Author Interview with Sherri Fulmer Moorer

Author of Blurry
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Why did you start fiction writing and what genre(s) do you like to write? 
I’ve always enjoyed writing, and fiction is a great, entertaining outlet. It gives you flexibility and freedom to create characters and plots that drive themes that go from entertainment to real-life application. I love reading, and understand that a good novel that speaks to your soul is powerful. The genres’ I write in now are science fiction and mystery/suspense. Blurry, my Wings novel, is a young adult murder mystery reminiscent of the teen mysteries of the early to mid-90’s.

Why this/these genre(s)? What attracts you to them? 
Mystery/suspense delves into the mystique of the human soul, and science fiction looks forward to future issues that you see with potential to develop into larger concerns. Both engage the imagination to spin out the countless “what if” scenarios that life offers us all the time. Sure, things work out in mundane ways in the end, but you never know what seemingly ordinary thing will take a turn for the extraordinary, either now or in the future. Mystery/suspense and science fiction allow you to explore how small things can turn into big, life changing events that alter the character and the world forever.

Generally speaking, what is the driving force behind your characters? 
It depends on which novel we’re discussing. In Blurry, the driving force for Rachel, the protagonist, is preparing for the future. She’s a high school senior set up for a full ride to college, and doesn’t want anything to stand in her way. Her problem is that she’s so focused on the future that she isn’t fully aware of the present. I remember suffering from the “ignoring the present for the sake of the future” phenomenon myself in high school, and it came back to me when my husband and I were building our home in 2007. I found myself falling into the “it will all be ok once this house is done and we’re moved in!” I saw those same thinking patterns unfold, and even had flashback dreams of high school during that time! It was a lesson for me to enjoy the present while I prepare for the future. Yes, planning is important, but living happens through each present moment. Both the lesson and the flashback dreams were the spark that turned into Blurry.

Have any of your characters changed in dramatic way from what you imagined at the start during the writing process? 
They always do. I killed off one character in Blurry that I didn’t intend to, and it was a struggle for me. I had a three-day mental battle over how to save this character, but I realized there was no way for the plot to move forward unless the villain caught them. Ironically, that death changed things for the entire novel, as it affected events and relationships in ways I didn’t anticipate. For example, Rachel grew closer to two characters that I intended as secondary figures, and further away from another one I thought would remain a great friend through the novel. That death also forced her to come to terms with things faster than I projected in my initial outlines. It did propel the story forward in a wonderful way. It’s just a shame that character died.

What do you find the most difficult in finishing a story and approximately how long does it take for you to write a story? 
The most difficult part of the story is always the middle. I’ve published 12 full-length novels, and that “middle sag” is a constant problem. I know how to start the story and how I want it to end, but those unexpected character and plot developments that tend to pop up as I write always wreck the outline and cause me to have to replan the entire middle of the novel! In one way it’s frustrating, because the plan never works as I expect. In another way, it’s exciting to see the characters take control and steer the plot in ways that are usually better than I planned. I learned that you can’t get too attached with those early outlines, because better ideas usually develop along the way.

Are there other types of writing you do such as non-fiction, or short fiction?
I started as an inspirational writer, but moved away from that because it didn’t sell and opportunities are limited if you aren’t a pastor or a mental health professional. Right now, the only non-fiction writing I do is for The Roost, which is a blog for bird owners/lovers about my life with my two parrots. I also enjoy writing long stories, novellas, and short stories. Ironically, writing these shorter works is more difficult for me, because I gravitate toward more complex plots! I keep working at them because they’re fun, and I feel it’s important to develop my skills in writing shorter works. I’ve published eight short ebooks, and two short story ebooks.

Has your writing affected you in any way and what would you recommend to someone wanting to start writing fiction? 
Writing has affected me in every way, because it determines how I perceive the world. Being a writer tends to open your eyes wider so you see more of a “big picture” than the “here and now” that most people see in rushing through their day. The imagination can spin things into more complex webs than most others see. It’s also therapeutic, because writers tend to take their personal issues to their characters and plots, and let them work out alternate meanings through parallel realities. For example, I wrote the five novels in my recently published Earthside Box Set during a prolonged, difficult life season while I struggled with a lot of change and difficult circumstances. Writing the books in that set helped me work through many personal issues. It also brought me to peace with many discoveries that I might not have made yet if I hadn’t been forced to explore them through the different perspective of my characters and the situations they faced.

