Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Interview with Suzanna J. Linton



Suzanna J. Linton

South Carolina, USA


Good morning, Suzanna and welcome to Vision and Verse, the place for Art and Authors. Can you tell us a little about what you've written?
I have published three novels in two separate series. My first series is Stories of Lorst and the novels in it are Clara and Clara’s Return. The second series is The Lands of Sun and Stone Series with only one novel, called Willows of Fate.



What is your favorite genre to write?
I write mostly in fantasy. Anything with fantasy elements is fun for me to write.

Favorite food.
I could eat dolmades all day!

Tea or coffee?
Depends on my mood. Right now: coffee.

Pizza or ice cream?
Why not both?


You are my kind of people! Both. Wine or beer?
Usually beer, though I like wine if I’m eating something “fancy”.

Where would you like to visit?
I want to go to the United Kingdom so badly. I especially want to visit Scotland.

Scotland is on my bucket list, too, Suzanna. Favorite musical artist.  Do you listen to music when you write?  What?
My favorite artist right now is The Chainsmokers. I do listen to music when I write and it tends to be a playlist I’ve put together either for writing or for a specific book. I love to listen to rock and roll, alternative, and some pop.

What makes you laugh?
My husband, even when I’m angry with him.


He sounds like a keeper! Favorite work of art or sculpture.
I have an icon depicting a detail of a larger mural that shows Christ creating the sky and it hangs over my desk. It’s such a powerful image of creativity that I feel inspired whenever I look at it.


How old were you when you started writing?
When I was old enough to hold a pencil, I started scribbling, but I wrote my first poem when I was eight or so.

Do you plan out your book with outlines and notecards? Or just write?
I tend to brainstorm in a composition notebook, though I have used notecards before. I try not to outline too much because I know I’m not going to keep to it. Once I have a definite climax in mind, and I can hear the voices of my characters, that’s when I write.

Describe your perfect evening.
At home, eating pizza while watching a movie with my darling.

Where do you get your inspiration?
I have no idea. I think there’s a cauldron in the back of my mind that receives everything I see, hear, and read. From time to time, story ideas spill out.

What do you do when you get a writer's block?
I try to find out what I’m afraid of and try to work through that. Writer’s block is all about fear and anxiety. Once you find the root, you can “unblock” yourself.

Who is your favorite author?
That varies but, right now, it’s Robin McKinley and Patricia Briggs.

Best book you ever read.
The Night Circus by Morgenstern

Last book you read.
Silence Fallen by Patricia Briggs

What would you do for a living if you weren’t a writer?
I don’t think I could exist if I weren’t a writer.


Who is the one person who has influenced your personal life the most and why?
Religious figures aside, I would have to say my husband. Someone once said you should pick a partner who makes you a better person. I like to think he does that for me.

If you could sit down and have a conversation with ONE person, living or dead, real or fictional, who would it be and why?
Ben Shaw from the Mercy Thompson Series. I just want to hear how foul mouth he can get and what would happen if someone flirted with him.

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

Don’t give up. Don’t let the negativity of others tear you down. Learn the difference between constructive and destructive criticism and never listen to the latter.

Do you have some links for us to follow you?



Looking for a good read?

Clara's Return: books2read.com/clarasreturn
























Monday, January 29, 2018

Bentley Square by Carol Ann Kauffman


Dear Gentle Readers,

BENTLEY SQUARE, Time After Time, is the story of two unlikely lovers, Miss Rebeca Robbins, wealthy businesswoman and community activist, and Mark Ramsey, a down-on-his-luck office manager, shrouded in danger and mystery.

Strangers meet on the train. She, a beautiful, wealthy businesswoman. He, a down on his luck office manager. They have nothing in common. And yet, they are drawn to each other with an undeniable hypnotic magnetism. This is the story of Rebecca Robbins, daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country and Mark Ramsay, a man shrouded in dark mystery and hiding in the shadows from death squads amid international intrigue.
Buy Link: http://tinyurl.com/laudaku

I know an author's not supposed to have favorites of her own stories. It's like liking one of your kids more than the rest. BUT I DO like BENTLEY SQUARE and The BASLICATO very much. Here is an excerpt from Bentley Square.

