Excerpt 1:
Each
gesture seemed to blend in with the music, as if he were a silent film start
acting out a role. It was when he lifted a drink to his mouth that his eyes
wandered away from the two young women. It was when he took the first swallow
with his head angled over the glass that his eyes wandered along the row of
occupied chairs until the rested on me.
I
quickly turned my attention to the twirling bodies, but it wasn’t long before a
black and white vision appeared out of the corner of my eye.
“Miss
Abigail Parker.”
I
willed myself not to do anything stupid as Liam bowed and extended his hand to
me. Everything felt like a fantasy at that point – the
gowns, the music, the dancing, Liam – a pure intoxication. People watched from every corner. The
older woman embraced my arm as if to congratulate me.
Liam’s
mouth moved, but his words weren’t registering. I placed my hand into his and
let him guide me to my feet.
Excerpt 2:
The moment he leaned in, I
closed my eyes. His lips, soft and full, touched mine with the modest pressure
of an indecisive act. A warm energy coursed through my body, but the strangest
thing was that everything felt unbelievably familiar, like it had all been
rehearsed before that moment. I held onto this profound feeling, not wanting it
to leave, until Ben removed his lips from mine.
Even with the whistled melodies
from a pair of cardinals outside the church's entrance, the following silence
felt awkward. It persisted, and I assumed Ben was already regretting kissing
me.
"Miss Abigail−"
I brought up a hand and covered
his mouth. "It's okay."
We walked down the hill without
saying another word. A lot of activity was happening on Main Street: coaches
lined the front of the Royal Hotel as travelers zipped in and out of the main
entrance; horse carts delivered goods in dashes of haste; store merchants
hurried beyond their open doors; street sellers sold goods out of baskets;
helpers swept the boardwalk; ladies could be seen purchasing last minute
necessities behind the windows of each shop.
Ben accompanied me up the stairs
of Town Hall's entrance and stopped on the landing before we reached the front
door. I peered through the window. Martha arranged long-stemmed flowers in a
vase on a table at the side of the ballroom. A young man placed a candelabra on
a table and then another on top of a piano. Ben had already started back to the
street when I turned. He waved. I waved back. Still a chance he'll change his mind.
The gloves were easier to remove
now that one was missing its button. I placed them, and the button, on the
ledge of the window and took off the ring.
Jess was still sitting on my bed
when the haze cleared, but her tapping fingers had moved from her chin, which
now rested on her knuckles. It was obvious it had taken longer for me to return
this time. It made sense to me right then that the ring held within it a finite
amount of energy with which to transport me to the past and back home, like a
battery depleting its energy with each use. And, I had no idea how to recharge
it.
Excerpt 3:
“Murderer?” Jess asked above my head.
“Yeah, somethin’ about−” He looked up at the ceiling. Jess
covered her mouth with her hand. Just
like she does during frightening movies when blood gushes.
“Yeah, some girl. He killed her. Dead,” Justin said in an aren’t I great for remembering kind of
way.
Try to remain calm. There
must have been loads of guys with the last name of Dunstone in the past one
hundred and forty years.
“Yeah, he killed a girl, that’s it. The guy totally lost it one
night. Almost killed a dude too, I think. Ended up in jail for the rest of his
life.”
My knees softened and my legs felt like they would buckle. I was
barely able to compose myself enough to speak. “Well, um, any idea what this
guy did for a living?”
He looked up again as if gathering information from the ceiling
tiles. “Farmer, I think.”
My legs firmed immediately and my mouth released a sigh. I tilted my
head to one side, letting Jess know it was time to go.
“Nope,” came out of Justin’s mouth. “Now that I’m thinkin’ about it,
the guy wasn’t a farmer at all.”
We stopped moving. I stopped breathing.
Excerpt 4:
I waited for him to make the
next move, to tell me how inappropriate, how forward that was of me. As I
struggled to think of how best to offer an explanation, he turned to me. Gently
but deliberately, he moved his hand up my arm, stopping at the nape of my neck
beneath the ribbon of the bonnet.
