An Interview with author Michael Embry

Michael's favorite quote:
"The art of writing is the art
of discovering what you believe."
-- Gustave Flaubert

Author's website
Author's Blog
Author on FaceBook
Twitter: @MichaelEmbry


When did you start fiction writing and what genre(s) do you like to write?

I participated in a creative writing conference in 1974 but it took me another 25 years to write my first novel, "The Touch." I've since written eight more novels, falling under contemporary mainstream, murder mystery, young adult, and boomer lit genres. I like variety in reading and writing.

Why this/these genre(s)? What attracts you to them?

These genres resonate with me. I enjoy probing the thoughts and actions of characters as they unfold in my stories. My last three novels have been in the boomer lit genre, which I plan to continue because it allows me to examine my amazing generation.

Generally speaking, what is the driving force behind your characters?

The driving force is confronting unforeseen problems and trying to make sense out of everything that is happening around them. Life isn't easy as we all deal with numerous pitfalls, disappointments, and heartbreaks.

Have any of your characters changed in a dramatic way from what you imagined
at the start during the writing process?

I would say most of the characters have grown and gained courage along the way. I want my characters to come across as real and have strengths and weaknesses that are relatable to readers.

What do you find the most difficult in finishing a story and approximately how long does it take for you to write a story?

It would be wrapping up loose ends, and in writing a series, leaving a few things that will bring readers back for the next book. It generally takes me from six to twelve weeks to write the first draft, then I go through about ten rewrites before I'm ninety-nine percent satisfied with the story (are authors ever totally satisfied?). I then rely on my editor for advice on improving the novel.

 

Are there other types of writing you do such as non-fiction, or short
fiction?

I've written three non-fiction sports books (I was a sportswriter years ago) and one short-story collection. Although I've been approached, I doubt if I write any more non-fiction. However, I do plan to write another collection of short stories.

Has your writing affected you in any way and what would you recommend to
someone wanting to start writing fiction?

I believe writing helps me gain a better understanding of myself and others as I explore different areas of life. As for advice about writing fiction, I would recommend that the person read fiction, especially in the genre(s) they intend to write, and to read primers on fiction writing such as Jack M. Bickham's "The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (And How to Avoid Them)." I'd also suggest joining local writing groups, attending writing events, and getting to know other authors. Writing is a lifelong learning experience but it's necessary to learn the basics.

Read an excerpt of Michael Embry's latest release "New Horizons" (Release date: May 1, 2019)

An Interview with author Richard Whitten Barnes

Author Richard Barnes

Author's website

Why did you start fiction writing and what genre(s) do you like to write?

I took a night class. I was asked to join writers group and before long I had a half dozen stories. I was encouraged by the group to turn one of my stories into a book which evolved into a WWII historical fiction. I discovered that I really enjoy doing the research. Then, I had an idea for a mystery and wrote two of them before being published by Wings ePress. Since then, I go back-and-forth between the two genres.

I recently wrote MEDALLION, the story of a Norwegian commando and a young woman; an American Flyer working for the British during the second world war.
My next book is the fifth in a series. My heroine, Andy Blake, is a Canadian Provincial Police detective. STEEL TOWN is a story about the interdiction of opioids in the steel city of Sault Ste. Marie Ontario. As usual, Andy has to balance her love life and the job of catching the bad guys.

Why this/these genres? What attracts you to them?

Writing mysteries is a challenge. First you have to have a story that is interesting for the reader. Most importantly for me is crafting a good ending. I like one that is a surprise and satisfying for the reader.
Writing Historical Fiction gives me the opportunity to satisfy my own curiosity about history and my desire to put words on paper, simultaneously.

Generally speaking, what is the driving force behind your characters? Have any of your characters changed in dramatic way from what you imagined at the start during the writing process?

I would have to half of the driving force behind my characters is of their own volition. I have had characters completely change there persona by the end of the book. In one of my books the character I had meant to be a hero turned out to be the villain. There is no question, my characters have their own mind in many respects.

