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Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Alex Drinkwater JR.: The IAN Interview



Alex Drinkwater JR.
I am a retired US Government employee who recently finished a second career as a Defense contractor in the United Kingdom. I started writing fiction some 20 years ago but, with a full-time job and other obligations, I never gave my writing the time necessary to become truly successful. Now, I hope to devote full-time to being an author. I have written three novels and several short stories, a couple of which have appeared in online publications.  The first novel, "The Ghosts of Hanoi," is available as an ebook at several ebook distributors. The second, “Duly Constituted Authority,” is a political thriller about a struggle between the Pentagon and the White House and is now available for the Kindle reader at Amazon. I have recently finished the first of three planned science fiction novels about terrorism in the near future. My novels can be described as being halfway between Alan Drury and Tom Clancy. The short fiction tends toward horror and SF.

IAN. Hi Alex. Please tell us about your latest book: 
AD. “Duly Constituted Authority” concerns the struggles of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (and his fellow service chiefs) to maintain combat readiness and effectiveness of the US armed forces in the face of extreme “political correctness.”  Their adversary is not the Russians or the Iranians or even terrorists but the president of the United States, a radical who, with his equally radical Secretary of Defense, is determined to use the armed forces as a giant laboratory for social experimentation regardless of the consequences.  The result is a crisis with the Pentagon and the White House virtually at war with each other.  As this is going on, America’s enemies wait in the wings, looking for a chance to take advantage of the stalemate.  It is a tale of political intrigue, dueling political philosophies, and  the corruption of power.

IAN. How long did it take to write Duly Constituted Authority?
AD.  I worked on it on and off for about three years.

IAN. What inspired you to write the book?
AD.  Working for the Defense Department most of my adult life, I saw first hand how every social trend that came along had to be mirrored in the armed forces, regardless of the consequences.  From the most trivial to the most radical, these policies were implemented mostly so that military leadership would not appear to be “behind the times.”  One day I started thinking “what if a courageous flag officer or Defense official stood up and said “Stop!”  And “Duly” was born!

IAN. When do you normally write? In the morning or evening?
AD.  It’s catch as catch can with me.  I now have time to write so it’s pretty much whenever I feel like it.

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft? 
AD.  I just start writing and see where it goes!

IAN. How is “Duly Constituted Authority” different from others in your genre?
AD.  Many of the political/military fiction works today are techno thrillers and/or they are concerned with giant conspiracies in the government to take over the country, with the military and the CIA usually the bad guys.  “Duly” is a story of patriotism, courage, and the struggle to preserve the warrior spirit in the face of radicalism.

IAN. Is your book published in print, e-book or both?
AD.  For the time being, it is available as an e-book for the Kindle reader.

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading “Duly Constituted Authority?”
AD.   An appreciation for what can happen to our military (not to mention our country) if we forget what the military is for, as well as having read an entertaining and provocative story!

IAN. Where can we go to buy your book?

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone? 
AD. I am currently working on the Book Two of “In the Name of the Sun,” a combination of science fiction and “spy” fiction.  It takes place in the latter half of the  21st century and deals with an al-Qaeda-like terrorist group determined to prevent man from colonizing outer space.  I have not decided yet whether to publish the series as e-books or try the more traditional route of publication.

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
AD.  My first novel, “The Ghosts of Hanoi,” a story about the POW/MIA situation after the end of the Vietnam War, is available in several formats at these websites:


For the Kindle:

For the Nook reader: 

A sample of “In the Name of the Sun” is available here:

 (Samples of other work are available on Wattpad as well.)

My website is: www.alexdrinkwater.com  and I can be found on Facebook and Twitter as well.

Duly Constituted Authority by Alex Drinkwater, Jr.