My recommendation to anybody who wants to write fiction is to realize that you aren’t just writing a novel; you’re re-writing your perspective on life. You will see things differently. You will experience things differently than the people around you. Sometimes this will be a gift, and other times it will be a frustration because you’ll feel isolated and alone. But you really aren’t, because people and real life are your inspiration. Your relationships and the circumstances of day to day life will feed your muse and come back out in your writing in creative and wonderful worlds that most people can’t imagine unless you write and publish it. So go for it. Be patient. Be kind to others. Love people, love life, and appreciate your experiences (good and bad). Most of all realize that writing, just like life, is special because it’s made of the good, the bad, the strange, the miracles, the victories, the defeats, the mysterious, and the unknown – and that’s what makes them so special.

I love to write SciFi

I've read many genres, and have written in several genres in both fiction and non-fiction, but my favorite is science fiction. It lets my mind think about current problems or notions in society as I write, and expand upon the concept to see what they might develop into in the far future. I've noticed a lot of science fiction does this by giving a warning we should be careful of what we wish for, but also giving the message we can achieve a goal if we strive for it. For instance, the inventor of the mobile phone, Martin Cooper, said he was inspired by Captain James T. Kirk on Star Trek. Star Trek also displayed personal computers, laptops, bluetooth earbuds, GPS capabilities, and wide screen TVs. However, I'm still waiting for the instantaneous teleportation.

Right now current science and technology are evolving at an unprecedented rate and in many instances only speculation exists on what it might develop into in the future and how it will affect humanity. Not all of it leads to good news. Science fiction is largely, for me at least, basing the story on some aspect of that science. 

The genre has problems. In some scifi I've read the 'science' transcends into fantasy rather than real or probable in the future of science. That is okay, I guess, because nothing is more fantastical than quantum physics and some of the theories proposed like the present possibly affecting the past.

Some readers ignore or scoff at scifi because it is only 'imaginary.' Yet thousands of years ago when oral story-telling first started, the story tellers had moral and mental growth messages about life even though they didn't know about psychology. Many of the characters found in fairy tales and mythology are beyond human, but the listeners/readers found them real, and learned how normal humans interacted with these deities and monsters. Today these stories are known to have strong psychological messages. Psychologist Carl Jung suggested many of the characters from these tales lived in our subconscious, which Joseph Campbell expanded into literature. Characters like the hero, the shadow, the anima/animus (gender orientation), the  mentor, and the trickster. The same ideas affect most literature, including science fiction.

I think that is what science fiction should do: give warning and hope, expand the reader's 'normal' scope, and relate what is human. Of course, my scifi always has an element of romance, because humans remain human even in the future, as they have during the past thousands of years. If they didn't, then they would be a different species altogether.

A Review of Arcadia’s Children: Samantha’s Revenge

Arcadia’s Children:Samantha’s Revenge

https://www.arcadiaschildren.com

by Andrew R. Williams is a fascinating sci-fi novel filled with adventure and action. Written in the third person perspective, the book alternates between various characters.

The story takes place on a planet named Arcadia and a moon called Arden. Arcadia is an Earth type planet so it is capable of supporting life. However, colonization on Arcadia is restricted because dangerous pathogens could transfer from Arcadia to other planets. Only archaeological teams and paleontologists are allowed to travel to the planet, but the native people of Arcadia, known as the Ab, are not allowed to travel outside of the planet.

In Arden, a sudden noise in Ord Morley’s house causes him to get up from his bed and go downstairs. As he searches around his house, he finds the cause of the noise. The intruder is a protection droid named Alex who makes Morley connect to a recreational thought transfer cartridge(RTTP) which captures the thoughts or experiences of someone and allows someone else to view them. In this case, the RTTP has the experiences of Mick Tarmy, a detective corporal, who was ensnared in a plot to destroy the Great Ones. The Great Ones and the spettri are mind readers who are searching for a way to leave Arcadia and take over Arden. When Tarmy is blackmailed to join Samantha, a humanoid, in her quest to destroy the Great Ones, he learns a shocking secret that forces him to rethink his actions. With no choice but to do Samantha’s bidding, he risks his life as he travels to the restricted planet known as Arcadia.

The author does a great job building the suspense and there were some surprising twists to the plot. There were many subplots that were integrated into the main storyline which made it complex, but interesting. The story starts off in the present and flashes back to all the events recorded in the RTTP. There were multiple characters in the novel, and all of them played an integral role in the plot. The author vividly described each of the characters and how each of their choices impacted the rest of the characters. Even though there were so many characters introduced in the book, I found it easy to keep up with the names and roles of each one. Mick Tarmy was one of the most realistic characters in the book. He had many faults and doubts, but he manages to overcome them.

