Post-Apocalyptic Romance: THE DRAGON'S THIEF Interview with Su Lute

Sarah Raplee interviewed today's guest, multi-talented romance author Susan Lute.

SUSAN LUTE

 What sets a Post-Apocalyptic Romance apart from other Sci-Fi Romances?

A post-apocalyptic romance is set in a very specific time period after the destruction of the world as we know it today. They can be any sub-genre – pararnormal, steampunk, fantasy, futuristic, action drama, dystopian like The Hunger Games. My debut PA Romance, Dragon's Thief is a paranormal-fantasy, with a dash of steampunk.

What led you to write a Post-Apocalyptic Romance Novel?

It's a cautionary tale really, one some of you may have already heard. Frustrated by the shrinking markets for manuscripts and wondering how a writer was supposed to know in which genre their voice fit best, I decided to do an experiment. I took my favorite hero – a reformed mercenary; my favorite heroine – a thief; and my favorite setting – a bar, a little worn around the edges. The challenge was to take these three elements and write the meet cute in four or five different genres – not contemporary because I was writing contemporary romance and women's fiction at the time and figured I had a sample of what my voice looked like in those genres - but historical, young adult, paranormal, and cozy mystery to see where my voice shined the most. Because I never envisioned in my wildest dreams I could write paranormal, that's the one I started with. And I wrote. And I wrote. And I kept writing until I wrote, The End. The proposal for Dragon's Thief is now sitting on an editor's desk waiting to be read.

Which came to you first, your plot or your characters?

The characters. The plot came while writing that first scene.

Why do you think this romance sub-genre is gaining in popularity at this time?

Well it's 2012, and there are a lot of predictions pertaining to the Mayan calendar at the end of this year. I think people are curious. What's next for human kind? It's nice that some of us have stories to tell about it.

What did you find most difficult about writing this book?

Absolutely nothing. This book just flew out of my fingertips. It was a joy to write all the way through.

What did you find most fun?

Writing the first scene where Logan and Beyla meet. Then the tournament which takes up the second half of the book. And the end. I also LOVED writing the fighting scenes. And especially I LOVED writing Logan and Beyla's romance.

In your opinion, who is the audience for these stories?

That's the magic question, isn't it? The most likely audience for PA Romances, and especially for Dragon's Thief, is going to be anyone who's interested in reading stories about finding family in the most unlikely places. Readers who love characters with the courage to find themselves and fight for what they discover in the most challenging environments. And readers who want to believe humanity will survive, no matter what trials we go through.

Do you have books out in other sub-genres of romance?

I do. Contemporary Romance, and Women's Fiction.

In fact I have a new release coming out in October, The Broken Road. Here’s the blurb:

"Susan Lute is a beautiful keeper
of the human heart..."

Dr. Dana Murphy has everything a physician can want. Everything except the one thing she can’t get back. When she’s diagnosed with a degenerative condition that threatens the career she loves, and her husband discovers he has a teenage daughter, the comfortable life she’s built begins to unravel. When her crazy mother and sister come to stay, in the chaos that follows, Dana scrambles to scotch tape it all back together, and instead finds herself on the brink of losing everything she holds dear.

Thank you so much for having me. This has been a lot of fun.  ~Susan Lute

Now available...
THE RETURN OF BENJAMIN QUINCY
THE LONDON AFFAIR
A GIRL NAMED JANE, The Prequel
JANE'S LONG MARCH HOME

More @www.susanlute.com & www.seejanepublish.wordpress.com
 

Life's Every Day Mysteries

September 14, 2012

The flash of black in the leafy green vegetation didn’t register in my still awakening mind.

What did?

The driver standing next to the vehicle, climbing aboard and getting on his cell phone.

Of course my curiosity was aroused. In the 37 years I’d lived in this house, I’d never seen this happen before. Out on my front porch I watched the driver’s animated face and gestures. Something was certainly up.

He hung up and trotted over to where I still stood on my porch.

