Author Archives: Anne Michaud

About Anne Michaud

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Author of Dark Tendency

Chatting with… AJ Brown

Southern BonesAnother great horror author has launched a collection of short stories recently, and I happen to virtually know this guy: AJ Brown worked on the copyedits of Tattered Souls volume 2, in which Misery of Me was published 🙂 So I decided to ask a question on each of the different stories you can find in SOUTHERN BONES. Enjoy ♥

The first story made me go back years, when I used to visit Chincoteague Island with my parents to see the wild horses…what inspired you to write this story?

AJB: Many people have said they thought Wild Horses iss based off the song of the same name by U2.  Let me go ahead and clarify, it isn’t.  Though I love U2, this story is based on a field along Highway 378 here in South Carolina.   There were wooden fence posts that held up the old style metal fence that we often see in rural areas all over the world.  There were trees opposite the road and in that vast field that stretched left to right (and vice versa if you drove the opposite direction).

One evening on the way home from work, I saw a horse running loose in the field.  It caught my attention to the point of me pulling onto the highway shoulder and just sitting there watching this beautiful creature gallop and trot about without a care in the world. Later that night I sat with pen and paper and out flowed the story of Prince, the king of the Wild Horses.

Unfortunately, that field is no longer there, and niether is the horse (it has since been turned into a well-to-do neighborhood–oh the sins of progress).

If you had a star to wish upon, what would it change in your life?

AJB: I would wish to be smarter.  No, seriously.  Nothing has ever come easy for me.  In school—and even now when I take classes for work—I would spend hours studying and would end up with a low C.  I have to really concentrate when trying to learn or I won’t retain it.  It’s the one area where I, admittedly, am jealous of my older brother.  He can hear or read something once and never forget it.  He can look at something for a minute or two and know how to fix it. He is probably the smartest person I’ve ever met.  I would love to have just a tenth of his intelligence.

I’m an atheist, so I never understand the devotion people have to religion – but if you had written your own bible, what would be its first rule?

AJB: That’s a good question.  I can honestly say, I would probably go with something along the lines of the Golden Rule. Love one another, to love your neighbors as you would yourself.  Yeah, I know it sounds like a cop out answer, but that would probably be my first rule.

Ugh, I used to have a neighbour that was just as annoying, but in a more creepy way – that man scared everyone in the neighbourhood…who inspired you to write about the woman in the red stucco house?

AJB: The Red Stucco House wasn’t inspired by a person.  I had been walking down the hall at work one day and the first line–or at least the first four words–popped into my head.  “She loved that house…”  It’s not a profound thought, or really anything that would make most people think twice.  But, you know yourself, as a writer, anything is fodder for a story.  I chewed on the thought for a while, asking why she loved that house so much.  In my head I could see a game show host like Bob Barker walking around with the Barker Girls pointing out all the different reasons she loved the house.  I took Barker out of the equation and focused on the materialistic aspects and the story just kind of wrote itself.

There’s something utterly scary about extreme weather, as events throughout recent years have proven – have you ever survived a tornado, flood, etc?

AJB: The closest I’ve come to a major storm or weather event was Hurricane Hugo back when I was in my very early twenties.  It tore up Charleston and much of the coast and even did significant damage in the little town I lived in at the time, but nothing like the damage seen from Hurricane Sandy or Andrew or Katrina.  In South Carolina, most of the really bad storms seem to skirt by us.  Every once in a while, though…

It’s always so comforting to have strangers to be the bad guys, but I’ve noticed you take a lot of family as center stage of your horror…care to explain why horror is always more scary when it hits close to home?

AJB: It’s easy to be afraid of strangers.  You see someone walking down the street that may be a little shady in appearance and you cross the street hoping he doesn’t cross as well.  You’re mindful of the neighborhood you just drove into because the houses may be a little dilapidated and there are people sitting in rickety chairs out on the lawn, smoking and just kind of looking rough, wearing old clothes with holes in them and they may or may not be dirty.  It’s easy to see someone with a scowl on their face and have that nervous edge surface along your skin.  It’s just easier to be afraid of folks you don’t know.

People tend to trust family and friends, they tend to let their guard down and even overlook some quirks that they would find disturbing–or at the very least uncomfortable–in other people.  Most people can’t imagine a loved one hurting them or someone they know.  They can’t imagine a spouse would try to kill them, or that their kids could become horrible monsters.  Do you think Ted Bundy’s parents thought he would end up being a serial killer?