Overall, I would rate this book a 4 out of 4 stars. I throughly enjoyed reading this book. It was easy to follow and the ending made me want to read the next book of the series. I would recommend this book to those who like to read sci-fi/fantasy books.

Assassin’s Lair

By Michael Staton

Science Fiction, 418 pages
Cover art by Richard Stroud

Peace has returned to the Setor Empire. A new emperor sits on the throne. Setor’s nemesis, the sorceress Illisandra Zayla, died in a river tower soon after the thief Stealth rescued Prince Derrius Hextor from kidnappers. But an amnesic woman walks the warrens of the border city of Opal, and when she regains her memory she’ll decide the fate of the empire. In the Winter Palace, the emperor’s brother Myron has been corrupted by tainted magic and plots a civil war. Soon, a cataclysmic battle will take place, one that will be the scene of powerful war magic not unleashed in a thousand years. Stealth has her own battle to wage inside the walls of the Winter Palace. Enraged by the sexual intrigues, she must decide if she’ll stay with her lover Derrius or steal away to resume her thieving ways. What Stealth and the amnesic woman decide will not only determine the coming battle’s winner but the fate of the magical sword Larenia’s Shadow, hidden away inside the Assassins’ Guild’s mountaintop keep.

The Falcon Project

By Gabriel Timar
Futuristic Science Fiction, 310 pages
Cover art by Pat Evans

Blurb: Aficionados of science fiction will find this novel intriguing. In particular, those of you who thrive on the intricacies of engineering solutions to tricky unearthly problems will have a field day. Right from the start the reader is treated to a nearly catastrophic accident when a Mars mission crew and their spaceship are accidentally shrunk to a twentieth of their original size. What a challenge! More so, when Mike, the project Director, decides to keep the shrinkage a big secret, not just from the public, but from the crew. This generates terrific conflict for Mike and the few in the know as well as interesting technical problems to be overcome. .

Excerpt:
It was hard, dangerous, back-breaking work to survey the interior of the Rover. At times Tom felt like giving up, but his will to live kept him going. In about two weeks, they finished the job.

“There is enough cable on the Rover to connect the solar panels to the BCam,” reported Tom, “but I’m still thinking about making a gun or asking for Barbara’s poison. The job is hopeless. The clips and the screws holding the cables are too big and heavy. We cannot loosen them with our tools. In addition, we do not have the muscle.”

“Can you use the buggy?” Fred asked.

“It could drag the cable, but it’s not strong enough to rip it out.”

“Shit, can you take off enough cable to hook up the BCam if we are practically touching the Rover?” queried Jeff.

“I doubt we can remove even one clip,” Tom concluded.

“Can we take some cable off the BCam temporarily to make the connection and put it back?” Mario asked.

“I don’t know, but I’ll check. If we could find it in the command module, I think I can remove some cables, but with the rest of the ship, I’m afraid we’ll have the same problems.”

“I have a stupid idea,” Barbara started. “Can we use the laser cannon to cut some of the clips?”

“If my recollection is correct, the cannon was designed to operate in space,” Jeff explained. “We developed it to cut up the Russian satellites in case of a war. I think it would be like slicing an angel food cake with dynamite.”

“Not necessarily,” Tom interrupted. “I can take a relay off Barbara’s autoclave and install an extra choker to the aperture control. If it works, we can cut up the Rover as if it were actually angel food cake. How about the stowage; can we take the solar panels?”

“We cannot take all the solar panels, we have room for only about two thirds of them,” Fred replied.

“If the laser cannon works out as a cutter, we could dismantle a few units from the fringes, and take only the core,” Tom said.

“It was a hard day,” Barbara said. “By captain’s orders, stop working and start again first light tomorrow morning.”

“Anyone interested in a game of bridge?” Mario asked.

~ * ~

Mike returned from Goose Bay and found Betsy gone. Unperturbed, he phoned the DA’s office.

“This is Mike Carnavon…can I speak to Betsy?”

“Just a minute, sir,” came the reply, followed by a few clicks.

“Mike, this is Al Lander, what do you know of Betsy?”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked. He recognized the voice of the district attorney.

“She disappeared.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Anyway, she was arraigned yesterday, posted the bond and promptly disappeared. Where did you stash her?”

