Wednesday, June 24, 2026

INTERVIEW: Young Adult Fantasy Author C.K. Miller

 

Christy Miller
Pen name: C.K. Miller
Mead, Colorado
USA


 

Good morning, Christy, and welcome to Vision and Verse. Can you tell us a little about what  you’ve written? 

I've completed The Roanfire Saga, a four-book fantasy series that follows Kea, a young soldier who discovers that saving her kingdom from an ancient curse is significantly more complicated than her military training prepared her for. The series took me 20 years to complete—mostly because I took a 10-year break when I had children and real-life chaos temporarily won the battle against fictional chaos—and it explores themes of friendship, forgiveness, and the stubborn refusal to give up even when everything seems hopeless. Writing this saga was like herding cats across four books: challenging, occasionally maddening, but ultimately rewarding as I watched my characters grow from their initial mistakes into people I genuinely admired. The world-building became increasingly complex as the series progressed, with plotlines weaving together like an intricate tapestry that somehow didn't completely unravel in my hands. I'm proud of how all those narrative threads came together in the final book, creating what I hope is a satisfying conclusion for readers who stuck with Kea through thick, thin, and several near-apocalyptic scenarios.



What is your favorite genre to write? 


I'm absolutely in love with writing YA Fantasy, though honestly, I'm drawn to any YA genre that lets me explore the beautiful chaos of being a teenager while adding my own twisted sense of adventure. There's something magical about that age where everything feels simultaneously earth-shattering and full of infinite possibility—it's the perfect backdrop for both epic quests and quiet moments of self-discovery. YA Fantasy gives me the freedom to blend coming-of-age struggles with world-ending stakes, where a character can worry about their first kiss one moment and face down a dragon the next, and both feel equally important. I love how YA readers embrace emotional intensity and aren't afraid of big feelings or bold choices, which means I can write characters who leap before they look and love fiercely without reservation.


Favorite food. 

French Fries—especially from Freddy’s.


 Tea or coffee or what? 

Can I cheat and say hot chocolate instead, because while everyone else is debating the merits of caffeine versus tannins, I'm over here living my best life with marshmallows and whipped cream?


Yes. Pizza or ice cream? 

Pizza!


Wine or beer or soda or what? 

Nope, nope, nope… water. I’m boring. 


Where would you like to visit? 

Scotland! Apparently, I have history there. 


.        Favorite musical artist. 

        Right now I'm completely obsessed with Daniel Deuschle—his music has this perfect blend of energy and emotion that somehow manages to soundtrack both my writing sessions and my kitchen dance parties.

Do     you listen to music when you write? Sometimes. What? I can only listen to instrumental. I can’t listen to songs    with any kind of lyrics when I’m writing. Too distracting




What makes you laugh? 

My cat absolutely cracks me up. She's claimed my office chair as her personal amusement park and will beg me to spin her around, then leap right back on every time I try to reclaim it. It’s like she's running her own feline carnival ride.


Favorite work of art or sculpture. 

I'm captivated by sculptures that capture flowing fabric, like Philippe Faraut's"Child Bride"—there's something devastatingly beautiful about how stone can be transformed into something so delicate it seems to move with an invisible breeze.


How old were you when you started writing? 

About fifteen.


Do you plan out your book with outlines and notecards? Or just write? 

I used to just write. Now I have a little more structure. I try to at least have a plot in mind and develop my characters to really suit it. Then I write towards an end goal. Sometimes the characters take me on strange adventures. 


Describe your perfect evening. 

My perfect evening is sitting on the back porch with my husband, hot chocolate warming my hands while our cat purrs in my lap, watching thunderstorms roll in as the kids play outside.


Where do you get your inspiration? 


My inspiration comes from everywhere, but growing up in Germany definitely shaped my imagination—there's something about being surrounded by castles, ancient forests, and centuries of stories embedded in every cobblestone that makes magic feel inevitable. Recently, a whole new story was born during a flight home from visiting my sister when I looked out the airplane window and saw this incredible sea of white, bubbling clouds edged in golden sunlight. Suddenly, my brain went completely rogue and I could see an old ship sailing through those clouds with mermaids swimming alongside it through the sky, and I knew I had to write that story.