Excerpt:


Deadly Ambush

Becca was ready a little before eight, but wanted to give him a few minutes to walk up from the ad agency. She freshened up a bit, smoothed her favorite lilac skirt and sweater set, and squirted on a little Chanel perfume. She went down to the first floor and watched for him out the window, her heart pounding. When she saw him, she went outside to meet him.
He broke out into a giant smile when he saw her. She was right. He had one gorgeous smile when he decided to let it out. He reached for her hand. She responded, squeezing his hand.
“Hi. Mark!”
That touch! That magic touch of hers, he thought; just the feel of her hand in his was something wonderful. He remembered this warm loving feeling, but from where? 
“I’m so happy to see you. I thought you…” he trailed off.
“I almost made it, Mark, my hand was on the door. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey. I understand unreasonable bosses.” He smiled again.
“Mark, I have to tell you something, something I should have told you the day we met.”
“Are you married?” He held his breath, knowing full well he still wouldn’t back off, no matter what she answered. Now that he found her, he would pursue her, even if she were married. It would just be harder and messier. The only way he’d leave her is if she told him to go away, not some husband who obviously ignored her and left her alone too much.
“No.”
“Good. I can handle anything else. Tell me. Is it bad news?”
“Well, no, it isn’t bad for me at all, but you may think it is.”
“No, if you don’t think it’s bad, I won’t, either. I promise. Come on, it’ll sound better over coffee.” He wanted to hold on to this perfect moment with her a little longer before allowing anything in to ruin it and bring him crashing back to reality. They walked the rest of the way down to Sullivan’s hand in hand in silence, smiling over at each other every now and then, and took the booth farthest from the door. It was quieter, a little more private. He sat across from her and reached for her hand, feeling that surge of sheer bliss once again.
“Feel that?” She nodded. “It’s a cosmic connection…our cosmic connection.”
“It is?” she giggled.
“Yes. And you can’t deny a cosmic connection, you know,” he smiled and nodded. This felt so good, so right to him. He was hopeful, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. And happy.  Never this happy. Hopeful and happy. “I’ll buy you whatever you want. Are you hungry? You have to be, you’ve been at work all day. Sully makes a good meatloaf. And the pie is homemade. Mrs. Sullivan makes the best pies in the world,” he said, pulling ones and a five and change out of his pocket and laying it on the table. It was all he had until payday, and he didn’t care if he spent every penny of it on her tonight.
“Coffee will be fine. Black.”
“Are you sure?” She nodded. He ordered two black coffees.
“Before you begin, I need to tell you something first. You know I live at the Comstock and I work at Fusco’s Ad Agency. If I miss one day of work, or screw up just one time, he’ll fire me. I got my performance evaluation yesterday morning and it was less than satisfactory. Actually, it was horrible. I think I only got this manager’s position because I was the only one on staff who owned a suit and tie. I have no outstanding qualifications. I can be homeless and jobless very soon. I want to be very honest with you from the start, Becca. I’m no prize. Are you… sure… you want to give me a chance? You might want to think twice about even letting me hold your hand,” he said, still holding her hand, wanting to hold it forever.
“Mark, what are you trying to do? Make my bad news look good by comparison?” He laughed, still not letting go.
“Tell me. Come on. If I told you I could be homeless and jobless within the next three weeks, what could you possibly tell me that would be worse than that? And I appreciate your not running for the door, by the way.” She laughed.
“But, you see, I don’t care about those things. You can come and stay with me. There’s plenty of room where I live.” She played with his fingers. “And I have job connections here in the city, where you’ll at least get a decent lunch hour, and quite possibly some wonderful fringe benefits,” she nodded, flirting with him. “So… don’t worry about a place to live or a job, okay?”
“You’re very sweet. Now, tell me. Come on. You can tell me anything.” He smiled that big, wonderful smile and held on to her hand.
Becca was thrilled. She found him, and he was real. Not only was he real, but he was also considerate and very sweet, with an irresistible smile and big brown eyes. It was evident that he liked her, and he didn’t know she was heir to the massive Robbins fortune, or that she was already a millionaire on her own. Yet.  
“Okay. Here goes. Now don’t get upset.” She squeezed his hand.
“I promise you I won’t get upset. Right now, sitting here with you, holding your hand, I’m feeling incredibly lucky to have found you, and nothing could upset me. I haven’t been this happy, Becca, oh, …ever.” He smiled at her, his heart soaring. “Come on, honey, tell me.”
 “Mark, I’m Rebecca…”

Shots rang out in the diner. Mark leaped over the table and covered her with his body, holding her head down on the booth seat. More shots.

Stay still and be quiet. They’re trained to shoot at any sound or movement.  I’ll protect you, honey, don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything harm you. Ever.

Bedlam ensued. Screaming, glass breaking, more shots, crying, running, more shooting, shouting, something crashing to the floor. Then sirens.
Becca thought, this can’t be happening! She had just found him, and he was all she had hoped for. More, actually. And now they were going to die in this coffee shop bullet barrage. They had, what, fifteen wonderful minutes together before all hell broke loose. And who was the target of this attack? Sully? Her? Who?
“Becca? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Mark, I’m okay.” She turned to face him. “But… you’ve been hit.” The front of his shirt was covered with blood.
   “I know,” he said.