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Why was she arraigned?”

“Obviously, she didn’t tell you. We charged Betsy with prostitution and abuse of official powers.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Well, the cops have plenty of evidence and we are sure to get a conviction.”

“This is ridiculous, but I’ll check around and see where she could have gone. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do that, Mr. Carnavon,” the DA said and hung up.

Mike was puzzled and called his CIA contact.

“This is Carnavon, can I speak with Hastings?”

“Can you give me the password of the day, sir?”

Lovelace Superstar

By Charles Rayner Kelly

Futuristic/Sci-fi/Fantasy, 449 pages

Cover art by Trisha FitzGerald

Purchase from Barnes and Noble, Smashwords or Amazon 

It is fifty years into the future and a young charismatic leader has changed the direction the world was heading in the 21st century. He combines the renown of a superstar musician with words that touch the minds and hearts of countless people. Living in the violent unstable era that prevailed at the time, he is assassinated but his spirit lives on.

This is a story of the Awakening, which happened among people worldwide and led to the healing of the earth. Ecological and social crises were getting worse without hope of being resolved. It seemed as if humanity was in a death spiral.

Excerpt:

Not only did I start Lovelace's first fan club, but I also had an inside track on all the other fan clubs that sprouted up afterwards. I knew Lovelace's mother. I didn't really know her, but I knew she was the woman I always saw in church on Sundays, putting flowers on the altar and changing the linen. I decided to approach her when everyone else had gone.

“Psst. Can I speak with you a moment?” I asked over the sanctuary rail.

“Yes, child, what can I do for you?” she asked with a warm, inviting smile.

“Aren't you Lovelace's mother?” I inquired nervously.

“Yes, I am.”

“My name's Joan and I live two streets down from your house.”

“How nice, we're almost neighbors,” she said sweetly. “Perhaps you know my husband. He's the mail carrier.”

“No, ma'am, but I hear he's very nice.”

“Thank you, I'll tell him that.”

“I heard Lovelace singing on the radio yesterday.”

“You did? He told me he made a recording recently. He's being kept so busy, I hardly see him. Sometimes he comes home after I'm asleep and he leaves before I'm awake. It's only because of his unmade bed that I know he's been there.”

I would have made his bed every day if she wanted me to. But I didn't say that.

“Did you know his song is now in the top ten?” I asked her instead.

“It is? How wonderful! I wonder why he didn't tell me.”

“Maybe he doesn't know. It only reached it this morning. It was number forty-seven of the top one hundred last week and the week before it was ninety-six."

“I'll be sure to tell him. No doubt he'll be happy.”

“I've started a fan club for Lovelace too, ma'am. I was hoping you might tell him that also.”

She looked incredulous at first, but then I showed her a binder with the names and addresses and phone numbers of all the people I had enrolled.

“We're calling it the 'We Love Lovelace' fan club,” I said, probably sounding excited.

“How nice! How many people are in the fan club?”

“Five hundred and twenty-seven, ma'am, but that's only with three high schools. There are five more on my list.”

I saw that Lovelace's mother could hardly believe it, so I opened up the binder and showed her fifty-three pages of ten names apiece. At the top of every page was written 'We Love Lovelace' Fan Club in silver and purple lettering.

“Here's the logo I've made, a heart made of lace with a capital 'L' in the center.” I showed her. “I still need a photo of him. I could blow it up so people could see our tables from a distance, and know where to come to join his fan club.”

“My goodness, wait till his father hears of this. Can I have these pages?”

“No ma'am, they're all I've got. But I'd be happy to bring them over to your house this afternoon, if that's all right. Then you can show them to your husband.”

She looked at me and then smiled. “All right, you know where we live? Come around three o'clock today and we'll have tea and cookies.”

400 Years Between Stars

By Benjamin F. Jones

Futuristic/Sci-Fi, 414 pages

Cover art by Richard Stroud

Blurb:

Reaching the planet’s surface, Dyandra is horrified to discover that only half of the crew touched down. The rest are trapped in space by a mutiny. With inadequate provisions and separated from family and friends she must battle for survival in an environment she doesn’t understand.

Excerpt:

One

Alexandra looked at the slack faces of her fellow crewmembers and wished she’d taken the sedative too. The deceleration couch gripped until it hurt. Her pill was stowed beneath her but she wasn’t going to get it—not this close to separation.