Political/military thriller
348 pages


   Congresswoman Doreen Latourette, D, Louisiana, stood in the well of the House and held up a piece of paper.  “How much time do I have?”
The Speaker Pro Tem answered.  “The gentlelady from Louisiana has five minutes remaining.”
“I would like to read to the House from a letter I received recently from a young lady from my district who earlier this year enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.  Now this young lady, one Private Darla Wiggins from Bogalusa, is currently undergoing Marine basic training at Parris Island, South Carolina.  She has written and told me that she has been the target of unfair treatment at the hands of certain male personnel at that camp.”
Congressman Fred Baxter, Jr., R.- Texas closed his eyes.  Oh shit, here we go again.
Latourette continued.  “Private Wiggins, who is an African-American, tells of some of the most depraved treatment and language.  And why?  Because she had a little trouble completing the obstacle course which, I might add, is constructed in such a way as to put people with less upper body strength, such as women, at a distinct disadvantage.  Let me read you some of her--”
“Will the gentlelady yield?”  It was Baxter.
She ignored him.  “Let me read you some of her letter.  ‘Dear Representative Wiggins:  I am writing to tell of you of the grossly unfair treatment I have received at the hands of my Drill Instructor.  I enlisted in the Marine Corps--”
“Will the gentlelady yield?”  Baxter hated using the word even as he said it.  After all, he thought, isn’t “lady” the feminine of “gentleman?”  But the House had its formalities, no matter how ridiculous.
She finally gave in.  “For what purpose does the gentlemen from Texas wish me to yield?”
“For a question.”
“Then I will yield, but I reserve the balance of my time.”
The Pro Tem piped up again.  “Without objection so ordered.  The chair recognizes the gentlemen from Texas for a question.”
Baxter got up.  “I might remind the gentlelady from Louisiana that Marine basic training is not intended to be a picnic.  The purpose of the training--”
Latourette turned to the Chair.  “That is not a question, Mister Speaker, I said I’d yield for a question.”
The Pro Tem wielded his gavel as several voices were raised as once.  “I would remind the gentleman from Texas to limit his remarks to a question.”
Baxter shook his head.  “Fine.  Does the gentlelady from Texas realize that Marine basic training is intended to weed out the weak sisters from the rest -- ”he realized he’d made a  faux pas as soon as he said it -- “of the troops?  It’s not supposed to be a picnic, it’s supposed to  . . . ”
The expected explosion came.  Latourette could barely conceal the anger her voice.  “‘Weak sisters?’  What is that supposed to mean?  Is the gentleman insinuating that women have no place in the Marine Corps?  Mister Speaker, I demand an explanation of that remark!”
Before the Speaker could respond, Baxter spoke up.  “Hold it, hold it, I meant no offense.  It was just an expression.  What I meant was that the wheat has to be separated from the chaff, so to speak.  Basic training is meant to separate those who cannot physically or mentally hold up to stress.  It’s training for combat, for God’s sake.”
Latourette stood facing him, hands on hips.  “Did it ever occur to you, Congressman Baxter that perhaps the training is unfairly biased toward the male gender?”
“Sex,” he responded.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The male sex.  Gender is a grammatical term which is used in the wrong context here.”
She was becoming infuriated.  “Please answer my question, Congressman Baxter.”
The Pro Tem turned to a clerk.  “I forget who has the floor.”  The clerk shrugged.
Baxter went on.  “If the gentlelady is intending to further weaken the already weakened standards of our armed forces because some little lady couldn’t hack it, I would have to say, with all due respect, that she will find some stiff opposition from this side of the aisle.  And probably on her side of the aisle too.”
Latourette’s anger got the best of her as she sputtered.  “Why of all the -- I don’t believe what I’m hearing -- Mister Speaker . . . ”
Several voices joined hers.
“Mister Speaker!”
“Point of order!”
“Will the gentlelady yield?”
The Pro Tem finally slammed the gavel down sharply.  “The House will be in order.  The gentlelady from Louisiana has the floor.”
The “gentlelady” in question finally calmed down a bit and continued where she had left off.  “As I was saying, Private Wiggins goes on to detail the most demeaning and I must say, unfair treatment of her at the hands of her drill instructor.   I quote--”  She proceeded to read portions of the letter, describing Wiggins’ experience with Gunnery Sergeant Gore -- though she did not mention him by name -- with repeated statements of the overall   “unfairness” of the obstacle course as well as other aspects of the training.  Latourette ended with an impassioned plea for “fairness” in the training given in the armed forces.  “And so, Mister Speaker, I will introduce a bill which will insure that men and women are given equal treatment when to comes to military training and that people like Private Darla Wiggins are not treated in such a disgraceful manner.”
Her speech produced quite a bit of applause, especially from the more liberal members of the House (most of whom were on her side of the aisle), and an almost equal amount of groans from some on the other side.  Baxter turned to Congressman Bill White of Kansas.
“‘Gender norming.’ ”
“What?”
“They call it ‘gender norming.’  Making the standards lower so women can meet them.  But it’s another ‘BOHICA.”
White smiled and shook his head. “‘BOHICA?’  What’s that?”
“It’s an old expression government employees use a lot - 'Bend Over, Here It Comes Again.’”


Monday, June 4, 2012

Giacomo Giammatteo: The IAN Interview





I live in Texas now, but I grew up in Cleland Heights, a mixed ethnic neighborhood in Wilmington, Delaware, that sat on the fringes of the Italian, Irish and Polish neighborhoods. The main characters of Murder Takes Time grew up in Cleland Heights and many of the scenes in the book were taken from real-life experiences. 

Somehow I survived the transition to adulthood, but when my kids were young I left the Northeast and settled in Texas, where my wife suggested we get a few animals. I should have known better; we now have a full-blown animal sanctuary with rescues from all over. At last count we had 41 animals—12 dogs, a horse, a three-legged cat and 26 pigs. Oh, and one crazy—and very large—wild boar, who takes walks with me every day and happens to also be my best buddy. 

Since this is a bio some of you might wonder what I do. By day I am a headhunter, scouring the country for top talent to fill jobs in the biotech and medical device industry. In the evening I help my wife tend the animals, and at night—late at night—I turn into a writer. 

IAN. Please tell us about your latest book.
GG. Murder Takes Time is a story about three young boys—best friends—who swear an oath to be friends forever. The book begins with a brutal murder, and it falls into the mystery/thriller genre, but it is really a story about friendship and how experiences in life affect people in different ways; in fact, the series is called the Friendship & Honor Series. This is book one. 


IAN. How long did it take to write Murder Takes Time?
GG. It took about two months to do the first draft, then about six months to edit it.

IAN. What inspired you to write Murder Takes Time?
GG. I had been writing fantasy books, but I mostly read mysteries. One night I got an idea for doing a mystery and started it. 

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft? 
GG. I’m not a true outline person, but I always know the ending of the story before I start. I do have a basic idea of where it’s going-major plot points, etc. 

IAN. How is your book different from others in your genre?
GG. One of the reviewers on Amazon answered this far better than I could: 
This novel is not just a murder mystery.
This novel is not just a thriller.
This novel is not just a love story.
This novel is not just a life story.

This novel is all in one.

I absolutely love that review. 

IAN. Is Murder Takes Time published in print, e-book or both?
GG. both

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
GG. A satisfying read. I’m not trying to send any messages, just tell a good story. 

IAN. Where can we go to buy your book?
GG. It is exclusive to Amazon until July 12, 2012, then it will be available at all the online sites: B&N, Apple, Kobo, etc… 

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone?
GG. My next release is in July/August 2012. A Bullet for Carlos, is the first book in a new series—Blood Flows South. You can read about it on my website. I will also be bringing out the second book in the Friendship & Honor Series later this year. It’s already finished, but needs some final editing. 

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
GG. if anyone wants to know more about me they can check out my blogs. Most of them are stories about the animals from our sanctuary, or my kids, or other things I’m passionate about. 

The blog is here: www.giacomogiammatteo.com/blog 


MURDER TAKES TIME by Giacomo Giammatteo 
Page count: 438
Mystery/Thriller
Inferno Publishing Company


Chapter 1
Rule Number One―Murder Takes Time

Brooklyn, New York—Current Day

He sipped the last of a shitty cup of coffee and stared across the street at Nino Tortella, the guy he was going to kill. Killing was an art, requiring finesse, planning, skill—and above all—patience. Patience had been the most difficult to learn. The killing came naturally. He cursed himself for that. Prayed to God every night for the strength to stop. But so far God hadn’t answered him, and there were still a few more people that needed killing.

