Now let's get on to the interview!
1. When you hear "Valentine's Day", what do you immediately think of?
Chocolate, flowers, and pink. Lots and lots of pink.
2. Besides your own, who are some book boys you find swoony?
My first book boyfriend was definitely George Cooper from Tamora Pierce's Alanna series. I love that swarthy rogue! Other favorites are definitely Joscelin Verreuil from Jacquelyn Carey's Kushiel saga, Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher's Dresden Files series, Ian O'Shea from Stephenie Meyer's The Host, and there are definitely others, but I think that's a diverse enough list for now. ;)
3. What inspired you to write Sing Sweet Nightingale?
Music! And a friend of mine asking the right question at the right time.
My friend Lani Woodland asked me to submit a short story to an anthology of paranormal YA. The problem? I didn't have one. With her request in mind, I went to work one morning and while still half asleep heard two songs play back to back: "Mariella" from the album Made of Bricks by Kate Nash and "Creation Lake" from the album Pikul by Silversun Pickups. The lyrics from the two songs somehow collided in my head to build the idea of a girl named Mariella who had chosen not to speak and had been granted access to a world that only existed in the 25th hour of the day. The novel version of Sing Sweet Nightingale developed from that original short story.
4. What's your favorite thing about being a writer?
Not having to grow up! Although I still have to do things like pay the bills and feed myself and whatever, writing (especially writing YA) gives me permission from the world to keep at least half of my mind from fully embracing "adulthood." I really love that. I also love the rush of discovering a new character and digging into their head to figure out what makes them tick. That part is pretty fabulous, too. The psychology major in me coming out to play. ;)
5. Do you like paranormal romances? If so, which being would you prefer to be with if you had to choose? ;)
There's something enticing about taking something that is already powerful (falling in love) and literally giving it extrasensory/otherworldly/extraterrestrial abilities. It brings all of the emotion and the risk and the passion to an exponentially higher level, which can be a lot of fun. If I was going to fall for a being from a paranormal romance, though, I think I'd like it to be a vampire like one of the Cullens from Twilight. Not literally one of the Cullens, just a vampire like them. The whole immortality thing combined with eternal devotion is really appealing.
Bookish questions:
1. What was the hardest part of writing Sing?
Mariella. Hands down. As much as the book changed in the editing process (and please believe me when I say it changed a LOT), Mariella probably went through the largest transformation. I had such a hard time getting a handle on her at the beginning, but by the end of the process we finally managed to get along.
2. What are you most proud of with Sing?
Finally getting it right. Without making my editresses Danielle Ellison and Patricia Riley want to murder me. Revisions were a long, arduous process and I think we were all insanely happy when the last piece finally clicked into place.
3. When people read your book, what do you want them to take from it?
There's no way to answer this. I definitely hope people find the book entertaining and enjoyable, but every reader will take something different away from it. Which is exactly how it should be. Everyone will connect with a different character for a different reason
4. Who is your favorite character from Sing and why? If you don't have a favorite, who was the easiest to write and why?
While, of course, Mariella and Hudson have carved huge places in my heart, I have a soft spot for Horace, an old man who is kind of like Hudson's fairy godfather, and Dawn, a fourteen-year-old girl who works in a rather awesome New Age store. Both of those characters popped onto the page with incredibly distinct voices and personalities and backstories and then they refused to leave. They were supposed to be minor characters, but in each draft their roles expanded until they'd woven themselves into the whole series and refused to let go. I love them for that.
Ugh I just loved this interview! Such great answers! I hope you all enjoyed! Now we get to see the excerpt from Sing! I even helped pick it out for you guys!! It's a long, awesome one!
Excerpt:
“You almost won that time.” Orane rests his hands on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my neck. I close my eyes and lean against his chest, but the shivers running over my skin as his fingers trace patterns on my bare arms can’t distract me from the blatant lie of his statement.
“It wasn’t even close.”
“It was closer than before.” His cheek presses against mine, and I feel him smile.
He’s right, but at the same time, he isn’t. For ten years, we’ve played every game known to man and many no one on Earth has heard of. He always wins. It’s usually by a slim margin, but—no. Actually, it’s always by a slim margin. Like he’s holding himself back to make me think I have a chance of beating him.
From anyone else, it’d be patronizing. From Orane?
It’s a good thing I can’t resist a challenge. I smile and turn in his arms, sliding my hands up and around his neck. In a loose white shirt open to the chest, black pants, and boots, he looks like a pirate. Or the hero on the cover of one of my mother’s romance novels.
“If I asked you to let me win one night, would you?”
I run my fingers through his hair, relishing the satin-like softness of the strands.
“You might never forgive me if I did,” he says.
Smiling, I have to admit he’s right; I would hate it if he stopped challenging me. “Sometimes I think you know me better than I know me.”
“You are my favorite subject to study.” Orane settles his hand on the small of my back and pulls me closer. Which I don’t mind at all. He’s always so careful with me, keeping a tiny bit of distance between us. My pulse picks up speed. Maybe tonight will be different.
I trace the lines of his angular jaw, his dimpled chin, the exaggerated arch of his eyebrows. Orane stands patiently under my fingers, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips.
Turning his head, he kisses the tips of my fingers, and I lean into the soft caress.
“What else would you like to do, Mariella?” he murmurs against my hand. “We have some time before you must leave.”
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against him, breathing in his soft, floral scent. I hate thinking about leaving Paradise. Every night since two weeks before my eighth birthday, I’ve been invited into this dreamworld. And every night I have to leave again. It’s the leaving I hate most.
