Christina Hagmann, Author of Stratagem

Today we are interviewing Christina Hagmann, author of “Stratagem,” a young adult suspense/fantasy novel.

Tell us a bit about yourself.
I grew up in rural Wisconsin, running through the woods and climbing trees. I’ve loved reading and writing my whole life which is why I became an English teacher. In fifth grade, while on a family vacation, I got in a bike accident and couldn’t leave the couch. My mom told me not to read the Stephen King book that she brought along, so of course I did. That was when I first really began to enjoy reading because I saw it as something “dangerous.” I also coach youth sports, basketball and volleyball, when I’m not reading and writing.

Describe the plot of your new book, “Stratagem,” in a few sentences.
Born a shapeshifter, Meda is a young girl in an unfortunate situation. Taken from her family, she is forced to be a spy for a secret agency, until she is kidnapped by three boys who are seeking revenge on the agency. 

Who do you think would most appreciate this book?
I think anyone who likes mystery and suspense, novels with a twist, and quick reads will like Stratagem. It’s a young adult novel but interesting enough for adults to enjoy. 

Tell us about the protagonist, Meda.
Meda is a young girl in an unfortunate situation. She’s a shapeshifter and is forced to be a spy. Up until her kidnapping, she feels she has no other options, but when things start falling apart, she realizes that she needs to be strong enough to make her own decisions and live with the consequences. It really is a coming-of-age story. 

Without giving too much away, what can you tell us about Meda’s kidnappers?
Meda’s kidnappers are three teenage boys: Brody, Aaron, and Dan. They aren’t just normal teenage boys though. Much like Meda, certain situations have forced them to do what they need to do to survive. 

Meda reaches a point where she has to make decisions for herself and move beyond her training to just follow orders. Can you tell us what her thought process is like when she makes this transition?
Meda has always felt that she never had a choice but to follow orders because her family is in danger. She never thought about all the people she may have hurt. When she realizes she has a choice, she finds it difficult to determine which decision is the right one. 

Your book is filled with suspense and other classic elements of an edge-of-your-seat thriller. Were you always interested in writing suspense? Or was it something that evolved alongside your writing?
I’ve always loved movies and novels with plot twists and suspense. I’m also a big fan of horror movies that keep you on the edge of your seat. I’ve always loved that feeling, and I wanted my readers to feel the same way. It’s the idea that books make it possible to experience the danger in the world without actually being in danger. 

What inspirations contributed to this book?
A couple years back, I wrote a short story about a young shapeshifter who took over the lives of the people she shifted into. In order to do that, she had to kill them. After writing the story, I realized that the poor shapeshifter didn’t have much of a choice it was the only way she knew how to live. It was at that time that I began to play with the idea of telling the story from a different perspective, through the eyes of the “bad guy” because really, a story is all about perspective. Stratagem really embodies that because it is difficult to tell difference between right/wrong and good/bad. 

Author Christina Hagmann.

Is there an author that had a major influence on your writing style?
I’ve been a fan of Stephen King since reading Tommyknockers in the 5th grade. I also loved the writing style of Dean Koontz. I began collecting his books in 7th grade and had nearly 40 of them. Both King and Koontz write with amazing imagery and are able to set up unsuspecting plot twists. 

Who was your favorite character to write?
While I enjoyed Meda, Brody, and Dan, Isi was probably my favorite. She’s a wild card and it’s hard to guess what she’ll do next. She is always in survival mode, and you can bet that she’ll do what will benefit her. 

What are your goals as a writer for the next ten years?
I would love to put a book out every year. I’d love to do some school visits and engage young adults as readers. One of my passions is to pass on my love of reading to others, but I also love the process of creating a book by starting with an idea. I’ve been a pretty productive writer for the last ten years and I’d like to continue that.. 

How have your readers responded to the book so far?
So far the response has been amazing! I’ve heard from most readers that they just can’t put it down. There’s been a lot of questions around the second book, and I do have it outlined, so when readers ask when the next one is due out, that’s the only response I can give right now. 

Have you ever had writer's block? If yes, how'd you deal with it? If you have not had writer's block, why do you think you haven't?
I don’t really get “writer’s block.” I’m an outliner, so I always have multiple projects with outlines. Because of this, I’m able to skip around from scene to scene rather than tell a story chronologically. It’s easier to pick a scene that inspires me rather than try to work through a scene that I can’t quite picture. 