What do you find the most difficult in finishing a story and approximately how long does it take for you to write a story?

I have been writing since 2009, and I am just publishing my 11th book this coming June. So, a book every year has been the norm. In every case, finishing the story is the biggest challenge. I hate it when a book just stops, as if the author ran out of ideas. I enjoy reading a book that has a thoughtful ending whether that is a surprise, or just a good feeling. Achieving this is a significant challenge.

Are there other types of writing you do such as non-fiction, or short fiction?

No, although I have thought about adding to my collection of short stories and publishing them as a group.

Has your writing affected you in any way and what would you recommend to someone wanting to start writing fiction?

Writing has almost become my raison d’être. There is not a day that goes by I am not thinking about a plot line or a character. I think one needs that kind of fire in the belly to be a good writer. Writing isn’t easy. My advice to someone thinking about doing this for a career would be to ask themselves if they have that kind of dedication.

Richard Whitten Barnes, author of Historical and Mystery fiction

Lost And Found

By H. Susan Shaw

The Finder's Series: Book 3

Mystery, 365 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

When her old friend asks Kate Tucker to find his sister, Kate tries to turn him down. Instead, she revisits an old love, enjoys visiting her friends, has a major race with her ex, spends too much time in the hospital, and solves the disappearance of the sister as well as the murders at a racetrack. Readers of the first two novels will not anticipate the ending of this one!

Excerpt:

I loathe being scared. Makes me feel like a big, fat, wuss. Fear and I fight as hard as I’d battle a Grizzly seeking lunch. Bear and fear, there’s a perfectly good reason those two words are similar; both critters will eat me alive.

When being attacked by either, I have the options of flight or fight. Flight feeds the enemy, be it bear or fear. Fight is the only response which provides a chance of survival with honor.

I knew this was going to be a long fight, and I meant to win. My only weapons were smarts and stubborns. So I marched onto the battlefield of a perfectly calm, charming motel in southern Maine. Came all the way from Pennsylvania to this grudge match; Kate Tucker versus the forces of evil and mean. A friend needed me to win a battle he couldn’t.

Gary Shriver wanted me to find his sister, Darla Twine. I’m a finder, so I reported for duty.

Reluctantly. I’d rather have hunted for the devil himself than Gary’s baby sister.

Such is the hazard of changing careers. A few years ago I was a simple repossessor. My finances, and some odd requests, forced me to expand to becoming a finder.

As my first client explained, to help me make the switch, “To repop a truck, you gotta find it, right? Right? First you find it? So tell me why, since I got green money, you can’t go find and repossess my tools the wife took off with? Huh? You know what welding stuff looks like, you know what she looks like. So, you find my stuff, you get it for me, and I give you cash.” Thus, I became a finder. I found the pawn shop. He proved his ownership of the equipment, then paid me an honest fee for an hour’s phone work. Often, it’s as easy as one: dial a couple of phone numbers. Two: ask a couple of questions. Three: collect a fee. Other times, not so much.

What Gary was asking was on the not-so-much side.

Darla was on my least-liked list. Her self-centered actions had disgusted me since she was a child. Darla’s history insisted she was missing because it suited her. I’d watched Gary grow up, and he was a good man and a good friend. So here I come, riding in like the white knight to the rescue.

Being a relatively sensible woman, I hadn’t just jumped in my car and headed into peril. Before I’d even responded to Gary, I’d checked the on-line issue of his local paper. Chills chased each other up and down my back when I saw headlines about a series of robberies at the Chadwick Downs horse racing track. The robberies had been capped by a double killing.

What I was searching for was in the paper also. Ed Tucker had been released from jail two weeks ago. Oh, hallelujah. An ex-husband with a grudge on the loose. He’d served his entire sentence, so there was no reason why he couldn’t go back to his hobbies; skirting the law and flaunting his defiance of it.

Bear or fear? I’d prefer the Grizzly, thank you. A more honest fight.