“We haven’t been to the opera hall yet,” I say.
Orane grins and leans down for a kiss. His touch sends a frisson of energy down my spine, and I can barely contain the desire to slip my hands under his linen shirt and finally explore the skin that has been forbidden to me for so long. But like each time since our first kiss two years ago, he gently pulls back, planting one last, light kiss on the tip of my nose.
“I hoped you would suggest that.”
He offers his arm. As I take it, the air around me shimmers, changing my riding clothes into a flowing, white lace dress, accented by a wide black belt with flowers decorating the front. I run my hand along the textured fabric and sweep my long blonde hair over my shoulder.
We walk along the shore of the lake, passing the towering willow tree and the orchard of cherry trees in full blossom, their flowers not simply the usual whites and pinks, but a wild rainbow of reds, blues, and golds. The sky above us is trapped in a perpetual twilight, never fully dark,
but never quite day.
In the distance is our destination, the opera hall he created for me years ago. The cream-colored marble is carved in intricate designs, and the dark wooden doors stand open. I don’t have to close my eyes to picture the interior. I helped him design it all.
Statues stand in nooks along the walls, and hundreds of seats covered in red velvet fill the auditorium. A luxuriously soft, black-velvet curtain hangs from the proscenium arch, and despite the empty orchestra pit, the finest music I’ve ever heard will rise into the air the moment I begin to sing.
Once we’re inside, Orane tells me about the modifications he’s made to the acoustics—the better to amplify my natural talent, he promises. He leads me through the door, down the aisle of the auditorium, and up to the stage. Once I’m in place, he retreats into the darkness of the orchestra seats, his face lost under the glow of the stage lights.
“What will you have tonight, monsieur?” I ask, sinking into a deep curtsey. “Opera? Jazz? Contemporary folk?”
“Sing a song about love,” he calls.
“That narrows it down to about all of them.” I laugh, standing straight and mentally sifting through my repertoire. “At least give me a style.”
“In the style of Etta James then,” he replies. “So long as you sing, nightingale, I do not care.”
Etta James? Perfect. I concentrate on “At Last,” my favorite of her songs, and the invisible orchestra begins to play, the opening chords rising into the air around me.
I take a deep breath, and my voice rises up, carrying the song to the farthest reaches of the theater. Pushing the boundaries of the melody, I take it higher and higher, pouring myself into the song and giving it to Orane. My performances are a gift. My gift for him. I sing for hours,
flowing from R&B to pop to folk to opera to alternative. I sing until my throat burns and my hands are shaking.
As the echoes of my last song fade from the air, the house lights rise. Orane is standing in the center of the orchestra seats, applauding, but the warmth of his approval can’t mask the tug under my ribs, the breathlessness that hits me and gets worse with each second. Orane approaches the stage, climbing the center steps and gliding toward me with his hands outstretched.
“Time to go already?” I ask the question, hoping the answer is no.
Orane nods and brushes my hair behind my ear, then leans forward to kiss my cheek. “It is only a day. You will be back tomorrow night.”
To my right, the portal opens—a doorway of glowing white light around a darkness so black it seems solid—but I ignore it, holding onto the dreamworld as long as possible.
“Remember your promise, my sweet nightingale,” he whispers.
Sighing, I roll my eyes. “Every night, Orane? It’s been years. I remember.”
Orane smiles. “Yes. Every night. Your silence is too important to take a chance. If anyone else in your world should discover this one, the consequences would be dire. The war that ravaged this land two centuries ago—”
“Killed thousands until we closed off the borders,” I finish for him. It’s a story I know better than the history of my own world. It’s been my bedtime story for ten years. And after I almost slipped four years ago and spilled my secret to my parents, making this promise to Orane was easy. Necessary. “I would never risk your life, Orane. I know what’s at stake. Talking isn’t more important than protecting you.”
I lift my hand to his cheek and repeat the vow I made four years ago and have fought against instinct to keep all this time. “I promise, my love. Not a word.”
Cupping my face in his hands, he runs them through my hair and gently presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips are warm and soft, and his long hair brushes my cheek.
“For centuries, we kept the borders closed in fear of war. And then I saw a little girl through a window I kept open. A lonely, sad little girl with a light inside brighter than the sun.” He smiles and leans down until the tips of our noses touch. “So, I broke all the rules and brought her here to teach her what I know. Little did I know that I would discover a love I never thought I might find.”
“I got lucky.” Grinning, I lift up onto my toes and steal a quick kiss. “I only had to wait a few years.”
Orane’s smile grows, and he gives me one last kiss, soft and sweet and pure, before I turn and step through the portal.
I hope you enjoyed the excerpt! Does it make you want Sing even more? I hope so! I also hope you enjoyed this awesome post of awesomeness!
Thank you so much Erica for stopping by! It was a huge honor and joy to have you here! Hugs! You're made of awesome, you know that?
Now don't forget to stop by again tomorrow for another feature by another amazing person! I hope you all are enjoying this event as much as I am!!
Do you want a chance to win Sing or 10 other awesome prizes? Of course you do! Don't forget to enter the month long giveaway!
~Kayla~
I am usually not a big fan of this genre, but this sounds like it might be good!
ReplyDeleteI am really, really looking forward to reading this book. I might have squeed a little bit when I heard it had gone up on Netgalley, and of course requested it. I'm also looking forward to seeing those Dream Team banners I made used around the web. I'm still a little amazed that everyone loved them so much. :D
ReplyDeleteThanks for doing this awesome giveaway Kayla! :)