31 January 2012
Interview with Tori Scott
Today, an interview with best-selling Indie-author, Tori Scott.
Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?
The first one I wrote was way back in grade school. Needless to say that one doesn't really count. Then I wrote one called Goddess of Fire back in 1992 after a trip to Hawaii. It's still buried in the bowels of an old Word processor that I'm afraid to throw away in case I ever figure out how to retrieve the contents.
What led you to try your hand at Indie-publishing?
I'm a member of a group comprised of 2003 Golden Heart Finalists. Several of them were braver than I was and launched their Indie careers in 2010. They were having great success and it got me excited about writing for the first time in a few years. I wanted to try it and see if I could do it.
Would you recommend the Indie-route for everyone? If not, why?
For really good writers, yes. By that I mean those who know how to write a full novel, don't need a heavy-handed editor, don't need a lot of proof-reading. Those who have written several novels. Until a writer has reached that point, they still need the guidance of an experienced editor. But for those who've written several, have gotten good feedback on them from editors and agents but just can't get their foot in the door, it's a great opportunity.
Where do your ideas come from?
I have no idea. Most of my ideas come out of the blue as I'm laying down at night. Lines of dialogue start running through my head and before I know it, I'm back at the computer typing as fast as I can to get it all down. I'll usually write 5 pages or so before I can go back to sleep.
How did you come up with the idea for Superstition?
During a visit to California, we were standing on the Santa Monica pier and the wind was blowing really hard. The though popped into my head that it would be really hard to scatter someone's ashes in that kind of wind and...voila, a story was born.
Do you have any more paranormal romances in the works or finished?
Not at the moment, but there will be.
Will there be a sequel to Superstition?
Yes, that's second in line after I write the sequel to Blame it on Texas. Can't wait.
To learn more about Tori and her writing, visit her on the web at: Tori Tells All
Now, an excerpt from Tori's exciting paranormal romance.
Gage Deveraux curled his fingers around the amulet, felt the incredible energy sealed within the hammered brass, and shuddered. In the wrong hands... He would just have to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. “Thank you,” he said to the old cleric who had placed it in his hands with great care. “I will guard it with my life.”
“No!” the old man shouted. “Do not guard it. Destroy it. Take it away in your helicopter and drop it into the depths of the ocean. Do not keep it. It will destroy you.”
But Gage didn’t hear him over the roar of the blades that churned up the desert sand and flung it into his face. He waved and jogged toward the chopper, scrambling aboard as it lifted into the air and swung away towards the base camp.
He settled into the seat next to the pilot and watched as the old man grew smaller, merely a speck against the sand. Something nagged at him, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. How had the old man known he’d be in this place, at this time? Why had he entrusted him with an ancient Babylonian treasure that supposedly held such tremendous power? And what was he going to do with it, now that he had it?
“ETA twenty-seven minutes, Captain,” the pilot said through the headset.
Gage nodded without taking his eyes off the amulet. It still pulsed within his hand. Heat radiated from it, warming the skin of his palm. Maybe the best thing would be to destroy it so that no one could ever attempt to use its power. But this entire mission was about stopping those who were stripping Iraq of treasures just like this one. He would be going against orders if he destroyed it.
Still, even a strong man could be tempted by power such as this...
It was a terrible day to scatter ashes. The night was rainy and cold, miserable with the storm whipping the ocean into waves that thundered and crashed against the shore behind her. But Caitlyn Deveraux had missed the last two chances because she hadn’t been ready to let Gage go. Now that she’d made up her mind, it had to be tonight.
She couldn’t stand to look at the urn on her mantle until the next full moon. A full moon, exactly at sunset. He’d left precise instructions in his will.
Standing at the end of the Santa Monica pier, Caitlyn clutched the cold brass vase to her chest as a gust of wind tried to blow her back from the railing, yanking at her coat and tossing her hair around her face. She brushed it out of her eyes and tucked the strands beneath her collar. The rain soaked her face, mixing with the tears on her cheeks, numbing them. Cold. So damned cold. Drawing on the courage of her ancestors, even though she continued to pretend they didn’t exist, she removed the lid and looked inside. Ashes. All that was left of Gage. All that was left of her family. Of her life.
It was time.
Caitlyn leaned over the railing, fighting the dizziness. She hated heights, even though there was a sturdy rail between her and the water, and only her love for Gage kept her in place. It took two tries to let him go. Before she could lose courage again, she turned the urn upside down, shook it, and spoke the strange words he’d written. Words of the Anasazi, the lost ones--who couldn’t be lost enough as far as she was concerned.
As his remains drifted toward the ocean, a gale-force gust of wind took her breath away. The ashes blew back in her face and she gasped, inhaling the acrid residue.