There’s an old saying, hold your friends close, hold your enemies closer.  Even that little proverb suggests that the people that could harm you the most are not the people you love, but enemies or strangers for that matter.

Let me pose the question back to you and the readers out there:  Which would be more disconcerting to you, a stranger who kills a child or a mother who kills her child?  They are both horrible in their own right, but the mother who kills her own child would be far worse, in my opinion, than a stranger killing a child.  The mother with her unconditional love or the stranger with no feelings at all toward the child?  To me, the most horrific events happen within the family–and often those things are covered up by other family members, which makes it that much worse.

AJBrownA.J. Brown is a kook. It’s true.  Ask him.

A.J. Brown is also a storyteller who dabbles in some of the darker words in writing.  He is a southern gentleman who enjoys strawberry Kool-aid, Legos and The Walking Dead.  Oh wait, did we say southern gentleman?  Who are we kidding?  He may be southern, but a gentleman?  Nah. He’s a country boy from a redneck family.  The southern accent is real. His new collection, Southern Bones, can be found online and in print format.  Check it out. You won’t be sorry.

The links! The links!
Southern Bones on Amazon or in print
AJ’s blog
AJ’s  facebook

Mistral

I’m no fan of French music, but Mistral Gagnant by Renaud always made me so sad…which inspired me for this flash fiction. Enjoy, peeps ♥

Sitting with you on that bench reminds me of a better time, how your little hand used to feel in mine, and your laugh sounded like the sea, peaks and rolls. But then the sky fell down on our heads, on your childish hopes, and everything changed. Even you did, you grew up and I grew old, after we lost everything and everyone.

“I won’t do it,” you say, looking straight ahead just like your mother did before an argument. Before they took her away from us, leaving a kid and her old man, barely able to sustain us both.

“You have to.” I want to scream and shout, but end up breathing out in a whisper. “You have to prove you can, or they’ll end you.” After six years of hell, hiding and scrapping life off dark corners, I thought you’d knew what to do, what would happen if you didn’t.

Dawn stretches before us, hungry birds over head at war, picking at the fresh corpses. Soon, they’ll fly down at me; not fast enough, the bullet will go through my head.

“It’s time, darling.” I stare at your eyes, sad and angry and hungry. “Then you run until you can’t no more.” Something I can’t do anymore, something I used to be best at. But then one of their weapons bit my leg and ate my flesh. It smells, it creeps up, it kills me little by little – like leaving you behind. Or are you leaving me? I can never be sure.

“But we’re the good guys, Dad…” Don’t you dare, not after all this time. Please clear your throat, please wipe your nose and stand proud – I choose when I leave, and I say it’s now. “Why do I have to…”

“Kill me, so they won’t follow.” I’ve told you so many times, weren’t you listening? What can’t you understand? “Kill me, so you will be free.” And live, a vow I can’t keep, anymore. “Do it.”

You raise the gun to my head, place it between my eyes, and cry. But don’t, think of no one depending on you, how your old bastard of a father promised you a good life but gave you trouble, in the end. The end, of a worthless existence: the end of yours, with mine.

I close my eyes, seeing the wind through your hair, the sun blinking your tears of laughter. I hear it, your voice whispering my name, your cold fingers holding tight to my hand, and the promise that soon, we will be together again.


Chatting with…Colin F Barnes, take two

My good friend Colin F Barnes (writer and Anachron Press editor extraordinaire) has a new book coming out, so I invited him to talk about it – and you lucky peeps have 2 chances to win the ebook by tweeting about the giveaway (with a @ColinFBarnes mention, so he can track it).  The winners will be picked next week, good luck ♥

Tell us about this new book of yours, Mr. Barnes.

CFB: Artificial Evil (Book 1 of The Techxorcist) is a story of origin and what makes us human. It’s set in post-cataclysmic 2153 where the last remaining population exist within a dome city called City Earth.

To manage resources, the owners of the city—the shadowy benefactors ‘The Family’—have implemented a death lottery to control the population and limited resources. The book is from the point of view of family man Gerry Cardle. He’s the lead algorithm designer for the death lottery, but somehow, inexplicably, his numbers have come up despite him being on the exemption list. A malicious Artificial Intelligence has broken into City Earth’s network and ‘possessed’ Gerry. He has just seven days to live, to find out the truth, and save the city.