The waitress leaned forward to refill his cup, her cleavage a hint that more than coffee was being offered. “You want more?” 

He waved a hand—Nino was heading towards his car. “Just the check, please.” 

From behind her ear she pulled a yellow pencil, tucked into a tight bun of red hair, then opened the receipt book clipped to the pocket of her apron. Cigarette smoke lingered on her breath, almost hidden by the gum she chewed. 

Spearmint, he thought, and smiled. It was his favorite, too. 

He waited for her to leave, scanned the table and booth, plucked a few strands of hair from the torn cushion and a fingernail clipping from the windowsill. After putting them into a small plastic bag, he wiped everything with a napkin. The check was $4.28. He pulled a five and a one from his money clip and left them on the table. As he moved to the door he glanced out the window. Nino already left the lot, but it was Thursday, and on Thursdays Nino stopped for pizza.
He parked three blocks from Nino’s house, finding a spot where the snow wasn’t piled high at the curb. After pulling a black wool cap over his forehead, he put leather gloves on, raised the collar on his coat then grabbed his black sports bag. Favoring his left leg, he walked down the street, dropping his eyes if he passed someone. The last thing he wanted was a witness remembering his face.

He counted the joints in the concrete as he walked. Numbers forced him to think logically, kept his mind off what he had to do. He didn’t want to kill Nino. He had to. It seemed as if all of his life he was doing things he didn’t want to do. He shook his head, focused on the numbers again. 
When he drew near the house, he cast a quick glance to ensure the neighbors’ cars weren’t there. The door took less than thirty seconds to open. He kept his hat and gloves on, walked into the kitchen, and set his bag on the counter. He removed a pair of tongs and a shot glass, and set them on the coffee table. A glance around the room had him straightening pictures and moving dirty dishes to the sink. A picture of an older woman stared at him from a shelf above an end table. Might be his mother, he thought, and gently set it face down. Back to the kitchen. He opened the top of the black bag and removed two smaller bags. He set one in the fridge and took the other with him. 

The contents of the second bag—hair and other items—he spread throughout the living room. The crime scene unit would get a kick out of that. He did one final check, removed a baseball bat from the bag, then sat on the couch behind the door. The bat lay on the cushion beside him. While he stretched his legs and leaned back, he thought about Nino. It would be easy to just shoot him, but that wouldn’t be fair. Renzo suffered for what he did; Nino should too. He remembered Mamma Rosa’s warnings, that the things people did would come back to haunt them. Nino would pay the price now. 

A car pulled into the driveway. He sat up straight and gripped the bat.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Eileen Granfors, The IAN Interview




IAN. Hi Eileen. Please tell us about your latest book.
EG. Stairs of Sand is a novel about a strict mother, Jolene, and her free-spirited daughter. Suzanne, who now calls herself Zoozle. The daughter is a dancer, and she has gained success as a university professor of dance. But she feels empty inside. She undergoes a late stage of rebelliousness, getting involved with drugs and a friend who is willing to try anything, especially if it’s illegal. Zoozle tries to find her way back to a self that is truly her, not an imitation of her mother or this drugged-out zombie she has become. She is helped by a therapy dog and his owner, Phllip McKillop, her good Grandpa Joe, and a whole team of new friends from Grandpa’s hospice. This is a work of hope and strength and the emotional ties that bind us to family.


IAN. How long did it take to write Stairs of Sand?
EG. This was the first book I tried to write in 2006. I found it difficult to tell the story through a single point of view and put it away while I wrote other things, including a first novel, Some Rivers End on the Day of the Dead, a YA. Once I decided on using two narrators in Stairs, it took another two years to finalize the book.

IAN. What inspired you to write Stairs of Sand?
EG.  The struggles of parents around me as well as my own struggles to be a better parent to a new generation of kids who don’t buy “be seen and not heard” influenced me to try to tell Zoozle and Jolene’s story.

IAN. Talk about the writing process. 
EG.  I write every morning from 8:30 to noon. I walk my dogs first, thinking about what I am going to write.

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft? 
EG. I have learned to have an idea of where the book is going but to write in a free-flowing manner. If I don’t like something later, I cut it and put it into a file for another use.

IAN. How is your book different from others in your genre?
EG. Unlike a lot of women’s fiction, this book does not center on shopping, baking, or homemaking. It focuses on the careers these women have chosen and the anguish that secrets between them cause. Most families don’t have the communication skills they need in house. They may have them at work or school, but not in their most beloved relationships.

IAN. Is your book published in print, e-book or both?
EG. Both!

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
EG. As my reviews show, most readers come away with the certainty that honesty in family is important and that kids are not a reflection of their parents’ deepest wishes. That child is going to grow up to become somebody the parent may never have expected to meet. Freedom to be yourself and be loved unconditionally for yourself is a huge theme in the book.

IAN. Where can we go to buy Stairs of Sand?
EG. My book is available on Amazon. I also have my own web site, http://www.authoreileengranfors.blogspot.com
The Independent Authors Network and the World Lit Café are also helping to get the word out on Stairs of Sand.

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone?
EG. Stairs of Sand is a stand alone title. I have just completed Sydney’s Story, a prequel to A Tale of Two Cities. I am very excited to have finished this book, which has been a niggling idea for thirty years!

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
EG. I have had a lot of fun making trailers for my books. Here is the link for the trailer to Stairs of Sand. 

I have a review web site for other authors’ books. I call it Word Joy.
http://www.eileengranfors.blogspot.com   Even though I am a writer, I read like a fiend too.

IAN. When did you decide to write?
EG. I found that writing helped me through the grief of my mother’s death. After the summer of 2001, I decided I would write novels once I retired from teaching.

IAN. Who is your favorite character in Stairs of Sand?
EG. This is a really difficult question because I love so many of the characters. Zoozle’s strength astounds me, her friend Chloris gives such loving advice and is a good role model, and Grandpa Joe supports his granddaughter with unconditional love. Grandpa is pretty funny, so my final vote goes to Grandpa Joe.

IAN. This book is about family. Is it a true story?
EG. All stories are based in the author’s perception of truth. But the adventures of Zoozle and her mother are based only on my imagination.