What do you have in mind for your next project?
I have a book coming out in winter of 2019 called The Brothers Finn. It’s another young adult fantasy about two brothers who are framed for the murder of their parents. It’s another fast paced, quick read with plenty of plot twists for readers to enjoy. 

Is there anything else you'd like potential readers to know about your book?
Many people have asked about the title. The title is actually an allusion that comes up later in the book and is important to the plot. 

An excerpt from “Stragegem”: 

“They’re coming,” the blond yelled out. The boy holding me pulled me around to the back of the car. Everything seemed to be taking so long, but only a matter of seconds had passed. There was a click, and the trunk popped open. “Quick, put her in.” The blond boy held a gun up. I squinted towards the rusty vehicle and the dark interior of the trunk.  

“No!” I kicked, struggling for words, and jerked my head back, trying to hit the dark-haired boy who was holding me, but he was bigger than me, and my head only thumped harmlessly against his chest. My kicks were useless. I couldn’t connect with anything. I tried to twist around, but he had a firm grip and was not letting go.  

“The cuffs!” the blond boy yelled. The driver of the car, who I couldn’t see, tossed something out the open window, but it missed its mark and clattered to the ground. Gunshots rang through the air. I flinched and stopped struggling, not sure who was firing. The dark-haired boy stopped and looked back long enough for me to see the men from the van running at us and firing their weapons.  

“Help!” I screamed. It occurred to me that if they were willing to open fire, then maybe the target, Mr. Gray, no longer mattered to them. Maybe the assignment was void and they would have to go with Plan B, which was riskier and had a higher mortality rate. That was what I was told going into this, warning what would happen if I failed or refused to follow through. More importantly, they didn’t need me for Plan B. 

I kicked again, but the boy holding me was too strong. The blond held the trunk open as the dark-haired boy lifted my legs in. He fumbled with me as I used my legs to push off the edges of the trunk, or whatever I could get my feet on. Instead of losing his grip on me, he pushed himself forward and folded himself over me. With his weight heavy against my back, he forced me down and hopped in the trunk with me. More gunshots fired. Bullets pinged off the side of the car. The trunk closed, wrapping everything in darkness.

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Richard Titus, Author of The Gift of Quoxxel

Today we are interviewing Richard Titus about his YA fantasy novel The Gift of Quoxxel.

Tell us a bit about yourself.
Your “basic, garden variety, introverted arts nerd” about sums it up.  My mother recalls that I was “always making something.”  With my dad’s tutelage, that included, among other things, assorted models (both wood and plastic), a crystal radio set, an eleven-foot sailboat (we never quite finished) and anything we could cut out on the jigsaw and hammer together in Dad’s basement workshop.  On our own, my siblings and I were often sprawled on the floor, hard at work with paper, pencils and crayons.

My interests were always in visual arts, music and language.  The language interest was first put to use when I received Russian language training in the Air Force.  Having seldom been outside of the Midwest, a three year tour in West Berlin was an education in of itself.

After the Air Force, I studied at Massachusetts College of Art in Boston and worked a few years doing illustration and graphic design.  Fast forward a few years and I found myself in the lovely Garden State, close enough to experience Manhattan without having to be a full-time resident.

Language played a role in my life again about this time.  I met a Ukrainian couple who had, at that time, been in the States about two years.  We agreed to an “tutoring exchange” arrangement – they would help me learn more Russian and I would teach them English.  To give you the Reader’s Digest condensed version, I’ll just say that I met my wife Marina through this couple (who just happened to be her aunt and uncle).

There have been many extreme and convoluted happenings along the way but that is your basic freeze-dried, just add water condensed version of the art nerd from Michigan. 

Describe your new book in a few sentences.
King Norr of Nibb was not content.  He longed to know of the world beyond his tiny, island kingdom.  Why travel elsewhere, his people said. What place could possibly be more perfect than Nibb?

What frustrated Norr even more, outsiders never came to Nibb.  Foreign ships approached, hesitated, then sailed away.  Why was that?

And that wasn't the only mystery.

Who was the little girl who sang, but would not speak?

What kind of monster lurked in the bay?

Had Dr Hinkus been devoured by woolly drumbkins?