Her daughter was in another lander, one of sixteen. Alexandra tried to thread her. The network was busy. That had never happened—but then neither had landing. The ship was 400 years between stars; they had almost reached their goal: Tane.

She listened to the landing craft running through diagnostics.

The ship rattled with sounds she didn’t recognise.

A thread from the ship’s AI whipped her alert. She thumbed the valve to release the couch and staggered upright. The room was a network of struts, installed in the lead-up to landing. She hit her head and swore. The AI’s thread listed open hatches—several of them. How can that be? I was the last to leave the mothership. I sealed those hatches myself.

Her arm struck a bulkhead and she swore again.

Freya opened one eye and looked at her.

“What’s happening?” Her friend’s question was ill-formed and smothered with emotion. It connected directly to Alexandra’s mind but felt elusive as a breath.

“I’ve got to go,” Alexandra threaded back. Freya was barely conscious; her thoughts kept bursting through with links to older memories and snapshots of them together.

“I’m scared.”

“I’ll be back.” Alexandra pushed away Freya’s contact that wrapped through the network.

Alexandra broke the seal on her own craft and went out into the mothership’s central corridor superstructure which housed the ship’s drive and the AI, a long tube with hatches that lead to the landers. There were sixteen craft and they should all be readied for separation. Part of her hoped the open hatches were due to a sensor malfunction. Hatches don’t open themselves—every non-essential component had been cannibalised to repair life support functions and make repairs to the farm modules.

Alexandra threaded the countdown on the network. Twenty minutes to sort out the problem and get back to my craft.

It was not a sensor error—the hatches were open—now that she was in the mothership she could see them.

“What’s going…?”

She threaded the ship’s AI but it had disappeared from the network. Alexandra felt fear growing—her whole life she’d never known the AI to be unreachable. The machine was their lifeline, the controller of the mission. She tried her daughter…unavailable. Alexandra rested her hand on the bulkhead nearest to her and took a breath. In her forty-seven years of life, she had known nothing but routine maintenance and repairs.

She felt alone—uncomfortable without the AI. She threaded Freya but the contact was a mess of terror. Her friend would be no use until the launch window was a million miles behind them.

Looking up the central core of the ship, she could see several open hatches. The drive eased off. She fought back nausea but she’d experienced half-gee before, so it didn’t last long. The change in the drive’s tone brought it to her consciousness.

She moved towards the nearest open hatch. The reduced gravity made her climb rough and uneven. Arms flailing, she tried to reach out for a hold and her elbow smashed into the bulkhead. A superficial injury, but the pain added another layer to her lack of coordination. The metal edge of bulkhead had ripped through her coverall; her blood showed against the material—red on natural cotton.

She heard a shout from above her.

“Alexandra...”

At last someone has come to help. Donna was hanging out into the central corridor, holding onto the safety rail with one arm. Her blonde hair was tied back, revealing a wide expanse of forehead.

“Help me with these hatches,” yelled Alexandra.

“Go back to your craft,” Donna called back.

Alexandra couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“We separate in minutes,” Alexandra said. “Get the farms closed up—we won’t survive without them.”

Donna laughed. The sound caught Alexandra by surprise. Has she gone mad?

“Alexandra, for the sake of everyone on board—go back to your lander—please.”

The tone made Alexandra falter. Panic had stopped her seeing Donna clearly. Donna’s face wasn’t smothered with fear, nor was it sedated; her face showed regret.

“We have fifteen minutes to do this or the whole mission is...” Alexandra pulled herself past Donna and started to wind closed the hatch to one of the farms. Seconds bunched up. Working in half-gee had the added disadvantage that she couldn’t brace against her weight. She cursed loudly each time the windlass completed a turn; her elbow hurt.

The latch on the farm unit’s airlock closed with a worn thunk. The status lights that showed the farm’s readiness for launch flicked from red to green. Alexandra didn’t have time for a smile as she moved to the next hatch. She was aware of Donna yelling from farther along the central corridor. What was wrong with her? Arms crying in agony, Alexandra turned the windlass on the second hatch. She was breathing hard. Her ears popped—she swallowed to clear the discomfort. The ship was making adjustments to pressures, readying for separation.

“Stop!” Donna yelled.

Alexandra put all her effort into closing another hatch. Her back ached. Her fingers were numb and she could feel nothing but adrenaline. She wasted a couple of seconds trying to thread the AI—nothing. She queried the network. The result filled her with hopelessness; this wasn’t a couple of hatches that had accidentally been left; this was planned. It was mutiny.