At my Saco destination, the Lester Motel, Shirley dashed out of the office to yank my door open and envelope me in a hug. “You drive right around to Number twenty-seven; it’s all ready for you. I have the keys right here!”

In my mirror, I saw Shirley hurrying as I parked in front of my cottage. It was right in the center of the complex. The safest location. From its blue-shuttered windows I could see the entire area. The few shrubs which grew close to the glistening white clapboards of the little house didn’t offer hiding places. I felt as insecure as if my temporary dwelling already sheltered an assassin. I’d get over it. I’d better, because for however long my stay, this was home base.

There was a surprise—a vase of flowers and a basket of fruit on the table. No card. I remembered what happened to Snow White. These perfect Red Delicious apples could be stand-ins for the one which knocked out the princess.

Before I had a chance to do more than point, Shirley said, “For you, of course. Gary dropped ‘em off when he paid the rent. He also left some papers on the coffee table. He said to tell you he’d be here around six to take you to dinner. Told me’n Charley to make you comfortable and keep you safe. As if we needed to be told! You workin’ with Gary or just visitin’ him and his kin?”

“Some of both, Shirley. Thanks for the heads-up about my dinner-date.” Message delivered, Shirley helped me rearrange the cottage to my satisfaction. Three windows and a large closet made the bigger bedroom the preferred sleeping room. Those windows were exactly why I didn’t intend to spend my nights there. Although it was daytime, we pulled the shades and drew the drapes. They would remain closed during my stay, even during cleaning.

The Black Cane

By Eileen Harris

Dowager Diaries: Book 1

Mystery, 355 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

Buy Link

The decision to help one small boy turns eight elderly women's lives upside-down.  Danger becomes a way of life.  If the women are going to save the boy and stay alive, they are going to have to use skills that have been dormant way too long.

Excerpt:

She'd walked almost to the end of the alley and could see that it dead-ended not far ahead before she heard the sound again. So she hadn't been mistaken. Peering behind dumpsters and walking carefully between splotches of gore she didn't want to identify, she made a beeline for the last dumpster. The sound had to be coming from there. Walking to the side of the dumpster and peering around to the back, it took her a moment to make out the small human form mixed in with the trash. Amelia was unable to tell if the figure was male or female, but she was certain it was a child. Holding out her hand, she said. “Come out here and let me take a look at you. Are you hurt or just scared?”

What emerged from the trash was a filthy boy about ten years old. He said, “I hope you have a plan for getting us out of here or else we're both dead.”

She was impressed by the lack of fear in the child's voice. It had been a long time since a youngster had treated her as a peer, and she was fascinated. She looked around for some viable means of escape, both to prove her worth to the small critic and because the noises she was hearing back at the entrance to the alley were alarming her. There were three or four delivery doors along the alley. Reading the names printed on the doors, she discovered that the closest one read Clothes Closet Basics. This was a name she recognized. She had purchased many items from them, and they knew her well. Taking the boy's hand and saying only, “Come,” she hurried to the door and turned the knob. It was locked, but as she stood trying to think what to do next, an employee she knew came barreling through the door with a huge stack of boxes for the dumpster. The collision knocked the girl on her rump and sent the boxes flying in all directions. Amelia only avoided falling with the help of her cane.

During this confusion, two men were working their way down the alley checking each dumpster. Amelia snatched up the boy, stuffed him in one of the boxes, and covered him with brown paper scraps from another box. She whispered, “Whatever happens, keep your mouth shut, and no snuffling.”

Amelia finally remembered that the employee's name was Melissa. By then she had dug herself out from under the boxes and dragged herself to her feet. She was so self-absorbed that she hadn't even noticed the boy. She said, “Mrs. Armstrong! What in the world are you doing back here?”

Amelia said, “It's a long story, but I seemed to have gotten turned around somehow. When I saw your sign on the door, I was so relieved that I tried to come in. I'm so sorry about the collision! Are you all right?”