Tag Archives: New Novel

Author Interview: EDC Johnson

Today, I get to interview the cool, and awesome author, EDC Johnson. You may remember her from last week’s guest post about the love triangle. Her YA novel, Moonflower is available at Amazon and Barnes & Nobel.

RwF: Are you willing to share what the EDC stands for, or is that part of your secret identity?

EDC: My first name is Elizabeth, I’m not trying to keep that a secret, but in an effort to protect what fragment of my identity I can I will keep the rest to myself.

(I did some digging for my fans. The other initials stand for Desire Chaistain. Or was it Donald Charles? No… Oh, yeah: Depak Chopra! No, that would be insulting. That’s right: Deborah Chinning.)

R.w.F: Okay, then. How would you prefer to be addressed by your crazed, stalkery – Wait, I mean, your adoring, polite fans?

EDC: You have to keep your stalker fans in line you know .  I prefer to be addressed as EDC Johnson or Ms. Johnson.  Some times I get asked or teased about having the three initial but in my defense there are quite a number of Johnson’s out there.  (You have no idea how badly I wanted to say “…that’s Dr. Jones, to you toots.”)

R.w.F: <chuckles> Without giving too much away, can you tell us what your book is about?

EDC: Beyond the synopsis I would have to say it is a real coming of age story.  The heroine, Josie Woods, has a lot of personal growth going on through the novel.  It addresses issues that range from coming to terms with death, falling in love and self-awareness.  Josie’s adventure isn’t limited to a journey to a strange world, but the journey of becoming a young adult.

R.w.F: How long did it take you to write this book?

EDC: I was writing the book for about 3 years in my free time. When it was complete I went through the editing process with my writing group and the publishing process for approximately another year on top of that.

R.w.F: What was your inspiration to write this book?
EDC: It may seem cliché, but it came to me in a day-dream. Right before I was about to fall asleep I imagined this scenario and it began to play like a movie in my mind. Then I incorporated my favorite necklace into the idea. It is made of moonstone. This then made me wonder if there was an actual moonflower, and, well, the rest is history.

R.w.F: Please tell us in one sentence only, why we should read your book.
EDC: Moonflower is a novel that has something for readers of all ages: action, drama, romance and has debuted to positive reviews.

R.w.F: Which of the so-called rules of writing did you hear the most as you wrote?

EDC: When I began writing I had a tendency to use passive voice too often.

R.w.F: What is your opinion of it?

EDC: Passive voice isn’t totally a bad thing but when it is overused in your writing it will weaken your story.   I avoid this problem by trying to use an active voice often so when a passive phrase sneaks in it isn’t so bad.

R.w.F: Are you an outliner, or a seat-of-the-pants writer?

EDC: I am mostly a seat-of-my-pants kind of writer.  I have distinct moments plotted in my mind and I definitely know how I want the book to end. In essence I will start at moment A and the characters play out action toward their goals to reach moment B.  On occasion I will imagine a new plot point that adds action or meaning to the story and I will work that in unexpectedly.

R.w.F: Why pantsing?

EDC: As an artist, creativity tends to be a very kinetic thing.  I understand the use of an outline and can appreciate those that use them but I have never enjoyed them myself.  For some reason I find it to be busy work, yet it can be very useful.  It is simply how I work—to each their own and all that.

R.w.F: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

EDC: Well, it was really a two-part process. It started by reading Twilight with my husband at a friend’s recommendation. If I am completely honest, at the risk of upsetting Twilighters, it became a running joke with my husband how many times Stephenie Meyer used the word “dazzling.” I still enjoyed the book and read the rest of the series, but I came to the conclusion that it was a good entertaining book without Pulitzer Prize winning writing. I thought to myself I can do that!

As the Twilight craze continued I noticed a few of my students were reading the book. During discussion with a group of girls some had admitted that they would wait for the movie rather than read the thick YA novel. Later that week I saw a girl thumbing through a book she was debating to read. She decided to check it out of the library when she saw the illustrations. This made me decide that I wanted to write a book that would be appealing to young readers yet still challenge them as budding readers. As an art teacher my artistic skills would be put to good use in drawing my own chapter header illustrations. It was my hope that young readers would be less intimidated to read novels while growing their vocabulary and ability for sustained reading.