“Sorry, mam, they’ll have a replacement out within seven days.”

The look on my face must have been comically confused.

He flashed me a big grin, pointed over his shoulder with his thumb and said, “Your bin fell into the truck and was crushed.”

That scene took place on Friday morning. On Monday morning a clean yard debris bin sat in my yard!

Reading this, you may wonder if this is the most exciting real life mystery I’ve ever experienced. My answer would be ‘it depends’. (Actually ‘it depends’ is one of my most favorite answers to virtually any question).

There was the time when a piece of peacock stone came off my Crone Staff at a Women of the 14^th Moon Ceremony. I looked Every Where for it. The next year I spied something glittering in the grass – a piece of peacock stone.

I used to be an avid reader of mysteries. Sherlock Holmes (I’ve the Complete Unabridged Edition); Agatha Christie, and Lillian Braun “The Cat Who…” were favorites I read and reread. These days the mystery needs to be layered into an Historical or Contemporary Romance for me to have a chance of reading it.

If you think there is no mystery in my life, I will admit there isn’t as much as there used to be. I have one special place for my house and car keys and my purse so I do not spend hours trying to solve the mystery of where they are. I make lists to keep in some semblance of control over the mystery of ‘what was it I was supposed to get done today?’ However, there are still those evenings and mornings when I ask myself “Did I take my pills?” Not remembering, I’m ever so glad I take nothing life threatening – if that were the case, I’d certainly figure out a way to eliminate that mystery.

Over the years I’ve had lots of opportunities to solve problems/mysteries as a child protective service worker, geriatric case manager, professional guardian, and emergency responder nights and weekends for vulnerable adults. These days, while I do still work one night a week and one weekend a month as an emergency responder for vulnerable adults, my main goal is to figure out how to reduce or eliminate the everyday mysteries in my life.

www.JudithAshleyRomance.com

www.JudithAshley.blogspot.com

www.FreeReadsFromTheGenre-istas.blogspot.com

© 2012 Judith Ashley

Who Took My iPhone...

I’ve been on holiday the last few days. It’s the school holidays here in New Zealand and I went up to the lovely wine growing region of the Hawke’s Bay. 

I had to laugh when I learned this month’s topic on Romancing the Genre’s blog was mysteries because I lost my iPhone in the Hawke’s Bay and I have no idea how.  

I’ve been busy cancelling sim cards and phones. As it turns out it’s a very expensive lesson for me. To replace my iPhone is around $900NZ! I got my iPhone FREE on a 24 month plan, which I’m locked into and I’m only 11 months in. So I have to buy a new phone. It might not be an iPhone. I’ll clarify that, unless my insurance comes to the party it won’t be an iPhone. I’m checking out my insurance as I type this.

So, I am facing my own little mystery, where did I lose it, and how did I lose it? Did someone steal it out of my bag? Curses on them if they did!

I much prefer being an author writing a mystery into my stories, than being an author facing my own personal mystery in real life. I’m pretty certain I’ll never solve the mystery of my missing iPhone. It’s gone. BIG SIGH.

I do write historical romantic suspense. Mysteries or suspense in a romance story lifts the game. Not only are the couple facing relationship issues, there is usually someone, or something, set on ensuring they never find their happy ever after. It raises the stakes, the tension, and the satisfaction at the end.

I do love writing romantic suspense type stories. My latest Regency historical romance, To Challenge the Earl of Cravenswood (due out late October 2012), is a Cinderella type romance. Here’s the blurb:

To live happily ever after...
Henry St. Giles, the Earl of Cravenswood, longs to find his soul mate. Now that his two best friends, both reformed rakes, are happily married, the need becomes an obsession. When they challenge him to find a wife by the end of the season or marry his neighbor, the innocently alluring Lady Amy Shipton, he can’t believe his luck. He wins, either way.  But a darkened garden, a case of mistaken identity, a drunken kiss, and a dropped emerald earring, leads Henry on a Cinderella hunt. He knows the woman he held in his arms could be the one he's searched for all his life. He just has to find her.