Caitlyn dumped the last of the ashes from the urn and fled, gagging, back across the pier, stumbling along the boardwalk to her car.
Oh God. To breathe in her brother’s ashes...
She wrenched the door open and grabbed her water bottle to rinse her mouth. Not enough. When she tried to take a drink, a coughing fit sent the water spraying across the driver’s seat.
Caitlyn dropped the bottle and collapsed in a heap on the ground, giving in to tears until she had none left to shed.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, but the moon was full and rising when she heard the scuff of shoes and whisper of fabric. She forced her eyes open to find a man in a dark suit towering over her. He crouched beside her and she cowered against the cold steel of her vehicle.
Where had he come from? Could she make it into her car before he could grab her? No, there was no way. She had to get on her feet. She was at too much of a disadvantage on the ground.
“Are you all right? May I help you in any way?” His voice was deep, husky, concerned. He didn’t look like a man intent on hurting her. But you couldn’t go by looks.
“No.” She shook her head and sat up straighter. Trying to appear confident and unafraid, she maneuvered to her knees. “I’m fine. Really. Just got a...a little emotional.”
“Ah, I understand.” He picked up the urn, rubbing it between his hands. “It is very difficult, saying goodbye. A family member?”
She shoved her hair back from her face and tried to stand. His hand immediately appeared and she looked at it, weighing the risk. No, better to avoid contact. She ignored his silent offer of help and pushed to her feet. “My brother.”
“I am so sorry. It is hard to lose someone so young.”
“Yes, it is. He was only thirty.” Her voice broke on a sob and the man offered her a crisp white handkerchief. “Thank you.” She mopped her cheeks and handed it back.
He refolded it and held it toward her face. “Lick this.”
“You have smudges on your cheeks. I was simply going to wipe them away.”
Not a chance. He seemed harmless enough, but still...“I have a water bottle in the car.” Caitlyn pulled it out and squirted the last few drops of water onto the cloth, leaned over to look in the side mirror, and scrubbed at her cheek.
“Much better,” he said. Before she could move, he reached out and lifted the chain around her neck. “This is an interesting necklace.”
“Thank you.” God, she had to get away before she completely fell to pieces. “I have to go. Thank you for being so kind.” She gave him a small smile, climbed into her Ford Focus, and shut the door. Damn, she’d left the window down earlier. Before she could start the car and roll it up, the man laid his hand on the open window frame. Nerves hummed throughout her body and she berated herself for not being more diligent about her safety on this isolated stretch of coastal highway.
“I will follow you to see that you get home safely,” he said.
“No!” She struggled to control her voice, to not show how terrified she was. “No, please. That isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. Thank you again, but I don’t want to trouble you any further.”
Caitlyn started the car and drove away. When she checked her rearview mirror, he was nothing more than a dark shadow outlined by the full moon. She stepped on the accelerator, picking up speed to put more distance between them. Now that she was safe, she wondered who he was. He reminded her of Jamir. He had that same intense gaze through eyes dark as pitch, the same ability to approach without making a sound.
A set of headlights followed her for miles along the coast, through the outskirts of Los Angeles, and even through the streets of Pasadena. Or maybe it was just her imagination. There were hundreds of cars on the highway, so what made her think it was the man from the beach?
Instinct. Stronger than she’d ever felt it before. But she couldn’t tell if he was watching over her, or if he meant to hurt her. She thought it was the former, but her instincts had been wrong before. She didn’t know if she should trust them now.
He stayed a couple of car lengths back, neither threatening nor comforting.
“You remind me a lot of your brother.” The voice echoed in her head, but sounded as though it came from inside the car.
She jerked the wheel. Who said that? Horns blared all around her and she realized she’d swerved into another lane.
“Whoa. Careful. Can’t afford to lose you now that I’ve found you. Settle down. You’re almost home.”
Who the hell was that? She looked in the rear view mirror, over the back seat. No one, yet the voice had been distinctly masculine, and it was close. Very close. Almost right inside her head.
“There, that’s better. Now, take it easy and pay attention to your driving. Then maybe we will both arrive in one piece.”
Nausea clawed at her stomach and her hands trembled. Think. What would Gage do? If someone followed him, he’d lose the tail by cutting through alleys and side streets. As long as she was on the freeway, she was easy to track.
Having a plan helped her push the fear aside. She could do this.
Her right foot punched the gas pedal and her car shot off the highway at the next exit, cutting off a car as she changed lanes. Her pulse kicked into overdrive, pounding in her temples. She heard tires squeal behind her, the clash of metal against metal. “Take that, you son of a bitch.”
Tori's giving away a free download of Superstition to one of our lucky BTV readers. Just leave a comment to this post, and make sure we have your email address. One winner will be chosen at random.
To buy Superstition, visit one of the following links:
Barnes & Noble