Location: Oregon
Age…ish?: 28
Genre(s) you write: Young Adult Fantasy, Paranormal
Books/Authors you love: Stephen King stuff. I liked the Harry Potter series as well. I also like some of the old stuff such as Tolkien and C.S. Lewis
How long have you been writing? Um... Been for a long time, I think I created my first Comic Book back in Kindergarten which was 12 parts. Seriously, probably about 12 years, first screenwriting and about 2 years ago started my first novel.
Do you have any professional/industry experience as a writer? I've done a little technical writing at my current job, but want to get into publishing/editing more, but my state doesn't have much in the way of that career.
Had anything published? Nope.
Agent status (please X all that apply)
[ ] Need one
[X] Want one. Desperately. Want. One.
[ ] Got one
[ ] We’re “talking”
[ ] I’m cyberstalking him/her, but so far they have yet to respond to my inappropriate sexual advances…. Erm, I mean, my query letter.
[ ] Agent? Who needs an agent?
Either/Or when you write:
Pen and paper, or computer screen? computer screen, but have written a few short stories with pen and paper.
Plotster (outlines, scene cards, etc.) or Pantster (writing by the seat of your pants)? Pantser. I like that word.
Music on, or off? I like music, but can't always have it.
Solitude, or surrounded by people, sounds, things? Solitude when at home, but I also write while at work during work. shhh don't tell my boss.
Cleanest first draft possible, or screw grammar/spelling/punctuation and fix it later? I'm more of a screw grammar I'll fix it later kind of guy.
Slave to the whimsy of your muse, or writing like it’s your job, even when you don’t feel like it? I try to write 5 days a week if possible. Weekends are reserved for family. Some days, after an early morning due to kids its harder than other times, but usually I write Monday through Friday while at work, and on my lunch. If the mood hits me after work, but I think I get about 4 hours or writing in a day at work including an hour of it during lunch.
Do you have a certain place/time of day/writing implement/obsessive ritual/etc. that is crucial to your writing process? Nope.
Where do you get your inspiration? I first get a what if going, like what if my characters all had powers controlled by their mind. (Gifts.) What if twin sisters were also deadly assassins and one wanted to leave the life? (Silent Souls.) Then I start to develop the characters, first the main one and then they introduce me to the others as I write.
What one thing do you really love about your own writing? I think I do action scenes well, coming from a screenwriting background, I feel I'm best at describing the actions as opposed to the emotional aspects.
What one thing do you wish you could do better? Up the emotional aspects and inner feelings of the characters.
Anything else you want to say? I think that if you learn to listen to life, the writing will reflect that.
Anything for us to read? This is the first page or so of Gifts:
Rebecca hurried toward the front gates of the football stadium, tired of always missing the first half. A few stragglers had started filing in as the halftime show came to an end. Mr. Gerrard, dressed in Peakside purple and white, stopped her. “Come on Rebecca, you don’t want to miss the entire game, do you?”You can visit John's website here, or his blog here. Thanks John!
Rebecca sighed. “Sorry Mr. Gerrard. I got caught up in my book again. How’s Alex doing?”
“He’s doing well,” he said. She flinched at the sight of a piece of popcorn stuck between his teeth.
She slipped past and continued toward the bleachers. Before she climbed the steps up into the stands, a scream stopped her in her tracks and she turned to where she thought the sound came from. She took a quick glance back at Mr. Gerrard, but he was busy counting the receipts for the game, oblivious to the scream. Curious, she headed toward the sound, hoping she imagined it. The gravel crunched underneath her feet, grating on her nerves, as she approached the back alley of the bleachers.
Mixing with the adrenaline, her gift flooded throughout her. She cherished the power as it seeped into her, giving her a soft electrical buzz and some much needed confidence.
Behind the bleachers, Gretchen and three of her friends pinned Cindy against the wall. A flash of light reflected off the class ring on Gretchen’s finger when she slapped Cindy. Her friends snickered like hyenas while holding the struggling Cindy. The pained expression on her face revealed that this incident had been going on for a while.
Rebecca’s power increased with her anger as she moved into the alley behind the bleachers, away from the roaring crowd. The crunch of gravel gave her away and they turned toward her.
A crooked smile crossed Gretchen’s lips. “Rebecca? You’re the last person I expected to show up.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Sure.”
Gretchen’s friends released Cindy. Cindy rubbed her red cheek where a red palm print glowed on her cheek. After a moment to catch her breath, she shoved her way through Gretchen’s friends, and disappeared into the shadows. Hoping Cindy was okay,
Rebecca felt the energy tingle at her fingertips, but she didn’t want to let it out, so she clenched her jaw. Now that her power teetered on the edge, she struggled to keep it contained.