Lady Amy Shipton is determined to marry for love instead of sharing her husband like her mother did. So why did she let her handsome neighbor and romantic fantasy, the Sinful Saint as he's called for his bedroom prowess, seduce her in his garden? And what can she do when in the middle of their passionate encounter; he whispers another woman's name. Now Henry is hunting the owner of the earring Amy left behind, and she's determined to retrieve it before her identity is revealed. She's not about to give her father the ammunition he desperately wants to force her down the aisle.

Can you see the high-jinx involved here? I love that Henry and Amy are at crossed purposes. Of course we know it all ends happily ever after, but the mystery, the cat and mouse game, and the hoops they both have to jump through builds the story up and makes for an extremely satisfying ending.

Do you like a bit of suspense or mystery in your books? If so, why? Have you ever lost anything and been stumped as to how?

A Real Life Mystery: Proof Positive Truth Is Stranger than Fiction

By Robin Weaver

I’ve always known my family is strange…literally.  My grandfather’s name was Fern Hall Strange and I’ve traced his ancestry back to twelfth century Britain.  What I haven’t been able to decipher is what really happened with Gramps’ uncle, Noverta.
Great-Uncle Noverta “allegedly” killed his wife.  I say allegedly because Gramps was a no-nonsense sort of fellow who could call bullshh…eh, who didn’t let emotion cloud his rather superior judgment.  Since my grandfather didn’t believe Noverta was guilty, I have to presume innocence despite evidence to the contrary.

Here’s the thing.  The murder isn’t the mystery.  The strange twist (pun intended) in this tale is what happened after the conviction. 

What follows is strictly hearsay…
Shortly after Noverta’s incarceration in Jackson, Mississippi’s Parchment Prison, our hero/villain escaped from his cell.   Supposedly, the guards were bribed (now you know what happened to my family’s fortune J).  Our con somehow made his way to Colorado where he assumed a new identity--John Quincy Adams.  Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.  Under this pseudonym, Noverta remarried, sired five children, and get this, became the deputy sheriff.  No, really.

Our tale gets stranger still.  Noverta worked his way up to sheriff and flaunted his tin star for almost thirty years.  According to some sources, there was a deathbed confession, followed by a Time or a Life Magazine article.  I’ve done extensive research, yet have been unable to find any news story about Noverta.

Here’s the part of the mystery I unraveled.  What follows is factual.

With some extensive research (and a lot of luck), I found another person looking for Noverta.  The mystery woman was from—you guessed it--Colorado.  My fellow Noverta-stalker turned out to be Noverta’s granddaughter.  She was able to confirm Noverta had indeed been a sheriff, although she knew nothing about the murder (thus adding legitimacy to my suspicion that there was no magazine article).

Finding my distant cousin was an amazing thing, but finding the Adams side of the family tree enabled me to locate  Noverta’s nephew, Larry.  He told another story.

We’re back to hearsay, but believable hearsay…

The nephew told me the state of Colorado gave Noverta immunity.  He said Noverta’s wife committed suicide.  Noverta’s sons spent over $100,000 to clear their dad’s name, and eventually all charges were dropped.

I have not been able to confirm Larry’s story.  Being an author, I rather like the ending, although one might say it’s a bit convenient.  Hearing about my infamous great uncle spurred me to become a serious writer—maybe even a seriously strange one.  I’ll keep digging.  To coin a famous TV phrase, the truth is out there.

What about you?  Do you have any strange limbs in your family tree?




Blue Ridge Fear
Coming November 23rd
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TheWildRosePress.Com

The mystery is: when did I start writing mysteries?

I don't know when it happened. I don't read mysteries, as a rule. Once, in a book club, I had to read a compilation of Father Brown stories by G. K. Chesterton. These obscure classics were written between 1910 and 1936 and published as installments in a periodical. The protagonist is a stubby British priest who solves mysteries by observation and mental acuity.