He does this with the help of two criminals who live ‘off-the-grid’ within the dark corners of the city. A teenage girl (Petal), and an ageing priest (Gabriel) help Gerry in his search and reveal a much wider, more dangerous plot and reveal a horrifying truth.

Sounds awesome, dear friend – but tell me, I’ve noticed many horror writers (which is a genre I know you love to write) also dab into Sci-Fi, dystopian worlds, I wonder if it’s because genre authors like to write genre in itself or is it because horror and Sci-Fi are linked, somehow?

CFB: Thank you, Anne. I think it depends on the writer. I personally like to blur genre lines because I like the added flavours that horror, and SF bring. Together they work well because of the fear of the unknown. And with regards to dystopian societies, they bring their own horror. So for me, they are easy bed-fellows. I do think, however, that horror although can be considered a genre in of itself, it’s also a flavour that can be given to many of other genres such as SF, Fantasy, Crime etc…

So what would be the inspiration for this new book – I want names, book titles, etc.

CFB: Initially I wrote it as a short story. It was really just an experiment. I dreamt up the dome city and the character of Gerry and wanted to see it where it went. In terms of what was behind the ideas I would say it’s probably the influence of Blade Runner and Neuromancer, as well as playing Shadowrun as a kid amongst myriad other inputs. This is the closest to my ‘truth’ in terms of writing as I can currently get to in terms of outlook, themes and subject matter.

What’s next for the writer and editor? Any cool projects coming out??

CFB: So many things, my head spins just thinking about it. From a writer’s perspective I have a gothic novella coming out later in December by Fox Spirit Books called ‘Heart for the Ravens’, and I’m releasing a horror novella around march time titled ‘of Darkewood & Ivory’. Beyond that I’m also working on the two follow-ups to Artificial Evil (Assembly Code and Alpha Omega) and hope to have those ready for mid 2013.

As an editor, things are super busy. I’ve got an anthology due out in February (Urban Occult), and 6 novellas in my new Pulp Line range of stories. You can find more details on these at
www.anachronpress.com.

Follow Colin on his blog tour!!

Ebook:

Anachron Press

Amazon: US | UK |

Epub: Kobo | Lulu

Print:

Anachron Press

Amazon: US | UK |CreateSpace

***

Colin F. Barnes is a writer of dark and daring fiction. He takes his influence from everyday life, and the weird happenings that go on in the shadowy locales of Essex in the UK.

Growing up, Colin was always obsessed with story and often wrote short stories based on various dubious 80s and 90s TV shows. Despite taking a detour in school into the arts and graphic design, he always maintained his love of fiction and general geekery. Now, as a slightly weathered adult, Colin draws on his experiences to blend genres and create edgy, but entertaining stories.

He is currently working on a Cyberpunk/Techno thriller serial ‘The Techxorcist.’ which combines elements of Sci-Fi, Thriller, and Horror.

Like many writers, he has an insatiable appetite for reading, with his favourite authors being: Stephen King, William Gibson, Ray Bradbury, James Herbert, Albert Camus,  H.P Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith,  and a vast array of unknown authors who he has had the privilege of beta reading for.

Website: www.colinfbarnes.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/ColinFBarnes


Chatting with… Rosanne Rivers

This week is a double treat: interview + cover reveal of Rosanne Rivers, a debut YA author!

After the Fear

In Sola’s city, everyone obeys the rules. Stay away from the trigger cameras and regularly update your Debtbook, and you just might survive. But having to watch the way criminals are dealt with—murdered by Demonstrators in the Stadium—is a law Sola tries to avoid. When a charming Demonstrator kisses her at a party, however, she’s thrust into the Stadium and forced into the very role she despises.

Armed with only natural resourcefulness and a caring nature, Sola narrowly survives her first bout. Her small success means she’s whisked off to a training camp, where she discovers a world beyond the trigger cameras and monitoring—a world where falling in love with a killer doesn’t seem so terrible.

Yet life as a Demonstrator has no peace. Sola must train her way through twenty-five more Demonstrations before she can return home to her father. At the end of each battle, only one survivor remains.

Sola could face anyone in the Stadium . . . even a loved one.

Ladies and gents, here’s Rosanne Rivers.

RR: Hi!

What’s your book about and where did you get the idea for it?