Stairs of Sand by Eileen Granfors
272 pages
Women’s fiction

         Chapter 1: Zoozle 

      The Whidbey-Port Townsend ferry carries few passengers this late on a July night. The nearly empty ferry mimics my completely empty me. I lost my job last week, and everything else before that. 
    I’d meditate, but Mel is singing, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” trying too hard to make me laugh. She’s serious about us making some Internet porn for cash, pronounced with a long a. I’ve told her no way a million times, that I’d rather be homeless and starving or dead.
    A crewman walks by, giving us a lecherous leer, calling out, “Hey, you girls. Haven’t you heard of curfew?” We’re both in our late twenties, and we both look twelve. Mel flips him off and slides closer to me. I push her away. 
   “Zooz, girl, I’m freezing,” she says. As one, we look at her feet in terry-cloth flip flops. She moves over and touches the hollow in my throat, right where a lump of misery is clogged. She tries to zip my windbreaker across my tank top. “You feel like ice. Let’s sit in the car. Quit trying to be Wonder Woman.” That’s how I mock my mom’s self-perception of perfection. I shake my head.
    “Take the keys. Get warm. I need the air.”           
   Mel wanders back and huddles in the car. I pass by her as I walk to the ferry boat’s stern, riding low to the water. Mel has wrapped a blanket across her bony shoulders, head tucked into her chest and the blanket is up like a hoodie. She often looks vulnerable, like someone I should protect. It took me a while to learn that was her act. Everybody acts a role. I’m totally tired of mine, and it’s only been 168 hours since I was atop a shining star, dance teacher at Port Townsend University, now placed on leave,  basically code for fired.

    I study the waves, watching the ferry’s wake in the darkness.  That’s like me, one bubble among millions. My heart aches more because it’s a foggy night, and I can’t see that far ahead. I love our rare sunny days in Washington. If I close my eyes on a sunny day, I can make myself believe I’m still a little kid, surfing in California with my Grandpa Joe.
    As the ferry chugs into the channel, a tall, skinny, old man in a tweed sports coat comes to stand near me. His Newfoundland retriever, huge, black and white and unbelievably furry, sits between us, wearing a pink halter. “Guardian Angels” is scripted across the back.
     Lately, I don’t much talk except to Mel. I make an exception since he has a dog. “May I pet your dog?” I ask him.
     “We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Jacques?”  He rubs his dog behind the ears. 
     I sink to my knees to pet the dog, who is tall enough to look me in the eyes when I do. His gaze is direct and soft with affection. Though he’s wet in the misty air, it feels wonderful to put my head on his. My heart uncurls one nanometer.
     “Hi Jacques,” I say.  Jacques smiles. He licks my face, my new short hair, spiky with hair gel. I push my hair with my fingers, then rub the dog’s slobber and my hair gel on my jeans, and I smile back.
   “His full name is Frère Jacques.  But we cut it short.” The old man grins with the pride of a father. “I’m Phillip McKillop.” He takes off his hat and sweeps it across his heart. 
   I scratch the dog some more. “Hello, Phillip. I’m Suzann, Suzann Zimmerman.” I don’t know why I don’t tell him Zoozle. “I used to have a dog, a little guy, part spaniel, part Pomeranian.  My ex has him now.” Javier has Boo, Javier has a house, Javier has a new life.  Me, I’ve got Mel. I’ve got a roof over my head with Big Daddy, Mel’s meth-making friend, which was cool until I stopped doing meth. Now, I wouldn’t want a dog around Big Daddy. I don’t want me around Big Daddy. 
     “Bye Phillip.  Bye, Jacques.” Holding the dog has tightened the knot in my throat. I can’t swallow it down. Despair claws with more powerful digs into my stomach. I look off into the dark night, back towards the car where Mel is tracing patterns on the fogged windows. What escape route should I take from this huge mess I’ve made? I can’t run home again. My mom wouldn’t want me there and she won’t come here, she’s made that clear enough. Life with Mel is all I’ve got, and now I am certain I don’t want that either.
     I am through with do over’s.
   I walk to the other side of the boat, away from the crewman and Mr. McKillop. I unzip my boots, aligning them underneath the life preserver ring. The boots are the right size for Mel. 
    I clamber over the chain guard and dive away from the ferry into the sea.
    The cold water burns my skin, and numbness makes my body feel as heavy as my wet clothes. The current is strong, pulling me south. My ribs hurt from where I hit the water so flat, and it’s hard to lift my arms.  It’s even harder to keep my head up with the chop of the waves. I sink and swallow water. Floundering, I pop back up again. In the distance, there’s the ferry.
     Then, I see Jacques. He has followed my leap and is paddling towards me, maybe ten yards away.  
   I sink again, the waves and tide working together to push me under.  Something in me tries to begin swimming towards him, as if I am suddenly awake. I remember it’s better to lean back to float and conserve my strength against the cold. I’m grabbed by the neck of my windbreaker. It’s Jacques!  I reach for his vest straps, and he pulls me with sure, steady strength against the current. 

Amazon

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Frederick Lee Brooke: The IAN Interview

Born and raised in the Chicago area, Frederick Lee Brooke graduated from Amherst College and studied writing at the University of Montana. He has worked as an English teacher, language school manager and small business owner. Having lived in Germany, France and Switzerland, he has also travelled extensively in Italy, where much of the action of the second book in the Annie Ogden Mystery series, Zombie Candy, takes place. The first book in the Annie Ogden series, Doing Max Vinyl, appeared in 2011 to wide acclaim. Currently Frederick Lee Brooke is working on the last book in the series of Annie Ogden Mysteries, due at the end of 2012 or early 2013. 


IAN. Please tell us about your latest book.

FLB. Zombie Candy (Annie Ogden Mystery #2)

You know early on, from the color of the inappropriate bra in the opening scene, that Zombie Candy is going to be a black comedy. Most people could sympathize with the male obsession for sex and zombie movies, but who would put up with a husband who doused every dish with cilantro? 

Frederick Lee Brooke serves up another literary treat with this bizarre and comical tale of love and betrayal. Candace Roach enlists her best friend Annie Ogden (our favorite sleuth from Doing Max Vinyl) to find out what her husband is really up to on his weekly business trips – but their home-cooked aversion therapy gets out of hand and hurtles along an astonishing highway of the undead.