R.w.F: What is your take on the “rule” to write what you know?

EDC: There is a truth in it. Obviously fiction writers are creating their own worlds and scenarios but to bring a character to life a writer must breathe life into him. The best way to make a character is to understand his/her emotions through your own experiences. How can you write love, hate or sadness if you have never felt it yourself?

R.w.F: Good point. Do you have any writing projects you are working on?

EDC: I am working on the sequel to Moonflower of which I’m not willing to give away too many details. I’ll save the title for a future blog reveal, but I want you to relish in the idea that our characters will meet again—with a few new friends.
I have another series I am working on that will shy away from the period era setting and stretch the idea of fantasy. This project is a long way off as I work on the Moonflower series.

This interview will continue on Wednesday. 

Book Excerpt

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Today, we’re getting an excerpt from the first (awesome) novel of L.T.Kelly. Enjoy:

 

Excerpt from Chapter Three ‘Falling to Pieces’

 

His perfume lingered in my nostrils, making the fantasy easier for me. I folded my hand around my breast, cupping the smooth pale skin and let my palm continue down to my belly stopping when I reached the curly hair poking out of my open jeans.

Undoubtedly, I had to do something about the pent up sexual tension whirring through my body.

I stepped across the ivory coloured tiles in my bathroom and leaned over the large oval bath to turn on the taps. I closed the door, wanting the room to fill with steam so I would experience a physical mist in addition to the mist collected within my thoughts.

My eyes glowed with such brightness I couldn’t help but catch sight of them in the mirror, the rest of my face might hardly be noticed.

What’s happening to me?’ I thought while gasping at the sensation of pulling the rough denim down my legs. I dropped the shirt on the floor, close enough for me continue enjoying Marc’s scent from the tub.

I stepped into the clear water without taking the time to check the temperature. I’m unaffected by different temperatures. Not from air or water. I can feel them but they don’t bother me. I run cold all of the time, so my body can preserve the blood I drink for optimal operation, not heating.

After turning off the taps I laid back, the water lapped over my body. The swishing sensation electrified all of my nerve endings.

I closed my eyes again, finding doing so helped with the visualisation. I fantasised about him being here in the bathroom, watching me with his lip curled into a half smile. I audibly gulped at the sight of his body, the image of his nakedness in my minds eye.

His legs appeared powerful, thick and defined with muscle and dusted with dark hair—how sweet it would be to have those legs entwined with my own.

The definition of his stomach muscles made me want to lick the ridges, up to his pectorals sitting square and subtle on his broad chest. His nipples the beautiful colour of rich coffee beans. I ran my tongue over my lips imagining how the buds would taste in my mouth—how his body would respond—turned on from knowing my touch made him swell with the same desire I was experiencing.

I shuddered as I put my head under the hot water, allowing my hair to billow around me. I wanted the sensation of being touched. I wanted to be enveloped entirely. Water was the only thing available to me, the single thing offering the ability touch every part of me simultaneously.

I pinpointed the pressure of the water over my breasts, curling over their roundness and wetting my nipples. I automatically arched my back imagining the water was his chest and my erect buds brushed over his smooth skin, making them harder still at the thought.

On the ascent the water whooshed up between my legs putting pressure on the sensitive skin at my apex. I cried out a little and my palm flew to cup the throbbing area in surprise.

Reaching down to the crook of my knee I traced my fingertips up the inside of my thigh, experimenting with the sensation.

The image of the excited man in my bathroom urged me to continue, his parted lips begged me to join him in touching what needed to be touched for the release I craved.

I brushed over the throbbing flesh hidden between the thick curls and circled the area around my sex until I ached for more.

Unable to resist any longer, I ran my fingers from my opening up through the swollen folds gasping at the orgasmic tingling sensation affecting every nerve ending. My fingers flew hungrily back down to the entrance, and as I raised my hips out of the water I plunged them deep inside, caressing the slick wetness lying within.

