Tag: concussion and contentment

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.

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