RR: Well the book is set in England in the year 2099, where Roman-style gladiatorial battles are the government’s way of raising money to pay off the nation’s enormous monetary Debt. It follows Sola as she trains to become one of the top fighters (Demonstrators) in England, falls in love, discovers unlikely secrets and deals with the oppressive society she lives in.

As mundane as it sounds, I actually got the idea from the huge deficit England has at the moment! Politicians are always going on about it over here. I liked the idea that when you’re born, you’re already born with a personal debt that you can be called upon at any time to pay off. When it came to how someone was going to pay this off, I looked to football. There’s so much money in it, it’s crazy. No matter how much debt we’re in, we’ll always find a way of spending money on the things we like. So I made football matches into Roman-style one-on-one battles, and in my book that’s the hobby which everyone loves and is willing to spend money on.

For the rest of the society, (trigger cameras/ a mandatory social networking site called Debtbook etc) I just looked at the world we already live in. When I started writing, the government in England were talking about introducing cameras which activate when they hear certain ‘trigger’ words. And then there’s Facebook, which fits so perfectly into a dystopian world that it’s scary! Every element in my book is from something which I could see happening in the future, but sometimes it’s an augmented version.

Love this – you actually pluck inspiration from actual events…oh so scary, we’re this close to a dystopian world coming to life, me thinks.

My favorite movies/books have always been dystopian: 1984, Blade Runner, Brazil, Hunger Games trilogy…which stories would you consider your favorite and how did they play in your own writing for this book?

RR: Yeah it is a bit scary . . . yet so much fun to write about!

Oh I haven’t read Blade Runner or Brazil, I’ll have to check them out! My favourite dystopian books have to be The Hunger Games, The Handmaid’s Tale and Delirium, (with Inside Out and Uglies coming in very close, too!). I’m a bit slow to the game but I’ve just start reading Divergent, which is awesome. I think the dystopian trend certainly gave me the confidence to write and finish this book. Before The Hunger Games, I would have worried that no one wanted to read about a killer teenager! Once I had the idea, a lot of my inspiration came from history books and tales of gladiators. The camp in ATF is very much based on a Roman ludus, with lots of the training techniques being adapted versions of those used by gladiators.

Cool beans, bringing in History into your books…which makes me wonder, what’s your next project? Will you stay in the futuristic genre or jump trains?

RR: I’m so glad you asked. I’m just in the research and plotting stage of my next book . . . It’s a YA fantasy following a young woman who is part of an all-female organised crime gang. So it’s a detour from the futuristic genre, but there will still be lots of fighting. This time though, I’m hoping to get the reader on side with the ‘baddies’, because let’s face it, we all have a dark side!

Rosanne lives in Birmingham, UK and considers it one of her favourite cities, second only to Rome. She delights in writing for children and young adults and hopes to bring readers to an unfamiliar yet alluring setting. Rosanne was inspired to write when she read the Harry Potter books, and at age fourteen, she wrote romance fanfiction on just about every pairing you could dream up from the HP series.

She blogs, she tweets, she has a Facebook page, and so does her book – don’t miss out and subscribe to be notified about After the Fear


Don’t Fear Michelle Muto’s Reaper…

I’ve meet her through an online writing group, this girl who writes about death and magic. So I thought you lot would *love* to learn a little bit more about the book that got Michelle on Amazon’s number two spot last Halloween: Don’t Fear the Reaper.

Haunted by memories of her murdered twin, Keely Morrison is convinced suicide is her only ticket to eternal peace. But in death, she discovers the afterlife is nothing like she expected. Instead of peaceful oblivion or a joyful reunion with her sister, Keely is trapped in a netherworld on Earth with only a bounty-hunting reaper and a sarcastic demon to show her the ropes.

When the demon offers Keely her ultimate temptation–revenge on her sister’s killer–she must determine who she can trust. Because, as Keely soon learns, the reaper and demon have been keeping secrets and she fears the worst is true–that her every decision changes how, and with whom, she spends eternity.

And now, a belated Halloween treat – the book’s first chapter…

First Chapter:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for they are with me.

I repeated my version of the psalm as I watched the ribbon of blood drift from my wrist. I’d hoped it would be a distraction—something to stop me from wondering what my sister’s dying thoughts had been. Exhaling slowly, I let the emptiness consume me.

Jordan had kept my secrets and I had kept hers. In the end, it came down to just one secret between us that took her life. Now, it would take mine. I should have said something, but nothing I said or did now could bring her back or make anyone understand what she meant to me.