The moment he leaned in, I closed
my eyes. His lips, soft and full, touched mine with the modest pressure of an
indecisive act. A warm energy coursed through my body, but the strangest thing
was that everything felt unbelievably familiar, like it had all been rehearsed
before that moment. I held onto this profound feeling, not wanting it to leave,
until Ben removed his lips from mine.
Even with the whistled melodies
from a pair of cardinals outside the church's entrance, the following silence
felt awkward. It persisted, and I assumed Ben was already regretting kissing
me.
"Miss Abigail−"
I brought up a hand and covered
his mouth. "It's okay."
We walked down the hill without
saying another word. A lot of activity was happening on Main Street: coaches
lined the front of the Royal Hotel as travelers zipped in and out of the main
entrance; horse carts delivered goods in dashes of haste; store merchants
hurried beyond their open doors; street sellers sold goods out of baskets;
helpers swept the boardwalk; ladies could be seen purchasing last minute
necessities behind the windows of each shop.
Ben accompanied me up the stairs
of Town Hall's entrance and stopped on the landing before we reached the front
door. I peered through the window. Martha arranged long-stemmed flowers in a
vase on a table at the side of the ballroom. A young man placed a candelabra on
a table and then another on top of a piano. Ben had already started back to the
street when I turned. He waved. I waved back. Still a chance he'll change his mind.
The gloves were easier to remove
now that one was missing its button. I placed them, and the button, on the
ledge of the window and took off the ring.
Jess was still sitting on my bed
when the haze cleared, but her tapping fingers had moved from her chin, which
now rested on her knuckles. It was obvious it had taken longer for me to return
this time. It made sense to me right then that the ring held within it a finite
amount of energy with which to transport me to the past and back home, like a
battery depleting its energy with each use. And, I had no idea how to recharge
it.
DO YOU EVER WISH YOU
WERE SOMEONE ELSE?
When I was younger I
never wished to be someone else, but always wanted to be a better version of how I saw myself, whether
it was my appearance or how much I knew. Now that I'm older, I sometimes think
it would be a great thing to go back in time to my younger self to tell her
she's fine just the way she is.
WHAT PART OF THE
WRITING PROCESS DO YOU DREAD?
I consider myself to be
a slow, calculating type of writer. So, when I begin a story it seems the most
difficult time for me because it takes me a while to get into the flow of the
story. As I continue, the characters evolve into their own personalities and
the writing then becomes easier.
TELL US ABOUT VICTORIAN
TOWN
VICTORIAN TOWN is a
young adult paranormal romance novel. It's about a troubled seventeen-year-old
girl who breaks into a tourist attraction. She comes in contact there with a
spirit from the 19th century who drags her back in time, although she is able
to return to the present at will. She eventually comes to realize she's been
summoned to the past to solve a mystery, and that her actions could end up
changing the lives of everyone she loves.
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN
WRITING?
The short answer is
since grade school. The longer answer is I've seriously been writing for eight
years. I spent decades trying to convince myself that just because I thought in
my heart that I was a writer, it didn't necessarily mean I was one. Through
many years I listened to people say that they wanted to write a book, but none
of them ever did. So, I kept dismissing my own yearnings. But they were like
itches I could never scratch away.
WAT ADVICE WOULD YOU
GIVE A NEW WRITER STARTING OUT?
To not give up. To know
going in that it takes time to hone your writing skills. Learn from other
writers who have the experience you still need, whether by joining a writing
group or attending lectures or researching the Internet. If you can, get some
feedback from others who aren't in your family. There are editors who may be
starting out who can give you feedback and critique your work. Be patient, keep
writing and know you will feel less than others, especially at the beginning of
your writing journey. Don't compare yourself to anyone but who you were last
week, or the week before, as you learn. All writers have to go through these
times.
TELL US SOMETHING ABOUT
VICTORIAN TOWN THAT IS NOT IN THE BLURB.
The main character,
Abby, has a best friend - her only best friend since grade school. A big part
of my book is her relationship with this friend, Jessica. Neither of them want
to live without the other.
HAVE YOU EVER HAD AN
IMAGINARY FRIEND?
