“Really, Efren,” she said, “it’s all I can do not to break all semblance of decorum to toss a sticky bun at you.”

“Do I want to know why?” The deepening lines around Efren’s eyes answered his own question. If Marcelo was reading his husband correctly, he already knew why, yet had no objection to hearing his sister’s explanation.

Marcelo turned his gaze to Merewina.

Her eyes narrowed at her brother. “You are utterly merciless.”

Efren’s eyes widened theatrically. “Me?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are shameless, teasing poor Marcelo like that.”

Marcelo’s face warmed. Yet a thrill coursed through his veins. He’d been right about Efren’s actions, and just as Erich had said, this handsome and powerful man was also drawn to him.

Efren’s lips quirked into a smile that curled Marcelo’s toes. “Dear sister, I assure you”—he winked at Marcelo—“I’m detecting no displeasure from my lovely young husband.”

Marcelo’s cheeks had to be flaming red, they felt so hot, but he held Efren’s gaze, and his own lips twitched into a sheepish grin.

Change of Plans

Fantasy Romance, 32,026-word (108 page) novella

Once upon a time, two handsome young princes fell in love, faced down adversity, and lived happily-ever-after … until one romantic evening, they unwittingly ate a confection laced with a mind-wiping toxin.

Crown Prince Efren of Zioneven blindsided Prince Marcelo of Sheburat when he used The Contingency Plan embedded in a peace treaty to marry the naïve young prince. Now, Marcelo is shocked again when he awakens in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar land, in the arms of a stranger who’s taking such liberties!

Will that ignominious new beginning to their relationship doom their chances at rekindling their love? Or will Efren’s giddiness and the less formal surroundings of Zioneven propel them toward a more teasingly fun rapport?

Marcelo and Efren have forgotten more than their love. On their journey home to Zioneven, their Best-Laid Plans went awry when Marcelo was abducted. Now, neither remembers the unexpected strength of character and ingenuity Marcelo manifested to survive his harrowing ordeal, or Efren’s frantic search for his new husband.

Were Marcelo and Efren specifically targeted for the Forget-Me-Not poisoning, or were they the victims of a random assault? Is this new attack related to Marcelo’s abduction and his sister’s death? Will Marcelo revert to his old mild-mannered, unassuming self, or will he step up to prove he’s the same brave man his new family claims he is amid the fresh danger swirling around them?

Buy the series! : Book 1: The Contingency Plan : Book 2: The Best-Laid Plans : Book 3: Change of Plans

About Addison

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a dash of drama/angst, and a sprinkle of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

Website : Facebook Page : Facebook Profile : Twitter (@AddisonAlbright) : BookBub : Amazon

Guest Post: Ellie Thomas, Artistic Inspiration

Thank you so much, Ally, for having me as your guest today! I’m Ellie Thomas and I write Historical Gay Romance. In this blog, I’ll be chatting about my latest story with JMS Books, released on July 10th. It’s a Hot Flash entitled A Roll of the Dice. It can be uncanny how inspiration comes out of the blue from an unexpected source. The idea for this tale started when watching an excellent three-part tv documentary on the story of Welsh art – of all things!

I love all things eighteenth century and especially writing about that period of history. So, when the programme focused on artists of that particular time, I was completely rapt. I heard for the first time about the landscape artist Richard Wilson (1713-82), who was one of the first of his peers to popularise the landscape genre. I was not only fascinated by his story and his artwork, but it also got my imagination whirring.

In the same way, my main character Joshua has Jones as a surname in honour of the Welsh artist Thomas Jones (1742-1803). Like his namesake, Joshua studies in London under the great Richard Wilson. While writing about Joshua’s experiences, I couldn’t resist including a real-life humorous anecdote about students misbehaving in class which Thomas Jones had recorded in his diaries.

So, as I had sketched in the artistic backdrop for my story, my next task was to devise my characters. When the story started unfolding in my mind, I happened to come across an article on influential black composers and musicians in Europe in the eighteenth century, including the Chevalier de St. Georges (1745-1799) who was dubbed ‘The Black Mozart’. This inspired me to make Joshua both an aspiring artist and a man of colour.