What do you do when you get a writer's block? 

Thank goodness I haven't had writer's block in a while, but when it does strike, I've learned to step away from the project and go for a walk with instrumental music—no lyrics allowed—because sometimes my brain just needs permission to wander until it stumbles back onto the right path.


Who is your favorite author? 

Right now I'm completely obsessed with Brandon Sanderson—his world-building is so intricate and his magic systems so cleverly constructed that I find myself taking notes like I'm studying for a masterclass in fantasy writing.


Best book you ever read. 

I'd have to say "Assassin's Apprentice" by Robin Hobb, because that was the book that grabbed me by the heart and whispered "you need to write stories like this.”


Last book you read. 

“Project Hail Mary” by Andy Weir. Excellent book. A little slow to begin, but such a fantastic ending. 


What would you do for a living if you weren’t a writer? 

If I weren't a writer, I'd probably be a personal trainer—there's something appealing about helping people transform their lives through movement and strength, plus I'd get to boss people around in a socially acceptable way.


Who is the one person who has influenced your personal life the most and why? 

I would have to say my husband. He believes in me so much. Not only that, he is the one who convinced me to get published. He had my back the whole time, and still does. If he says he’ll do something, he does it. I was used to dreaming and wishing. He makes things happen. 



If you could sit down and have a conversation with ONE person, living or dead, real or fictional, who would it be and why? 

Studio Ghibli’s Hayao Miyazaki, without question! His work represents everything I aspire to as a storyteller. Creating characters so beautifully flawed and real, content that appeals to all ages, and the power of stories to build people up and give them hope. 



What advice would you give someone who aspired to be a writer? 

Start writing now, even if it's terrible. I began in shared notebooks during high school, and those messy collaborative stories taught me more about storytelling than any class could have. And learn to take criticism as fuel for growth. Rejection letters hurt, but each one taught me something valuable about my craft. If you're not getting feedback, you're not growing.


Carol Ann, Thank you so much for the opportunity to be featured on Vision and Verse! I'm thrilled to be part of your blog's incredible twelve-year journey and to connect with your audience of book lovers. I should mention that I'm a client of Michel Evan, who recommended your wonderful blog.


It is my pleasure, Christy, to introduce my audience to such a terrific writer! I thank Michael for his referral. We at Vision and Verse wish you continued success in all your writing endeavors. 



Social Media Links:

Book Information: 

The Roanfire Saga (4-book fantasy series) - https://a.co/d/566fdsH

Thank you again for this wonderful opportunity to share my work with the Vision and Verse community. I really appreciate all the work you do to support authors and celebrate the arts!

Best regards, Christy Miller (C.K. Miller)

P.S. I love that your blog celebrates the connection between visual arts and literature - it's such a perfect




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Tuesday, June 23, 2026

BOOK REVIEW: Killing Time in Georgia by Susan Kiernan-Lewis




















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Monday, June 22, 2026

ART: British Columbian Landscape Artist Michael O’Toole


 




This photo appearing on Facebook from my friend Elizabeth Monroe, who posts some fantastic art images, is the one that started my research into British Columbian landscape and seascape artist Michael O’Toole. 








All images are from Facebook and Michael O’Toole’s website, http://otooleart.com/











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Sunday, June 21, 2026

SCHEDULE: June 22-26, 2026


 Monday, June 22 - ART:
British Columbian Landscape Artist
Michael O’Toole
Tuesday, June 23 - BOOK REVIEW:
Killing Time in Georgia
by Susan Kieran-Lewis
Wednesday, June 24 - INTERVIEW:
Young Adult Fantasy Author
C.K. Miller
Thursday, June 25 - TV TIME:
Sheriff County
(Fox)
Friday, June 26 - BOOK:
Lord of BLAKELEY
by Carol Ann Kauffman




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Friday, June 19, 2026

BOOK: June Green Leaves of Deceit by Carol Ann Kauffman


 

Join Cat Collier is this serial mystery short story series, described as a cross between Nancy Drew and Mike Hammer.