Weaving elements of mystery, horror and romance in a story that starts in Chicago and ends in a quaint medieval town in sun-drenched Tuscany, Zombie Candy transcends any single genre. 

Home for good from Iraq but unsure about her future, Annie Ogden isn't your typical woman sleuth. Her best friend, Candace Roach – gourmet cooking instructor, owner of a house in Tuscany – isn't your typical wronged woman either. Candace teaches gourmet cooking, and loves nothing more than orchestrating a four-course meal full of flavorful surprises and artistic touches. A selection of her recipes is found in an appendix to the book.

But with each shocking discovery in the investigation of her husband, the friendship between Candace and Annie is further put to the test. Candace ultimately takes matters into her own hands and, in an elaborate ruse, stages a nightmarish zombie drama in which her husband plays the starring role. 

In the words of Emma Calin, author of Knockout, A Passionate Police Romance: "This book has all the ingredients of a perfect noir comedy – well formed characters, international locations,  a fast moving plot with no brakes, and of course zombies. Revenge is a dish best served cold – and as a betrayed wife, master chef and cookery instructor, Candace cooks up the perfect recipe for the ultimate gazpacho."

IAN. How long did it take to write Zombie Candy?
FLB. This book took almost a year to write. But only because I had to try all the recipes myself and make sure they worked.

IAN. What inspired you to write Zombie Candy?
FLB. A famous golfer was chased out of the house by his golf club wielding wife in the middle of the night. She smashed in a couple of windows in his car with the sex-iron, and he smashed into a fire hydrant near their house. This made the news. I got to thinking, how many men have been chased out of the house by an irate wife? How many of them nearly get killed in the process? 

But the part that interested me the most was imagining what must go through the mind of the wronged woman. After all, the news comes as a total shock, and she's still in love with him. Yet she wants to kill him. I thought it would be interesting to explore the evolution of the thought processes of an intelligent woman in that situation. I thought this also had comic potential.

IAN. Talk about the writing process. 
FLB. I write best in the morning, but with the full schedule I have I can't be choosy. There are days when I write all day and then some more in the evening. 

For me, the first draft takes up maximum 10% of the writing time, including the planning. The other 90% is revision. I find that with planning and first draft, I need total quiet. This is a critical stage. Once the first draft is done and I go into the long, repetitive revision stage, it doesn't bother me to have to get up and cook dinner for the family, or help someone with his homework, or just have some noise in the background.

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft? 
FLB. I don't like outlines, but I make a plan with all the main characters and some notions about plot. I revise the plan quite a few times before I actually start writing the first draft. I want to have a fairly robust plan before I commit to actually writing dialogue and letting the characters interact with each other. That being said, once I get to that point, strange things can happen. And then I find it's really important not to stick to the plan slavishly.

Then again, what do I know?  Zombie Candy is only my second book!

IAN. How is your book different from others in your genre?
FLB. Annie Ogden isn't a real sleuth, and my books only fit loosely in the Mystery genre. I like reading traditional mysteries; I'm just not sure I'll ever write one. So Zombie Candy, just like Doing Max Vinyl before it, transcends different genres. There are elements of mystery in it, but also of course horror, and romance as well. I think fans of all three of those genres will love Zombie Candy.

IAN. Is your Zombie Candy published in print, e-book or both?
FLB. It's coming out as an e-book now, in early May, and by early June will also be available in print.

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
FLB. A good laugh. A strong attraction to Annie Ogden and Candace Roach as well as several other characters. Ideas about how friends can best show their love and support when someone has a desperate need.

IAN. Where can we go to buy Zombie Candy?
FLB. Only Amazon in the early stages.

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone?
FLB. My next book will be the third Annie Ogden Mystery, and will wrap up the series. I can tell you right now, I will truly miss Annie.

IAN. Do you think Zombie Candy will appeal to true zombie fans? 
FLB. What's a true zombie fan? I don't want to give anything away, but any active zombie fan who participates in zombie walks, goes to festivals, etc. will love Zombie Candy. That being said, this is a book that has elements of mystery, horror and romance all in one. It had quite a few early readers, fans of all different genres, and the consensus is that it really works.

IAN. The book contains some of Candace's favorite recipes. Why? 
FLB. I confess, I love to cook, and it's such an important part of my life, it just felt natural to have Candace want to share her recipes. We are all vulnerable to being attacked through our taste buds. I like reading about cooking, and I love watching cooking shows on TV. I feel like I'm learning something and tasting it at the same time. It felt right for this to be really important for Candace. At the same time, her husband Larry is so incredibly lacking in appreciation of her talents, not just the cooking itself, but organizing complex meals and directing the preparation of them by her class of twelve people. These are amazing skills, and Larry is blind to them. I thought marriages are sometimes like that, where people get to a point where they are totally ignorant of what their partner is great at.

IAN. Zombie Candy is about cheating husbands, but it's also about something else, isn't it? 
FLB. Yes, it's really about friendship. Candace's best friend going back to college days is Annie Ogden, and Annie now has her PI license, so Candace asks her best friend to look into Larry's activities. This unexpectedly causes a big strain in their friendship, for different reasons. It awakens old demons and both Annie and Candace have to deal with these. Will their friendship survive the test? What is friendship really about? Annie and Candace are the perfect pair to explore those questions.

IAN. After starting out in Chicago, why did you decide to set the story in Tuscany? 
FLB. I've been fortunate enough to travel to Italy forty or fifty times in my life, sometimes for a two-week vacation, sometimes just for a very short trip. I absolutely love it there, from the food to the language to the beauty of the countryside and the architecture. In Zombie Candy, Candace realizes at a certain point that she has to get Larry out of his comfort zone. This is a guy who travelled all over the country every week for his work, and cheated on Candace with waitresses, flight attendants, whoever. He can adapt just about anywhere. But in Tuscany Larry discovers two things: 1) it's not so easy to find a willing waitress or flight attendant to spend the night with him; and 2) there are zombies here. 