And also by coincidence which--to be honest--plays a part in the resolution of almost all mystery stories. The problem with those little stories is that some critical bit of information was always withheld from the reader, making it next to impossible for the reader to solve the mystery on their own.

Needless to say, that little omission did not make me happy. In fact, it pissed me off.

As humans, we want to figure things out. We like the challenge of being smarter than the hero--or at least as smart as. We want to share that "A-ha!" moment with the characters we have been walking so closely with through the story.

So when I ended up unexpectedly writing mysteries, I knew I couldn't do the same thing to my readers that Chesterton did to his.

Luckily, I'm a plotter. I write my stories in a straight line. That means I can scatter the clues through the story as I write it. Assuming I know what those clues are, of course.

The funny thing is, once I made the decision to write a crime/suspense/mystery story I realized that all of my previous stories encompassed crimes, suspense, or mysteries. I had been doing this all along.

Huh. Who knew.

Anyway, if I think about it, I guess I can trace this all back to my hatred of math. Algebra, to be specific. (And long division. I always hated long division.) But when we got to geometry and proofs, I was in heaven. I thought that finding the steps from here to there--all small steps in the path to the solution--was so much fun!

This wasn't boring old arithmetic, it was a mystery to solve. A puzzle where pre-described steps had to be laid out in a logical sequence in order for the ending to make sense.

Awesome!

So now I see my mysteries as geometric proofs. Little steps which, when connected in the correct order, lead a path to the resolution. This makes the plotting of the crime detection so much easier to structure. And it explains why I was writing them long before I consciously knew what I was doing.

Now that I'm here, I guess the next mystery question is: why is there a dead body behind the study wall?

I'll let you know as soon as I do.

The Vanishing Man by Paty Jager

Growing up, we had a close friend of the family who was a 60+-year-old bachelor. Louie umpired Little League and Babe Ruth baseball games and rode for ranches. He'd take my brothers and I on his trips checking on cattle in the mountains. He'd arrive bright and early in the morning and load us and our horses up and head to the area that he had to check out. Those were fun days riding the mountain sides and checking on cattle.

He also would umpire the Babe Ruth tournament in Milton-Freewater, Oregon every summer. As each one of my siblings and I became old enough to drive, he'd take us along. He'd drive over, umpire all day, and we'd drive him home. It was a two hour drive through a mountain pass. But it was the end of summer and the only unsavory conditions would be rain.

The summer it was my turn to drive, I rode over with Louie, sat reading a book while he worked all day at the tournament, and then I slid under the steering wheel to drive home when  the game was over. Louie tossed his gear in the back of his hatchback, eased his bulk down into the passenger seat, and asked me to hand him is spit can. He was a true cowboy. He chewed tobacco and everything he owned, car, trailer, clothes, even his horse and dog smelled like the sweet stench of chewing tobacco, so just sitting in one of his vehicles with a can full of spit was enough to gag a person, but we endured because he was fun to be around.

We left Milton-Freewater after dark. Before I even turned on the road that took us over the mountain pass, Louie was snoring in the passenger seat. I was buzzing along(I'm noted as being the lead foot of the family) when I drove into dense fog.  A man shuffled across the road. His clothes were torn, his hair long and shaggy. Before I could hit the brakes, I drove through him. My heart pound in my chest and boomed in my ears as I pushed on the brakes.

Louie stirred. "What was it a deer?"

I swallowed and said, "Yeah."  How was I to explain I saw/hit a man that disappeared. I slowly picked up speed and stared in the rear-view mirror. The more I tried to visualize the man, I realized he had been colorless, gray, with a light shining around his form.

Years later as I researched the Whitman Massacre, a chill ran up my spine and I have often wondered, could he have been one of the men killed during that ill-fated altercation?

www.patyjager.net
www.patyjager.blogspot.com