Carter disappoints Cat in the worst possible way. She begins to doubt her worth. Can a new location bolster Cat’s self-confidence? Is she strong enough to let a new love in?

June Green Leaves of Deceit continues and adventures and misadventures of Mary Catherine Collier, known as Cat, as she opens a second online investigation office, away from Heaton Valley and the love and support she’s known there. Can she make it on her own?



Amazon Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Green-Leaves-Deceit-Collier-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07DYFCFS3




Excerpt:

Chapter One

Gauze and Breeze

 

 

It was a perfect June morning in northeastern Ohio. The sun illuminated the periwinkle sky as a gentle breeze fluttered through the open window of my gorgeous office on the eighth floor of the beautiful Palazzo Castellano, a hotel situated in the center of downtown Heaton Valley.  Perfect morning. Perfect office. Perfect little town.

So why was I so damn miserable? 

I have everything a girl could want. I’m living my dream. I have my own private online investigation business in a big, beautiful office that adjoins the office of a sweet, handsome lawyer who just happens to love me to pieces. I have a new car, gorgeous clothes, and a huge rock of an engagement ring so big I could use to put out an eye in a street fight. I have a wonderful circle of friends and family who love and support me in whatever I do. I am my own boss. Nobody tells me what to do. 

So then… why the misery?

I don’t know. Because I’m not the person I used to be, maybe. My motto has always been honesty is the best policy. But one lie led to two, then four, and they continued to grow at an alarming rate. I almost needed to carry around a notebook to write down my lies in order to keep them straight. But I was afraid I’d lose it, someone would find it, and discover my deceit.

I’m no longer the honest human being I thought I was. Lately, I lie to people on a daily basis. I lie to my mother. I told her I met Kayko in Los Angeles last year at the newspaper convention. I told her there was nothing serious going on between Kayko and my brother Dane. I told her Kayko would probably be going back to California soon. 

My wonderful fiancé whom I adore? Yes, I lie to him, too. Of course, you can come with me, Carter. And no, I’m not up to anything. And I nurture those lies and cuddle up to them and keep them warm. 

I am keeping the truth from my brother Dane about his new girlfriend, Kayko. He thinks she’s a little wounded bird. And he is dead-set on saving this orphaned waif. Little does he know, she not an orphan. She has family and a betrothed in China. She was part in a human trafficking ring. She lived as a homeless person on the streets of Detroit. And her name is made up, like every other part of her life.

I lied to my client Jack Harlan. I know who the father of his girlfriend’s daughter is, and it’s not some dead Italian Art professor. Lystra’s father is very much alive and is an extremely dangerous criminal. And as far as keeping his fiancée Simone out of the loop? Well, guess what, she knows everything.

And I lied to Kayko. Sure, I can get you papers so you can stay in the country legally. Sure, I can keep you safe. Sure, I can hide you from international sex trade criminals.

I took a deep breathe. Stop it, Cat. Everybody tells a few untruths every now and then, don’t they? Maybe I was blowing this whole honesty crisis out of proportion. Maybe a walk in the park across the street would clear my head and help me feel better. I pulled on my jacket and put my wallet and keys in my pocket. 

 

Just then I heard the sound of stiletto heels clicking on the tile floor, slowly, deliberately, almost seductively, into Carter’s adjoining office. He likes to keep the door between our two offices open in case I get into trouble. He believes private investigation tends to draw out the most unsavory of characters and he worries about my safety. I peeked around the corner.

The most gorgeous girl I ever saw in my life was standing in Carter’s office. A beautiful face framed with long, flowing, shiny brown curls gazed at Carter. Her hands on her hips, feet apart, her tiny gauzy dress blowing slightly in the breeze. Skin, hair, figure, nails, outfit - all perfect.