Are you here, Jordan? Are you with me? Tell me about heaven…

I told myself Jordan was gone, never coming back, but her memories continued to haunt me. I had no idea if there even was an afterlife. If God existed, I was convinced he had given up on me. Not once did I sense he’d heard a single one of my prayers. I wasn’t asking for the world—I only wanted to know if my sister was safe and at peace. What was so hard about that?

She should still be here. It wasn’t fair.

I’d been the difficult one—much more than Jordan. For a while, I’d even gotten into drugs. Mom and Dad had worried I’d get Jordan into drugs, too. But I wouldn’t. Not ever. Besides, that part of my life had been over long before Jordan’s death. A small gargoyle tattoo on my left shoulder was all that remained of my previous lifestyle.

Mom and Dad started treating me differently after Jordan’s funeral two months ago. She and I were twins, so I understood how hard it was for them to look at me and not see her. Sometimes, they wouldn’t look at me at all. Mom went to the psychiatrist, but no one asked if I needed to talk to someone about what happened. No one asked if I needed sleeping pills or antidepressants. Yeah, sure. Don’t give the former addict pills of any sort.

Not one person saw the all-consuming suffering that gnawed at my soul. Why couldn’t anyone see? Jordan had been more than my sister—she’d been my Samson, my strength. I would have done anything for her, and yet, I’d failed her. I wasn’t the one who’d killed her, but I might as well have been. How could I ever live with that? My heart had a stillness to it since her death.

I shall fear no evil.

I couldn’t very well recite the first part of Psalm 23 because it said I shall not want, and I did want. I wanted to go back in time. I wanted my sister back. Clearly, goodness and mercy were never going to be part of my life ever again. In my mind, I saw myself walking through the iron gates of hell with demons cackling gleefully all around.

I didn’t want to die. Not really. I was just tired and didn’t know of another way to stop the pain. Doctors removed a bad appendix. Dentists pulled rotten teeth. What was I supposed to do when my very essence hurt, when the cancer I’d come to call depression made every decent memory agonizingly unbearable?

Before I’d gotten down to cutting my wrist (I managed to only cut one), I’d taken a few swigs of Dad’s tequila—the good kind he kept in the basement freezer. I’d used another swig or two to chase down the remainder of Mom’s sleeping pills in the event I failed to hit an artery or vein. Then I’d set the bottle on the ledge of the tub in case I needed further liquid encouragement. Instead of using a knife or a razor, I attached a cutting blade to my Dad’s Dremel. The Dremel was faster, I reasoned. More efficient.

It would have been easier to OD, I suppose. But I felt closer to my sister this way, to suffer as she’d suffered.

I recited the line from Psalms 23 again. It had become my personal mantra.

The words resonated in my parents’ oversized bathroom. I’d chosen theirs because the Jacuzzi tub was larger than the tub in the hall bathroom. Jordan and I used to take bubble baths together in this same tub when we were little.

Innocence felt like a lifetime ago. I searched the bathroom for bubble bath but came up short. Soap might have made the laceration hurt more so it was probably just as well. Besides, the crimson streaming from my wrist like watercolor on silk was oddly mesmerizing.

The loneliness inside proved unrelenting, and the line from the psalms made me feel better. I prayed for the agony inside me to stop. I argued with God. Pleaded. But after all was said and done, I just wanted the darkness to call me home.

I tried not to think of who would find my body or who’d read the note I’d left. I blamed myself not only for failing Jordan, but for failing my parents, too.

My lifeline to this existence continued to bleed out into the warm water. Killing myself had been harder than I’d imagined. I hadn’t anticipated the searing fire racing through my veins. I reached for the tequila with my good arm but couldn’t quite manage. Tears welled in my eyes.

Part of me foolishly felt Jordan was here. The other part feared she wasn’t.

Give me a sign, Sis. Just one.

I imagined seeing my parents at my funeral—their gaunt faces, red-eyed and sleepless. How could I do this to them? Wasn’t the devastation of losing one child enough?

No. Stop. A voice in my head screamed. Don’t do this. Don’t. Please…

I shifted my body, attempted to get my uncooperative legs under me. I could see the phone on my parents’ nightstand. I could make it that far. Had to. The voice was right. I didn’t want to do this. I felt disorientated, dizzy. Darkness crept along the edges of my vision. Focusing became difficult. A sweeping shadow of black caught my attention. Someone stood in the bathroom—not my sister. A man. Had I managed to call 911? I couldn’t remember getting out of the tub. And why’d I get back in? Did I use a towel?