Marc remained in the bathroom with me in the fantasy racing around my mind. Only now he watched me more intently, his eyes admiring my naked body and the way I touched myself.

The dim vanity light picked up the sheen on his tanned skin caused by the steam clouding the room; little drips trailed their way down his broad shoulders and over his thick arms down to his finger tips, burning to touch me, to take away my frustration while taking care of his own.

The pace of my fingers quickened, the friction against my dark pink flesh forcing automatic groans that didn’t even sound like they came from my throat.

Every single muscle in my body started to tense, building up with delicious pleasure, the blood from my earlier feed pumping furiously through my heart, pounding in my ears.

My breathing became erratic, every breath I took seemed to catch in my throat. My fingers pinpointed the source of the amazing sensation, so I concentrated on the nub, pressing harder and brushing my fingers over the spot, quickening my pace with every stroke and sensing my core build until I couldn’t hold back any longer.

I held my breath as the orgasm ripped through me. The sensation continued shivering though me. My lips parted allowing a strangled moan to escape them.

My mind went blank, pushing everything away apart from the pleasure I experienced under Marc’s watchful gaze.

As the orgasm petered out I let go of my limbs, unable to carry the weight of them any longer. My torso slumped back and slid down until my face was beneath the water.

I’d never touched myself before, never knew the need. In my human life I’d been taught masturbation was immoral. My sexual experiences had been traumatic to say the least.

Maybe it was Thomas’ fault that I’d lived my life as an asexual? He’d always treated me like a child, so maybe I’d just taken his lead and behaved as such?

My whole body relaxed, enjoying the afterglow as I lifted my head out of the water and rested back against the porcelain. My heartbeat slowed right down, only beating occasionally now. I’d be a little slower and my senses would suffer a slight impairment until the next feed.

A feed usually lasts me at least a few days but I had exhausted the blood I had taken tonight in a few short hours. I’d need to feed again as soon as the sun went down the coming evening. The blood had been used up through all the excitement of my pounding heart. A feed could only pump through my heart a few times before being soaked up by my organs.

I sat up lifting my head out of the water and pressed my back against the porcelain. I felt tired but lacked the drive to climb out of the water and go to bed.

Without any warning the bathroom door slammed open. Chunks of plaster spat out over the tiled floor, the door handle embedded into the wall. Water spilled out of the bath as I thrashed around in the tub trying to grip the slippery surface.

Thomas filled the doorway—he’s not a tall man, only around five foot nine, but his aura filled the space. His feet planted wide apart and his hands formed powerful fists. His eyes so wide, the whites were visible all the way around his dark denim irises.

In a flash he grabbed my flailing arms, wrenching me out of the tub. My jaw hung slack as he smashed my back into the sink. A sickening crunch of my spine snapping against the solid surface echoed around the room. The splinters of porcelain rattled and smashed over the slippery floor.

I rebounded onto the hard, cold tiles, unable to move and surrounded by pieces of what once formed my sink. My mouth all of a sudden tasted coppery and my head spun.

“Thomas,” I breathed his name. Drops of water rolled off my skin and had started to form a puddle around me.

Shock pulsed through my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine why he would do such a thing to me. I wanted to scream and shout but the healing would take time because my body was running so low on human blood. I struggled to turn my head to look at him.

 

About the Author

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L.T. Kelly was born and raised in Solihull, UK. She started writing short stories at school where her teachers offered her lots of feedback and encouragement.

Aged seventeen she joined the Royal Air Force, her career didn’t reserve a lot of time to write so she pushed her passion for it to the back of her mind.

After an eleven and a half career she started writing short stories again until a friend commented that she should write a novel.

She has always had an unhealthy obsession with vampires, so of course it was inevitable that a plot involving vampires would be the first to spring to mind.

L.T. Kelly lives in Lincolnshire, UK with her husband and two children.

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Where to purchase ‘Falling to Pieces’ by L.T. Kelly