Many artists at that time, including Richard Wilson and Thomas Jones, were drawn to London to study, exhibit and establish their names in artistic circles, so that city seemed the ideal setting. In my story, Joshua leaves his home city of Bristol in the West of England to stay with relatives in London to try to make his mark on the art world.

Towards the end of the eighteenth century, although a major city and growing fast, London was not endless urban sprawl familiar to us now, but could still be crossed on foot. This relatively short distance made me consider in which specific districts to place my characters and how to arrange their first meeting.

Since the Royal Academy of Art in London was based in Old Slaughter’s Coffee House in St. Martin’s Lane in those very early days, that got me thinking about nearby Whitehall and the St. James’ Palace area, lined with exclusive masculine gambling and drinking clubs which were a core of political power and influence at the time.

These qualities embody the character of Frank, Joshua’s love interest, who moves easily amongst influential diplomatic circles. As Joshua funds his daytime art studies by working as a waiter in a gambling club by night, this seemed an ideal meeting point for my couple. In such an intensely male, hot-house situation, I could easily imagine how a spark of mutual attraction could flare into romance.

A Roll of the Dice

Joshua Jones is in London to pursue his dream of becoming an artist. As a young black man from a modest background, he works hard to pay for his painting classes, both as a fencing master’s assistant, then as a waiter in an exclusive gaming club, which his uncle manages.

During the London Season when the club as at its busiest, the last thing Joshua expects is to find romance. But when mesmerising older man, Frank Bartlett, is determined to seduce him, how can he resist? Joshua now finds he has another problem. How can he stop himself falling for the object of his desire?

Buy A Roll of the Dice

Read an Extract from A Roll of the Dice

As they sat by the fireplace, Joshua looked around him with interest, noting the shelves of books and the writing desk piled high with correspondence. Pouring them both a glass of wine, Frank sat back and smiled at Joshua’s observation.

“Does my home meet with your approval?” Frank asked.

Joshua grinned. “I was expecting more of a palace,” he replied, which make Frank laugh, revealing that strong column of his throat that made Joshua catch his breath.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Frank said, smiling.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I was disappointed,” Joshua said with a tinge of flirtation, knowing he was playing with fire. Frank glanced at him with a knowing flickering glimmer that set Joshua’s pulses racing. He was achingly aware that the consideration and snatched conversations of previous evenings would escalate in this intimate setting.

“If you are in the mood,” Frank said silkily, reaching for a pack of cards and moving a nearby side table between them, “I thought we might play a game.”

Joshua almost blurted out that he did not gamble, when he suddenly realised that the stakes were far riskier, or rather risqué, than money. “Pick a card,” Frank invited him. Breathlessly, Joshua did so and putting it down on the table, he saw he had selected the Ten of Hearts. Frank followed suit, placing down the Two of Spades. “I lose,” he said, smiling as he shrugged off his coat.

Joshua’s eyes widened. “I think I like this game,” he said, picking the next card. As it was his turn to select a lower card, he chose to remove his neckcloth as slowly as possible, his adversary glued to his every movement. Then Frank lost his waistcoat, his large body visible under his linen shirt which made Joshua’s mouth go dry. He gulped his wine before picking the next card. They chose an equal number and in accord, both removed their shirts. Joshua could not take his eyes from that massive chest and brawny torso and Frank seemed equally breathless at the sight of Joshua’s lithe and sinewy brown body.

“Perhaps we should take this into the bedroom?” Frank suggested, rising and holding out his hand. Joshua followed willingly and as soon as the bedroom door was shut behind them, they were in each other’s arms.

Buy A Roll of the Dice

Meet Ellie

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.

Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Website : Facebook

Ofelia Grand: Remember Us

Let’s welcome Ofelia Grand today! She’s talking about her re-release, Remember Us. It’s a story about older characters and memory loss and I love it, although Ofelia doesn’t like the first-person POV very much!