Mom is going to be pissed when she sees the blood I’ve tracked all over the bedroom carpet.

“I’m sorry,” I told the man in black.

“It’s okay, Keely. Don’t be afraid.” Not my father’s voice. It was softer, with a hint of sorrow. Distant. Fleeting. Later, I’d feel embarrassed about this, but for now I was safe from the nothing I’d almost become. My teeth clattered from the chill. My eyelids fluttered in time with my breaths. The tub water had turned the color of port wine. The ribbons, the pretty, red watercolor ribbons were gone.

Dull gray clouded my sight.

A voice whispered to me, and my consciousness floated to the surface again.

“—okay, Keely.”

Cold. So cold.

“I’m right here.”

There was no fear in me as the man bent forward, his face inches from mine. He was my father’s age, and yet strangely older. His eyes were so…blue, almost iridescent. The irises were rimmed in a fine line of black, and the creases etched at the corners reminded me of sunbeams as he gave me a weak smile. The oddly. Dressed. Paramedic. A warm hand reached into the water and cradled mine. My fingers clutched his. I sighed, feeling myself floating, drifting. Light—high and intense exploded before me. No! Too much. Too much! I shuddered and labored to catch my breath, but it wouldn’t come.

Finally, the comfort of darkness rose to greet me.

Don’t forget to buy the book, visit Michelle’s blog, and follow her on Twitter and Facebook🙂

Amazon US

Amazon UK

B&N

iTunes


And the Skellies go to….

I’m very happy to announce my Marriage Cures Love couple of Skellies will be heading to Lauren McKay’s home on Halloween’s day ♥ Congrats, Lauren:)

For the sourpusses, I’ll be giving away a series of Monsters Skellies for my upcoming book launch, GIRLS & MONSTERS, so keep your eyes opened – and beware, they’re behind you….

And now for zombie fans, my very first anthology published short story BLOOD on the BEACH is now available to read for free on Tales of the Zombie War.

Halloween is my favorite time of year, it involves spooks, candy and tragic skies…but please enjoy safely, no one likes a *real* corpse ♥

 


Halloween Delight: The Coffin Hop

For a second year, I am participating to the amazingness that is the #Coffinhop Halloween blog hop, where horror authors and fans can win scary books and ghoulish prizes! Hop on and hold on to your cape and fangs:)

Wanna win my Marriage Cures Love couple of Skellies? It’s so easy: follow this link. The contest starts on Wednesday 24th and ends on the 31st at midnight, the winner will be picked on November 1st and notified by email.

For extra entries, you may need to visit Hypnophobia, The Birdman and Heather. And in case you haven’t read these creepy anthologies, maybe you should: Tattered Souls volume 2 and City of Hell Chronicles : volume 1.

For cool swag, #Coffinhop also has a store!


The Next Big Thing Blog Tag

My new Twitter friend Linda Bloodworth tagged me with this blog hop and I’m happy to oblige:) So here we go….

What is the working title of your book? KILLER GIRL
Where did the idea come from for the book? AN AMAZING DREAM I HAD A MONTH AGO.
What genre does your book fall under? YA/NA THRILLER
Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition? CHRISTINA RICCI, JENNIFER LAWRENCE, MARK STRONG, ALAN RICKMAN, JOHN CUSAK…
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? A GIRL MUST BECOME A KILLER TO AVENGE HER PARENTS’ DEATH.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? WHO KNOWS? IF I WISH UPON A STAR…
How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? ERRR…NOT DONE, YET.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? GILLIAN FLYNN’S TRILOGY, TANA FRENCH’S IN THE WOODS, KENDARE BLAKE’S ANNA DRESSED IN BLOOD.
Who or What inspired you to write this book? THE CHARACTERS KEEP POPPING IN MY HEAD.
What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? IT’S DARK, TWISTED, SCARY, FUNNY, HEART-WARMING, FAST-PACED AND SHOCKING.

In the spirit of this blog hop, it is now my turn to nominate 5 bloggers who will answer these questions:

Krista Walsh

DD Syrdal

Marianne Su

Darke Conteur

Ren Warom

Don’t forget to hop to their blogs and meet their WIP:)