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
FLB. I am very happy to connect with readers wherever they like:

email:  info@frederickleebrooke.com

Twitter: @frederickbrooke








Zombie Candy (Annie Ogden Mystery #2) by Frederick Lee Brooke
250 pages
Mystery / Horror / Romance


    They leave the crowd and head into the vineyard, walking under an arbor as if down an aisle. The ground is dry and her heels don’t even sink into the hard grass. She has her little black party purse with its long strap over the opposite shoulder. Giancarlo's hand warms a spot on the small of her back. 
     “I know that you are from Chicago, and you are studying the history of art at the University in Siena for one semester, and you are spending the weekends in Monte Chianti in your uncle’s house.”
     “Right on three counts.”
    “I am sorry he died,” Giancarlo says. “I did not know him. But my Uncle Massimo says he was a wonderful person. Very cultured and kind.”
     “Is that so unusual for an American?”
    “It is unusual for any person to be cultured and kind, regardless of their nationality. I am sure my uncle would say so. Besides, I have not known many Americans. And I have never met one who could speak Italian like you.”
      “I spent a few summers here when I was a young girl.”
     “How come we never met before this?”
He sounds like he’s just thinking aloud. In any case, she has no answer for a question like that. Anyone can see where this conversation is headed. Does Giancarlo have a girlfriend? Is he going to ask about her status? 
They come out from under the arbor and the night sky opens above them like a canvas, filled with stars and the Milky Way, and the bright moon. With the moon and all those millions of stars reflecting off Giancarlo’s white shirt, the vineyard is light as day.
     “I always knew I wanted to study here. It’s like a second home, even if my parents don’t like it.”
     “Why don’t they like it?”
    “Well, my mom likes it. My uncle and my dad didn’t get along. So it’s like my uncle lives here in exile. But whatever happened between them means nothing to me.”
    “It's a pity when things like that happen in families. So when the semester is over you’re probably going to go straight home again, and we’ll never see you again, right?”
He obviously means to say, “I’ll never see you again.” She’s getting all these signals. How Giancarlo can be interested in her she cannot imagine, but it’s unmistakable. It feels wonderful.
    “I’m not sure,” she says. You don’t want to lead a man on, tell him lies, get his hopes up. On the other hand, anything can happen. She doesn’t want to kill his hopes either.
    As long as he doesn’t ask, she decides to say nothing. Why should she? Larry is far away. Although they’re committed to each other, they aren’t married. She’s only nineteen. She’s a junior in college, and she still has time to live a little, thank you.
    As if he can read her mind, Giancarlo doesn’t ask. Maybe he assumes the worst and doesn’t want to know. Maybe he just wants to take a chance.
   They walk to the end of the vineyard, where there’s a low stone wall, beyond which she can see rows of fruit trees on the next property. The music has started again but it’s so far away she can barely hear it. A dog barks. Giancarlo holds her hand. When she looks up, he’s looking into her eyes. He has beautiful gray-blue eyes like none she’s ever seen before. His broad shoulders fill the navy jacket as his other hand comes up to her shoulder, then slips to the back of her neck, pulling her in ever so gently. His lips come closer as she reaches up. 
    Their lips meet, and her insides flood with a warm gushing feeling, like golden waterfalls. Like waterfalls of golden sunshine, the Tuscan sunshine over the fields, with the mice hiding in the grass and the lines of cypress trees in the distance, and shadows lengthening beside the farmhouses. This young Italian man is kissing her. In his uncle’s vineyard, at his cousin’s wedding. They’ve just met. Out of all his dancing partners, she is the one. Then their tongues touch, and a jolt of electricity shoots through her, sending a warm, steady current straight to her womanly center. She feels his breathing. She presses one hand to his heart, just to feel the pounding, to make sure this isn’t a dream. He’s real, all right. 
    She hasn’t kissed another boy besides Larry in almost two years. She never wants it to stop. 


Saturday, April 28, 2012

Rob Tiffany: The IAN Interview



A bestselling author of fiction and non-fiction books, Rob Tiffany has spent the last decade combining his military past with his high-tech present to take readers from the depths of the ocean to the world of mobile apps. Rob served with the Navy SEALs on a special ops delivery vehicle and patrolled the seas on a Trident submarine. As an Architect at the world’s largest software company, he’s in-demand as an advisor to executives and a speaker at conferences all over the world. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and three kids.



IAN. Please tell us about your latest book.
RT. My book is a 30,000-word, middle-grade/YA adventure novel – with fantastical elements - called Submarine Warriors > The Enemy Beneath.  The fathers of twelve year-old Caroline Connery, Nick Wyatt, and their friends mysteriously disappear during a top-secret submarine mission. Not long after, Caroline receives a secret text message revealing the government’s story that their fathers died in an accident was actually a cover-up. The two kids enlist the help of Caroline’s grandfather – a retired Navy Admiral - and their friends to rescue all of the dads. A daring submarine theft results in the entire Pacific fleet chasing down the children with orders to sink them on sight. Upon finding their fathers, Caroline and Nick are confronted by an even greater terror when they come face to face with the Underworlders, a previously unknown species living beneath the ocean floor that are bent on the complete annihilation of mankind.

IAN. How long did it take to write Submarine Warriors?
RT. I spent the past 4 years working part-time, off and on, whenever I could spare a free moment.

IAN. What inspired you to write the book?
RT. Believe it or not, it was during a large family gathering where everyone had to perform, or otherwise show off a particular talent.  While others sang, danced, performed skits, or told jokes, I quickly wrote the original premise for the novel in 20 or so minutes.  I stood up and read the beginnings of what would become Submarine Warriors to the amazement of everyone in the room.  I won the contest and had siblings, cousins, parents, nieces, nephews urging me to turn it into a book. 

IAN. Talk about the writing process. 
RT. My “day job” in the computer business keeps me busy with a heavy travel schedule around the world.  It’s safe to say that I stole time to write the book on airplanes and in hotel rooms.  I never wrote in the morning because my brain just doesn’t function during that time of the day.  I’m also happy to say that I wrote some of it sitting outside at café’s in Paris.

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft? 
RT. It was actually a combination of both.  I knew the initiating conflict and outlined high-level bullet points for many of the events in the book.  Sometimes I sat down intending to outline and would suddenly find myself getting carried away writing content.  I was a very unorthodox approach to say the least.