When I was in grade
school, I felt comforted by small porcelain animal figures of mine that I'd
take to school with me, hidden in a pocket. Throughout the day, I'd comfort the
figurine which was actually comforting myself. I'd tell the cat or rabbit or
dot that it was only a few minutes until recess or lunchtime. I made sure they
knew they were cared for.
DO YOU HAVE ANY
PHOBIAS?
I don't like taxidermy
heads of animals, so I try and pretend they don’t exist if I happen to be in a
restaurant that has stuffed moose heads, etc. on the walls.
DO YOU EVER READ YOUR
STORIES OUT LOUD?
I can honestly say that
I don't though I've heard that it's a good idea. I don't read my stories out
loud because it wouldn't sound like my character - and it doesn't seem right
for me to give a character my voice when they already have their own.
TELL US ABOUT YOU MAIN
CHARACTER AND WHO INSPIRED HIM/HER
When I was a teenager I
was inspired by many things and many friends. A vital part of me seemed to
remain in the past. So, my main character’s personality bubbled to the surface
easily, as most of my young characters do. They inspire me because I've never
truly discarded them in my mind.
ANY WEIRD THINGS YOU DO
WHEN YOU'RE ALONE?
I talk to my dog in
weird ways. Sometimes my voice is high-pitched; sometimes I growl at him and
call him silly nicknames like he's a baby. Like I said, it's weird.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE
QUOTE AND WHY?
My favourite quote is:
"I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul", from the
poem “Invictus” by William Ernest Henley. William was only in his twenties in
1875 when he wrote the poem. He was in the hospital with severe health
problems, yet he showed tremendous courage in his poems.
WHO IS YOUR FAVOURITE
AUTHOR AND WHY?
I have to say Ernest
Hemingway, only because the first adult book I ever read was "The Old Man
and the Sea" that he wrote. I was quite young and the book affected me in
an emotional way. I also have to say that in the past few years I've fallen in
love with Anton Chekhov, the famous 19th century author. My husband doesn't
seem too concerned.
WHAT, IN YOUR OPINION,
ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT ELEMENTS OF GOOD WRITING?
There are technical
aspects and there are emotional elements. But I'd have to say the most
important element for me is the reactions of my characters. I try to make sure
they act an honest manner, true to their unique personalities and emotions.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE
ICE CREAM FLAVOUR?
Chocolate. Or maybe
butterscotch swirl. Or maybe orange sherbert.
WHICH MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE DO YOU LIKE BEST?
Easy. Pegasus. I've
been a horse lover forever. Going horseback riding as a pre-teen and then
teenager was my favourite activity.
HOW DO YOU DEVELOP YOUR
PLOT AND CHARACTERS?
The characters and
their situations come to me quickly. The story always involves some aspect of
what I've experienced in my life. The plot comes next after I mull around
different scenarios in my head and get inside my characters’ heads.
DESCRIBE YOUR WRITING
SPACE
I have a writing room
on the second floor of my home. It's a small room, but perfect to write in. The
uncanny thing is that my family and I moved into the house twenty years ago,
when I was still stuffing down my feelings of being a writer. But this
particular room was already decorated with wallpaper consisting of rows upon
rows of realistic looking books on one wall. It was like the universe was
trying to get me to finally “get in there and get writing!”
WHAT ARE THINGS YOU
CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT?
My two sons, my
husband, my dogs, food and water.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE
TELEVISION SHOW?
I prefer to read, but
I'd have to say my favourite shows are on Netflix and On Demand. I don't like
waiting for commercials to finish.
WHAT HAVE YOU COMING
OUT FOR US TO LOOK OUT FOR?
I have been working on
a young adult novel set in 1971. It's about a Canadian teenage girl who meets
up with a U.S. draft dodger. It comes
out this May, 2021 and is called The
Somewhere I See You Again.
WHAT'S THE SWEETEST
THING SOMEONE HAS DONE FOR YOU?
When I was around ten
years old, a gentleman accidently ran over my cat on the street in front of my
childhood house. He came to our door and offered to get me a new kitten. I
remember crying and screaming at him. I only wanted my cat, Charlie, back. He
was such a nice man. He could have simply driven off, but he didn't.
WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR
BEST IDEAS?
Sometimes ideas come to
me when I'm in bed trying to get to sleep. Others I've held in my brain for a
long time, especially things that bothered me when I was growing up.
WHAT DOES YOUR MAIN
CHARACTER DO THAT MAKES HIM/HER SPECIAL?
Abby is an old soul, so
to speak. She's beyond her years in how she thinks. And she wants to be a hero.
IF WE WERE TO COME TO
YOUR HOUSE FOR A MEAL, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
I should say pasta
because I'm half Italian, but it would probably be something my husband
barbecued, with different salads made by me. We would sit in my backyard by the
pool and talk. I love to hear about peoples’ lives. Everyone has a story in
them.
WHAT WOULD WE FIND
UNDER YOUR BED?
Dust and dog fur,
probably. I’m afraid to look.
WHAT WAS THE SCARIEST
MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE?
When I was around
fourteen, I was almost snatched off the street by a couple of young men who
jumped out of their car and tried to grab me. My girlfriend was too frightened
to do anything to help me, so I plunged my entire body to the sidewalk while I
kicked and screamed. I guess they didn't want to deal with me because they got
back in their car and took off.
WHAT GROUP DID YOU HANG
OUT WITH IN HIGH SCHOOL?
I was in two groups in
high school - one I referred to as my gang with six guys and six girls, and the
other was a group of girls I was in as part of an all girl band.
WHAT ARE YOU PASSIONATE
ABOUT THESE DAYS?
I'm passionate about my
family. I'm passionate about what's going on in the world. I'm passionate about
my writing. I'm passionate about anyone who picks up my book and decides to
read it.
IF YOU HAD TO DO YOUR
JOURNEY TO GETTING PUBLISHED AGAIN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO DIFFERENTLY?
I would try to not feel
so heartbroken at each rejection.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE
SCENE IN THIS BOOK?
My favorite scene in
Victorian Town is at the end, when Abby narrates from the graveyard. She's still struggling to make sense of
everything, when not everything can be made sense of.
IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE
PARANORMAL ABILITY, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
To travel back in time.
I'd love to see my dad again, and again, and again.
WHAT IS ONE THING YOUR
READERS WOULD BE MOST SURPRISED TO LEARN ABOUT YOU?
My age. I started
writing after my boys were grown, so I'm older than many young adult authors.
But the good thing is, a vital part of me never moved on from my teenage years.
I've always been aware of this.
WHEN WRITING
DESCRIPTIONS OF YOUR HEROINE, WHAT FEATURE DO YOU START WITH?
I start with his or her
attitude. How badass or passive are they? How confident or vulnerable? How
persuasive or gullible? How serious or funny? How damaged?
ARE YOU A PLOTTER OR A
PANSTER?
Hmmm. Both at times. I
start with the characters and some sort of plot then let the characters evolve.
Sometimes they decide to change an aspect of the plot or take the story in a
different direction although my general vision remains.
DID YOU LEARN ANYTHING
FROM WRITING THIS BOOK? IF SO, WHAT?
I learned a lot about
the 19th century.
IF YOU COULD APOLIGIZE
TO SOMEONE IN YOUR PAST, WHO WOULD IT BE?
My best friend. When I
was a teenager, I hitchhiked with her across Canada for two summers. I
eventually chose my boyfriend over her. A terrible mistake.
IF YOU COULD KEEP A
PARANORMAL CREATURE AS A PET, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
A creature small enough
to fit into my pocket. I'd take it everywhere with me, as long as it didn't
bite.
HOW DO YOU KEEP YOUR
WRITING DIFFERENT FROM ALL THE OTHERS THAT WRITE IN THIS PARTICULAR GENRE?
I think because I'm
older than a lot of YA authors, my writing naturally comes out in a unique way.
I've had different experiences in different time spans.
ARE THE EXPERIENCES IN
THIS BOOK BASE ON SOMEONE YOU KNOW, OR EVENTS IN YOUR OWN LIFE?
I'm not the kind of
author who can make up entire worlds and inhabitants like a fantasy writer. In
everything I write, my experiences in my own life are interwoven somewhere in
the story.
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