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Interview: Debut author R. G. Hendrickson

This week we welcome debut author R. G. Hendrickson to the blog! Welcome, Richard! Thanks so much for visiting!

Thank you, Ally, for giving a newbie author like me an interview on your blog. It’s a thrill, and I really appreciate it.

Author headshot R. G. Hendrickson

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it?

Funny you should ask. I was just talking about this with an old friend.

When I told him about the book, he wrinkled his nose and said, “Eww. Why cavemen?” I get some of the frankest critiques from my friends, which is fine. I’ve known him since high school, a long time before I started writing. If he doesn’t like my book, I guess I’ll probably still like him anyway.

So, why cavemen? Perhaps not everyone’s cup of tea, I understand this, but MM romance must have existed in some fashion during the Stone Age. I thought it might be interesting to explore. Though different, it isn’t so far-fetched, really. I mean, after all, we have shifters, vampires, and Mpreg.

By the way, the main character in this story might be viewed as a reverse-vampire. His longevity comes from the unusual stem cells in his blood, and a doctor discovers that an infusion of these cells cures people and makes them young. This of course has serious implications for the Earth.

Let’s set aside the speculative fiction. I found that the Stone Age made a delightful setting for MM romance. It accommodated some favorite tropes, like fake dating and hurt/comfort. In addition, there’s a developing romance in the present, which might qualify as an age gap trope, though the older character appears much younger than his years.

So, why not a caveman? At the end of the day, it’s just a book and might be fun. If you happen to take a chance on reading it, please let me know what you think. Even if you don’t like it, I’m still your friend, like I’m still friends with my old high school buddy.

What started you writing?

It’s a strange compulsion. I’ve had it since childhood and only recently gave in, apart from dabbling a little over the years. Even when I wasn’t writing, there were always stories rattling around in my head. When I retired a little early and had some time on my hands, I found myself putting things on paper. It felt good getting it off my mind, refreshing.

I did study dramatic literature and script writing as an undergraduate, but I set aside playwriting in the interest of making a living. In the meantime, I came to like reading more than theatre or movies. I preferred reading novels and found that I enjoyed writing them, so far three, two of them published.

When I started the first book, I realized that I needed to learn the craft. There’s a big difference between a story floating around in my head and a novel on paper. So, I joined some writer groups, read excerpts, and got feedback. I also read a lot of novels and some books about writing, or I listened to recorded presentations.

With practice, I think I’m becoming a better storyteller. My goal next time is to write a book that my old high school friend will want to read. That, of course, might never happen, but I’m having fun trying.

Call Me Methuselah

Cover, Call me Methuselah

Since humanity’s first steps in the Stone Age, Methuselah has harbored an ancient secret. Cursed by the shaman to witness the end of days, he searches in vain for a home, place to place, clan to clan, yearning to belong. First in prehistoric Africa and lately disillusioned with love for a hundred years in the New World, he learns all too well to guard his heart and hide his story. That changes when a car crash lands him in the hospital with a fractured skull. Doctors discover strange stem cells in his blood, promising cures and a fountain of youth. Methuselah faces choices of life and death.

Forced on the run again, he comforts himself by reliving a happier time, when he and Arrow, his first love, raft across the paleo-lake Makgadikgadi, which rested in those days on the vast Kalahari. In their age-old journey, the cavemen lovers find a place to call home and learn what it means to belong.

While Arrow’s enlightened sensibilities get the two of them in trouble and challenge Methuselah’s judgment, their adventures in an untamed world bring them together. When Methuselah’s enduring youth reveals itself through the passing seasons, he and Arrow bravely face a dire reality.

From the distant past that lives inside Methuselah, Arrow’s spirit reaches out, providing guidance for our threatened times. He gives Methuselah the strength to do the right thing and the courage to live his true self in the modern world. Arrow’s memory opens Methuselah’s heart and renews for him a hope of redemption in the arms of a caring man today. If only Methuselah permits himself to love once more.

Scroll on down for an excerpt!

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Excerpt from Call Me Methuselah

No blood nor gore in sight, I worried that the crocodile had eaten him already, tossed him in the air, and swallowed him whole. Relieved that I didn’t have to fight that monster, I dived down again near the bottom, where the crocodile might not follow me. Its big tail wagged above my head and passed me by.
As I turned to swim away, I found the drowned man sinking. All in one piece, he must have submerged before the crocodile arrived. His eyes were blank, and his many skinny braids floated and twisted like snakes around his head.
No time to waste, I grabbed his hair and pulled him along with me. His husky body nearly weightless underwater, I held on with one hand. My legs and the free arm enough for swimming, I towed him toward a safer shore, near the ledge from where I’d first spotted him that morning.
When I could hold my breath no longer, I surfaced and looked for the croc. No sign of it, maybe it returned to the beach. They didn’t like it here by this cliff with its deep water and jagged rocks. I slipped through the outcrops, as I’d done since a boy.
Losing my loincloth along the way, I struggled to shore with the stranger in tow. By his armpits, I dragged him out of the waves to dry gravel and avoided his eyes. They were open, unblinking, and vacant.
With both my hands, I felt his neck for signs of life, warm but motionless. His mouth was full of water, which trickled out. He was dead.
Remembering him gives me pause. Lately, I’ve pondered my own mortality. Hence, this memoir, I’m not ready.
More the reason for starting in a happier time, the beginning, long ago on that lake with my first love.
We were so much alike then, young and invincible. Only for me, invincibility was no youthful fantasy.
I’ve never stopped missing him. Not to complain, that wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t me who had to die, and even while grieving, there’s joy in life.
Enough said. On with the story.
The dead man’s eyes bewildered me. I couldn’t bear to look at them or make myself look away. Though we were strangers, we’d faced a monster crocodile together and escaped it. Few friends could say that. As tears blurred my vision, I covered his face with my hands and brushed his eyelids closed.
Then I remembered the words of my father. A boy had drowned. His brother pushed the water out of him, and the boy came back.
Worth a try with this man, I pressed hard on his tight stomach, just below the ribs, and water sprayed from his mouth. Worried I’d hurt him, I checked his face for signs of pain. He showed no expression but peace, a haunting beauty, and over his lips more water flowed.
When I pressed again, he twitched. His eyes opened wide, and when he rolled on his side, lake water spewed out his mouth. Then, to my considerable relief, he coughed and took a deep loud breath. We gazed at each other in the eye and lingered there.
No, he doesn’t die that day, and I get to meet him after all. He’ll be the love of my life. I know this now, a long time later …

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About R.G. Hendrickson

R.G. Hendrickson loves words for the feelings they evoke. Though relatively new to writing, he draws on experience from a long life and strong imagination.

In his MM romance, you’ll find quirky characters and fantasy/science fiction subplots.

If you take a chance on his book, he would love to hear your thoughts about it, whatever they are. He also enjoys receiving critiques from the writers group that he attends weekly online from his home in Las Vegas.

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