IAN. How is your book different from others in your genre?
RT. While my book targets tweens and teens like the Hunger Games, Harry Potter, and Percy Jackson, it brings a level of military realism that you don’t see in other action/adventure novels in this category.  Many readers have found the world of submarines and Navy SEALs I’ve created to be reminiscent of Tom Clancy novels.  Spy Kids meets The Hunt for Red October.

IAN. Is Submarine Warriors published in print, e-book or both?
RT. Yes, it’s published in print and the e-book version targets the Kindle and Nook.

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading Submarine Warriors?
RT. I want my young readers to know that with resourcefulness, persistence, teamwork, and courage, they can accomplish anything.  I want them to reflect on the power of being bold.

IAN. Where can we go to buy your book?
RT. Amazon.com will get you the paperback and Kindle versions.  A trip to BN.com will also get you the paperback as well as a version for the Nook.

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone?
RT. I am currently working feverishly on the sequel.  I’m constantly asked when the next book is coming out by the young adults who just finished reading my book.  Needless to say, I won’t have the luxury of taking four years to write the next installment. The new war with the Underworlders is definitely a multi-book affair.  

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
RT. Readers can learn all about the world of the Submarine Warriors at http://submarinewarriors.com.  It includes maps of where the adventure takes place, information about the characters, and volumes of educational information about all things related to submarines and ocean.  
The Submarine Warriors Facebook page can be found at http://facebook.com/submarinewarriors My personal blog is http://robtiffany.com and you can follow me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/robtiffany

IAN. How did you learn so much about the workings of submarines?
RT. I’m asked this question a lot.  Most people assume I did intensive research to gain the depth of knowledge of submarines that I write about in my book.  I actually served on two different submarines when I was in the US Navy.  My first sub was part of SOCOM and was a SEAL Team Delivery Vehicle used for special ops which was very exciting.  The second sub I served on was a Trident ballistic missile submarine where we spent our time waiting for a special message from the President. This is a message you never want to receive.

IAN. How did you ensure that the dialog in your novel had the right “voice” for young readers?
RT. I have the three kids at home and all of them are tweens or teens.  As I would write new chapters, I would often read passages to my children as bedtime stories.  My kid’s friends would also participate in some of my readings and provided lots of feedback on what they liked and what they thought I should change.  This constant feedback loop with my target audience ensured that the book never sounded like an adult pretending to be a teenager.

Submarine Warriors > The Enemy Beneath by Rob Tiffany
143 pages
Action/Adventure
Hood Canal Press



       Just as the Omaha Beach was about to land on the ocean floor, the strange radar dish reversed its magnetic beam and pushed the DSRV toward the pyramid. The sub eventually settled down next to the glowing structure with its occupants shrouded in darkness, due to the electrical disruption from the magnetic beam.

An accordion-like tube extended from near the tip of the crystal pyramid. It reached out to the Omaha Beach, arched over the top, and sealed itself to the upper escape hatch. The sailors onboard watched in disbelief as the hatch slowly opened and an infrared light washed into the main compartment. Several humanoid creatures dropped through the open hatch and landed on the main deck with a thud.
They looked like astronauts in black, spacesuit-like outfits and helmets. Peering out at the sailors from behind the curved, glass face-shields were ultraviolet, glowing eyes.  

This turn of events quickly put the crew of the Omaha Beach on the defensive and everyone took slow steps backwards away from the intruders.

“This was definitely not in the Navy recruiting brochure when I signed up.” A nervous Petty Officer Love tried to make light of this new situation.

“I think we just made first contact with an Alien civilization,” added the Weaps.

“If you want to live, you’ll come with us and you won’t try anything stupid,” one of the strange humanoids announced to the group.

“I guess they don’t come in peace,” uttered Petty Officer Grant.

Without warning, the Pilot pushed through the group towards the Aliens. “I don’t take orders from freaks like you!” shouted the Pilot. He hit one of the creatures over the head with a fire extinguisher, knocking it to the ground.

Without skipping a beat, one of the other humanoid creatures reached out and clutched the Pilot’s face with its hand. Intense heat shot out from its fingers and seared his skin.  

The Pilot screamed in anguish as his face began to burn.  

“You’re killing him!” the Captain shouted.  “Stop, and we’ll do what you ask.”

“It’s a little late for that, Overworlder.” The creature released his grip and the Pilot’s lifeless body collapsed to the deck. “Consider yourself warned.  Now get moving!”

“Oh my God, he’s dead.” The Weaps picked up the smoldering remains of the Pilot. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“Oh, you will,” remarked one of the creatures with an outstretched hand.

The Weaps suddenly felt an invisible burning sensation, causing him to drop the Pilot on the deck. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll do what you want,” the sunburned Weaps muttered to the creatures.

The terrified crew climbed out of the upper hatch, and the creatures forced the sailors through a translucent tube into an opening in the pyramid.  After walking down a short corridor, the sailors were pushed into an airtight compartment and sealed inside. Everywhere they looked, they saw the red glow of infrared lights being used for illumination. With the crewmembers locked in their new underwater prison, the humanoids removed their suits and helmets to reveal their bald heads, hairless bodies and translucent skin. 

“You’re being quarantined in this containment cell to ensure we don’t become infected by your Overworlder diseases,” barked one of the humanoid creatures.

“Who are you and what right do you have to capture our sub and hold us prisoner?” Captain Connery shouted.

“We have every right, Overworlder scum!” A new creature with an ancient Egyptian headdress emerged from the shadows. “Did you think you were the only intelligent life on this planet? Did you really think you had this whole place to yourselves? We’ve lived under the continents and the ocean floor for centuries. We were once like you until our ancestors were pulled underground several millennia ago when the waves of the Red Sea crashed in all around them. They believed they had descended into Hell. But our surviving forefathers learned how to thrive deep beneath the Earth’s surface. Our advanced race adapted to this subterranean world in a way that none of the Earth’s other primitive cultures ever could. Over the centuries, our bodies and eyes evolved to better suit our underground surroundings. Constant exposure to radioactive elements has mutated our genes so that we have the power to project heat from our hands. Today, we are one billion strong and we control the world beneath your feet!”