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Ally, for letting me drop by today. At the beginning of this month, one of my short stories, Remember Us, was re-released through JMS Books. I love that story.

I write under two names, Holly Day is my alter ego, and by now I’ve written a few stories. Most of them are short, so the backlist isn’t quite as impressive as it looks at a first glance, but by now I’m pretty secure in my writing style. I write third person, past tense, dual point of view unless it’s a really short story, then I might only do one character’s point of view.

What I don’t do is first person. I never buy a book where the blurb is written in first person. If I’ve bought a book, and you should know I never do my research – never read the entire blurb, never read excerpts etc. I might glance at a few reviews (and then I browse for the bad ones, so in my case, a two-star review often is what sells the book LOL). But if I’ve bought a book, and it turns out to be written in first person, I might read it if it doesn’t annoy me in the first pages. If the first thing I read under the chapter heading is a name, we’re done, though. First person, dual POV, not going there.

After having trashed first person, I feel I need to explain a little. They say you should write in first person because it brings the character closer to the reader, makes it easier for them to connect, to feel with the character. And I think I’m malfunctioning because for me it does the exact opposite. When a story is written in third person, I can forgive stupidness. I can chuckle at how foolish the character is. If it’s written in first person, and I read an ‘I threw myself at the snarling beast instead of staying safely hidden’ I just get annoyed because I *knocks on chest* never would. It’s even worse when we get to steamy or emotional parts. If it says I, the I damn better act like I would, and the Is never do LOL

Why do I ramble on about this, you wonder. Well… Remember Us is written in first person.

Yes, I’m as stunned as you are.

And I still like it. I don’t know why. I think it might be because it’s more of an emotional journey than a physical one. There are no snarling beasts, no awkward flirting or sweaty sex scenes where I lose connection with the character due to unfortunate reactions or actions LOL. It’s not even a romance story, it’s an established-couple-at-the-final-stretch-of-their-lives story.

Charles and William have been together for over forty years. All Charlie wants is to spend the rest of his time with William, but William’s memory is failing him, and Charlie is unable to look after him.

"It sucks, getting old, doesn't it?" William looked straight at me. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I never meant to become old."
I placed my hand on top of his, hating the way my voice threatened to break. "We fought it for as long as we could."
"We did, and now look at us"
Remember Us by Ofelia Grand.

Excerpt from Remember Us

The door to the nursing home opened, and I almost ran into one of the nurses.

“Oh, there you are, Charlie.” Relief flooded her eyes as the heron woke in my chest.

“What happened?” If she was coming to get me, something must’ve happened to William.

“Nothing, everything is fine now. I just got a little worried when I couldn’t find you.” She smiled and held the door open for me.

I nodded. Was I late? I glanced at the clock—about the same time as always. Of course, she wouldn’t find me if I hadn’t arrived yet. “Is William all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine, just fine.” She smiled and started to walk back to the front desk. I hurried through the foyer towards the corridor leading to William’s room, wanting to make sure nothing had happened to him.

Sucking in a breath, I knocked on his door. The nurse had given me a scare, and my heart didn’t want to slow down.

“Who are you?” William glared at me when I opened the door, and I slowly let the air out of my lungs.

“I’m Charles.”

His eyes narrowed as he got out of the armchair. “Charles?”

“Yes, Charles.” I searched his eyes for recognition, but it wasn’t there. I should stop hoping, but now and then, there was a flicker of awareness, a few minutes of presence. It was those moments I lived for—the short seconds when we were ‘we’ again.

“Charles, huh?” He studied me. The ticks of the old wall clock that used to hang in our kitchen were far slower than my heartbeats, and the heron trapped in my chest tried to turn.

William’s lips narrowed; fear grew stronger and stronger in his eyes. “Charlie?” The whisper broke my heart.

“Yes.”