“Hello, Lover,” the beautiful creature purred.

“Yvette!” called Carter.

Yvette. Of course, my finance’s ex-girlfriend had to be the most beautiful girl in the world.

“What are you doing here?” Carter said in shock.

“I miss you, Rick,” she cooed as she walked runway-style around his desk. 

I hid around the corner, plastering myself to the wall, trying to calm myself. I peeked around slowly.

She pulled open his bottom desk drawer.

“What are you want?” Carter asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want… you. I want you back.”

Yvette put her foot up on the bottom drawer. The sun streaming through the window left nothing to the imagination. Little Miss Yvette, the beautiful underwear model, wasn’t wearing any.

“Yvette, I’m engaged to a …

She reached over and grasped his hand. She placed his hand gently on her uppermost inner thigh, then slid it up.

Carter moaned. 

I knew that particular moan. I knew it very well. I held my stomach. I thought I was going to puke. I needed to get out of the office. I couldn’t bear to stand here and listen to her… to them… I slipped off my shoes and quietly made for my office door.

Once in the hallway, I ran to the elevator at break-neck speed. I went up to our penthouse apartment. I just made it into the bathroom. Crying and puking. Heaving and sobbing.

I knew it! I just knew the someday he’d want his old life back. Big Manhattan lawyer with his underwear model Barbie Doll of a girlfriend. Why would he be satisfied with this boring, little hick-town existence? With me? Why was I surprised? I knew it was coming. More sobs, more heaves. 

I threw some clothes in a suitcase and found some shoes. I placed my big, beautiful, heart-shaped diamond engagement ring in the center of the dining room table. I ran. 

Where could I go? I let my friend Marcy Winegard stay at my old shoebox of an apartment while she looks for a place. She and boyfriend Carl Hayden called it quits and she needed a place. I could stay with my sister. I know she would take me, but she was at work and I need to get out of here right now. Where could I go?

 

“Mom?” I cried.

“What is it, Cat? What’s wrong?”

“Carter…” I blubbered. “And Yvette.”

My normally nasty, caustic, supercritical mother wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close to her. She stroked my hair.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. He was really something special. You two were so happy. So, he packed up and went back to New York and the underwear model girlfriend, huh?”

“No. She came to his office. In this flimsy, little see-through dress. I was just leaving. I saw…” I cried some more. “I saw her seduce him. He didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t push her away. He didn’t say stop. He… he moaned.” More tears and sobs.

“Men! They’re horrible, disgusting creatures. Sex maniacs, all of them. They have no self-respect or self-control.”

“Not Daddy.”

“No, not your father. And not your brother. But all the rest of them. And just what did he have to say for himself when you confronted him?”

“I didn’t. I haven’t talked to him. I ran away”

“What did Detrick have to say about his perfect, wonderful son?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if he knows.”

My mother eyed my suitcase.

“Come on, honey, let’s go upstairs and get the small bedroom ready. Then I’ll make you some soup. Tomato soup and a toasted cheese sandwich. And a pickle or two. And a cup of tea. Then you can take a little nap. You’ll feel better. This is part of life, my dear girl. Everybody gets their heart broken. You don’t get out of life without at least one major beat-down. “But you’ll be okay. In fact, you’ll be even stronger than before.” 

My cell phone rang. I took it out of my pocket and threw it on the couch. 

My mother peeped over. “It’s Detrick. Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”

She peeped again.

“I see Carter called a number of times. Do you think you should talk to him?”

“No.”

“Okay. Maybe later,” said my mom as we went upstairs to the small bedroom.

 

I finally discovered the secret of understanding my mother. When I had anything at all going for me at all, she felt it was her motherly obligation to point out all my faults, tell me what I was doing wrong, and how anything bad that happened anywhere in the western hemisphere was somehow my fault.

But when I was physically hurt, or brokenhearted and wanted to curl up in a ball and die, my mother was wonderful. 

 







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