“Why show yourselves now, and why did you sink the cruise ship and kill all those innocent people?” Captain Connery retorted.

“That’s simple,” replied the Underworlder. “Your technology is becoming advanced enough to threaten our civilization. You may not realize it, but we’ve been closely monitoring you for the last hundred years. We’ve tapped your undersea phone lines and fiber optic cables. We’ve watched you create great societies and technologies, only to destroy them with greater and greater ferocity. I only wish your barbaric cultures would have wiped each other out by now. Like some kind of runaway virus, you keep multiplying and consuming all the Earth’s resources. Your world and ours are linked by a few miles of rock and ocean and we want those resources for ourselves. To that end, we’ve decided that your civilization has forfeited its right to exist on this planet. Consider the dead Overworlders on the cruise ship your first casualties in this new war. But for now, I have something different in mind for you.”

“Commander, begin the wrapping process on the prisoners!”


Sunday, April 15, 2012

Penny Childs The IAN Interview

Penny Childs. Besides riding horses, writing is one of my very favorite things to do. I kid about the people in my head, but they really are in there! They are the reason I may have a faraway look in my eyes when someone is trying to talk to me once in a while. They are also the reason I get asked a lot, “Hey, are you even listening to me?” Well, in all honesty I probably wasn’t listening to you. Sorry, chances are good I was working out a scene between characters in my head.

I’ve been writing since I was a kid and I still have my first finished book stashed away, which I wrote when I was 13. It is titled Sundown and is about a kid and her horse. It has a hand drawn cover and everything. You will thank me to never, ever, let it see publication…. They say practice makes perfect. Well that particular little gem was one of my first practice sessions.

These days I lean toward more adult themes such as paranormal suspense and romance, with a thriller and a mystery thrown in just to spice things up.
I live in Michigan with my husband Dennis on ten acres my family lovingly refers to as The Petting Zoo.


IAN. Please tell us about your latest book.

PC. There’s Always Tomorrow is the second book in the Never Say Goodbye Series. It brings back Mel and Trevor, the two main characters from the first book, Farewell to Goodbye. I had so much fun with Mel and Trevor not getting along in Farewell that I just had to do it again. When Mel loses her memory in a plane crash the killer they were after turns the tables on her and Trevor. He convinces Mel he is her husband and Trevor is the enemy.
The killer is playing a dangerous game and he loves it. He will try to drive a wedge between Mel and Trevor and draw her to him for the kill.

IAN. How long did it take to write There’s Always Tomorrow?
PC. It took about two months to get the 1st draft completed.

IAN. What inspired you to write There’s Always Tomorrow?
PC. I love the way Mel and Trevor love each other. I also love the way they argue. They’re fun to write about. Plus they still had a lot to do and they wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote their new adventure.

IAN. Talk about the writing process.
PC. I mainly write in the afternoon when I get home from work. I am the only one there and it is quiet (except for my dogs once in a while). On the weekends I love to get up and write with a cup of coffee before the rest of the house is up and around.

IAN. Did you use an outline or do you just wing the first draft?
PC. I’ve tried to use outlines but I can never stick to them. So I just wing it. Sometimes I even surprise myself with the direction the book takes.

IAN. How is There’s Always Tomorrow different from others in your genre?
PC. I’d love to say I’m the only one that’s ever written a book like this one, but that would be a lie. I do think it is well written and a fun read.

IAN. Is your book published in print, e-book or both?
PC. Just e-book.

IAN. What do you hope your readers come away with after reading There’s Always Tomorrow?
PC. I hope it will give the reader a little getaway from reality and will allow them to experience something different through my characters.

IAN. Where can we go to buy your books?
A. amazon.com

IAN. Tell us about your next book or a work in progress. Is it a sequel or a stand alone?
PC. I am working on a paranormal/suspense/romance titled I Remember Everything. It is the third book in my Lost Loves Series and centers around Tommy Logan and his lost love, Rachel. They were torn apart due to circumstances beyond their control but will be reunited, whether they like it or not. It is currently in edit and I hope to publish in May of 2012.

IAN. Any other links or info you'd like to share?
PC. My facebook page is: facebook.com/PennyChildsAuthorSite
My Amazon Author Central Page is: amazon.com/author/pennychilds


There’s Always Tomorrow by Penny Childs
Paranormal Suspense



“I’ll bet you bled beautifully,” David told Mel, looking across the aisle of the jet at her.
Trevor leaned around Mel and glared at him. “I told you to shut up. I meant it.” They were taking him back to California, charged with five murders. He was making a point of being as annoying as possible, making Trevor regret not letting Wayne and Lee bring him back.
“What was it like, finding her like that, Agent Giles? The woman you love with a madman perched atop her. It must have been an incredible sight.”
“I really want to shoot him,” Trevor told Mel, who was leaned back in her seat, eyes closed. Planes lulled her to sleep. “Or maybe a gag.”
“Did it hurt, Melanie? When he cut you?”
Trevor saw Mel’s lip twitch, but other than that she ignored Mercer.
“Were you afraid, or had you made your peace?” He smiled at her. “No, I think you were probably very afraid of dying. You were still young, still had so much to live for. You were in love and had a budding career. You would have clung to life with all your might.”
“Shoot him,” Mel muttered to Trevor without opening her eyes. There was no way she was going to get a decent nap in if he wouldn’t shut up.
“These are the questions I strive to find answers for.”
Now Mel did open her eyes and look over at him. “No, you’re just a wack job who gets off on killing women who can’t defend themselves. You don’t care how they feel about it. Give me a break.” She tilted her head back again and closed her eyes.
“I’m not as one dimensional as you think I am.”
“Tell it to the judge, ‘cause I don’t care.” Mel was thinking about moving to the back of the jet so she could catch a nap. She didn’t think it would be fair to desert Trevor though.
“Don’t you dare,” Trevor said, catching her thought loud and clear.
“For better or worse my ass,” she teased.
“My lawyers are the best money can buy. I won’t see one day of prison.”
“Uh, huh.”
“I should have gotten drunk at the airport bar,” Mel grumbled.