“Babe, what happened to you?” He reached out but stopped short of touching me. “There has to be something we can do. Is it an illness? Or…” He rubbed his forehead. “Were you exposed to radiation or something?” Panic took hold of him as the heron crushed my insides.

“No, no radiation or illness. I grew old.”

“But how? You were fine this morning.”

This morning? How I wished I could tell which morning he was in—I’d have given everything I had to be there with him. “What did we do this morning?”

“You don’t remember?” His eyes widened, and I feared I’d only made the situation worse by asking.

“We had coffee.”

“Of course, we had coffee! What else do you remember?”

Yes, of course, we had coffee. What else could we have done? I searched his face for a clue. He wasn’t giving much away. “We ate breakfast.”

“I did! You didn’t. You were too busy trying to get that freaking cat down from the tree. That’s it, isn’t it? It had some disease, and now you’re ill.”

Cat? I winced. There was only one cat I’d ever rescued from a tree, and it had been a long, long time ago—before we were married, before we had Ann, before we lived together. “No, it wasn’t the cat.”

I glanced at the clock. I needed him to start thinking about something else. “Want to go grab some coffee?”

“We just had coffee! I’m taking you to the hospital. Now.” He started towards the door, throwing a confused look around the room as he went. “I need to pee, real quick, and then we’ll go.”

I sank down on his bed as he slipped into the bathroom. My hands were shaking. I didn’t want him to get angry, but there was no way we could go anywhere. We could go to the cafeteria and David—no, Daniel was his name—had said we could sit on the balcony if we wanted. I hoped Daniel was here today. The few times William got angry enough to get violent I always feared for the young women trying to soothe him.

I startled as the door banged against the wall. William hurried out of the bathroom. “There’s an alien in the mirror.”

“What?” Oh, no…

“In the mirror. I always knew there was something strange with this place.”

“I don’t think there is an alien in the mirror.” I could see William getting ready to argue and took a deep breath. “It was probably only the light or something.”

“You’re in on it.” He poked a finger in my chest. “I knew it! You’re not my Charlie. Of course, you aren’t. My Charlie isn’t old, and he would never lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yoda is living in the bathroom mirror, and you’re saying there aren’t aliens here.”

Yoda? I looked at William. He didn’t look anything like Yoda…or maybe a little, but didn’t we all these days? “How about that coffee?”

William curled his hands into fists. “You aren’t listening to me. We need to get out of here. They have us under surveillance. Yoda is living in my bathroom!”

My bathroom. The heron picked at my intestines. He had never named anything in this room his. It was silly how a little word could hurt more than him thinking I was a stranger.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” I hoped he’d forget about the aliens before we got anywhere near the door.

“We need to be sneaky about it. I’ve tried to leave before, but they never let me.”

“Yes, sneaky.” I bit my cheek. “Maybe we should go to the cafeteria and have a cup of coffee.” William started to object, but I cut him off. “Then on the way back, we’ll slip out.” Fingers crossed he wouldn’t remember when we got there.

“Smart. My Charlie would have suggested the same thing.”

Buy Remember Us: JMS Books :: Amazon :: Everywhere else!

Remember Us

Charlie Wilkins had everything he wanted—a husband, a daughter, a house that was his home. He still has his husband, but William has forgotten who he is. He still has his daughter, but the roles have switched, and Ann is now the one taking care of them.

There is only one thing Charlie wants, and that is to spend the rest of his days with William by his side. But William is living in a nursing home, and Charlie is living … somewhere. Ann says she will fix it; she’ll make sure they’ll get to live together again. Charlie hopes she will before William either escapes or figures out Charlie has left him in someone else’s care.

He promised William they’d stay together till death did them part, and he meant it, but what was he to do when he no longer could take care of William?

Buy Remember Us: JMS Books :: Amazon :: Everywhere else!

About Ofelia

Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes romance, contemporary, paranormal, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.

Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.

When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from her husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods…if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.

Blog :: Newsletter :: Instagram :: Facebook Page :: Facebook Profile :: Goodreads :: Bookbub :: Pinterest