Today's featured author is Cindy Speer fellow writer of fantasy with hints of other genres.
What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I do write in more than one...I primarily write in fantasy, but I like
to mix in mystery, especially murder, and romance.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I have always had a fascination for magical things, for folk stories
and myths, so fantasy seemed like a natural choice. I can't write
without it, really, I'll be writing a perfectly mundane scene and
suddenly something supernatural happens. So I guess you can say it
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
I don't think I could write westerns! I kind of want to try some
Science Fiction but I am not sure if I have the right education or
mind for it.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
I read anything that happens to hit an interest...mostly mystery and
fantasy, but also historical novels (I'm reading Philippa Gregory
right now) or anything else that takes my fancy.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I've been writing most of my life...I've always told stories, and I
started writing them down in my early teens. I've always had a very
over active imagination.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
That is a hard question to answer...I love all my characters, even the
ones that don't deserve it. I do want to revisit Zorovin from Blue
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
You always need a villain, at least in mysteries. They were created
the way any character is created...I know everything about them. You
need to...round characters are important because, while sometimes you
want to make sure that the villains are people that your readers enjoy
hating, sometimes you also need to make them more subtle, so it's hard
to guess that they are the killer. So, I guess, I use a combination
of subtlety and just treating them like any other character.
8. What are you working on now?
A novel called The Queen of the Grey. It's hard to describe...the
main character is the queen of this forest, and of all the creatures
that haunt the night, wolves, owls, and so on. A war is coming, and
they will join forces with a rag tag army to fight them back, but that
is just the beginning of the story.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
The idea for Unabalnced came to me because I have always loved
vampires and werewolves, but feared their story had been told, so I
tried to take another look at the lore, to create something different.
Something that would still please readers and allow me to work with
those types of characters.
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the
opening of the book around 400 words.
IT’LL BE SNOWING SOON, ANDROMEDA THOUGHT AS SHE PULLED HER
black cloak tighter. It was an impractical thing, fastening only at the
throat, the wind parting it at will, but she liked it. Her usual
winter coat lacked the elegance needed at these sorts of parties.
The noise from that too-loud, too-glittery party faded as she walked
up the path, her feet crunching on pale gravel. She sighed with relief at
her temporary escape. The people here were not the kind she felt comfortable
with. The food was elegant, the music was good, and everyone
was nice enough, but she couldn’t seem to relax. She kept fighting the
feeling that, any minute, she was going to do something awful and embarrassing,
exposing her to the world as the classless slob she was.
Then there was Alaister.
She looked up at the night sky and watched the clouds pass across
the waning moon. She was mad at herself for coming, for trying to
wedge herself into a place where she fit about as well as an egg in a sack
of marbles. I guess I’m just lonely, she admitted with a bit of asperity, her
eyes panning the treetops, noticing how the branches met and interlaced.
She continued along the path, the woods surrounding her. For a few
minutes, until the cold chased her back to the party, she was free. She
paused and picked up one of the pale water-smoothed pebbles. How
expensive, she wondered, would a path of all white river stones be?
A twig snapped, and she jumped. For a second, her fancy made the
sound into a gunshot. She clutched the stone to her chest, peering into
the woods on either side of the path. Thick brambles and bushes obscured
her view. She tilted her head, listening.
Nothing, she decided, considering going back. But she wasn’t ready
to face the crowd yet, and she remembered there was an old greenhouse
farther down the path. Being out alone in the dark didn’t bother her—
she’d gotten over that fear long ago.
There was a bend in the path, and when she turned along it, the
moon removed its mask. The trees were suddenly outlined in light, their
shadows so crisp they seemed tangible. The path glowed, trailing like a
satin ribbon to the greenhouse that glittered, dark and jewel-like, in the
middle of a tiny clearing.