And most importantly, what’s for lunch?

Drearily perfect Nibb was about to turn upside down.  As King Norr often said, it's enough to give one "haddocks."

What inspired you to write this book?
This was the process of "writing a story backwards."  First, you start with an illustration and then write a story around it.

It all started with this painting -- The Return of the Quoxxel anticipated by the citizens of Nibb  --       a 16 x 20 inch oil painting on panel finished in 2005.

I had no idea of a story when I did this painting, yet, the image suggested it represented an event “somewhere."  Apparently, it was up to me to write about it. 

After much trial and error, I arrived at the end product -- The Gift of the Quoxxel.

Who was your favorite character to write?
They were equally fun but the most challenging had to be the pirate characters.  As they were based somewhat in historical reality, I researched The Golden Age of Pirates (approximately 1660-1730) for background details and jargon of the day.

What was the creative process like for you?
Trial and error.  That is, pursue one plot path, see where it leads.  Doggedly slogging through that jungle brings one finally to a rewarding end.

It says in your biography that you have written a lot of material, but never had it published. Do you intend to share this work in the future?
Most of what I have written is song lyrics for melodies I composed.

I read an interview with Judy Collins once where she expressed that song lyrics are not poetry.  This may be true for most pop music, but the approach I took was to write words that had their own value independent of music. 

That being said, I’m not highly trained in music theory, so I’m in the process of having a transcriber write the sheet music from recordings I provide her.  I hope to put all the songs into a collection if only to have a permanent record of them.

Is there an author that had a major influence on you while you were growing up?
I don’t recall any one author having a major influence on me.  It was adventure enough reading Mark Twain or the various books offered by our community “bookmobile.”  I recall the Hardy Boys and Tom Swift filling our home book shelves at one time.  There was always something interesting to read about the house.
   
What do you have in mind for your next project?
I’m sketching out another story set in Nibb.  Core characters will be back, new characters will show up.  Nibb, as it turns out, is a sort of Nexxus for weirdness.  And, as King Norr says, “If you like that sort of thing, then that’s the sort of thing you like.”

Is there anything else you'd like potential readers to know about your book?
I intend to add more illustrations and possibly some more music to “The Quoxxel” and the abilities of Kindle can be thanked for that.

I’m not sure how many people know that, once purchased, the Kindle book can be updated for free to receive a revised edition.  One need only contact customer service and request an “update” free of charge.  I’ll be posting on The Gift of the Quoxxel Facebook page when a revision is available at which time an owner of the book can call customer service and request the update.

With Kindle, we may have lost the homey, tactile quality of the paper book, but, we’ve gained other book qualities that were heretofore never imagined.

Book Excerpt
To read an excerpt of The Gift of Quoxxel, go to: http://www.richard-titus.com/GotQ-01.htm.

More Information
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The Gift of Quoxxel on Amazon 

Sahar Sabati, Author of Spirit Within Club

Today we are interviewing Sahar Sabati, author of the middle grade / young adult book Spirit Within Club.
 
Describe the plot of your new book in a few sentences. 
The second volume in the Spirit Within Club series continues where the first one left off; the characters are still trying to figure out how to make the world a better place.  But they are a year older; emotions are becoming weightier, responsibilities are slowly increasing, and injustices strike closer to the heart.

What made you decide to write a book about finding the “spirit within” when faced with obstacles?
Drama seems to be the primary plot booster nowadays, be it in books, music, movies, or television shows.  It gives the impression that the world is fuelled by drama when really, it isn’t.  Similarly, a lot of attention is given to negative news; why is there so much about the bad choices that preteens and teenagers make and not more on the ones making the difficult, good choices?  And, finally, there is a focus on the world being saved by a Messiah-like figure armed with superpowers—from Harry Potter to Superman.  But the world is fuelled by the daily, often menial but still vital actions of the billions of regular people that live on this planet; if anyone is going to save us, it is those of us who tap into the spirit within.

Who do you think would most appreciate this book?
Anyone who looks at the state of the world and feels helpless, whatever their age may be, will end up cheering for the characters in this series as they struggle to learn how to make a positive mark.  I also hope that it will inspire them to continue giving it their all.

Who was your favorite character to write?
Two of the characters are loosely based on my sisters; they were by far the most fun to write!

What is your favorite book and why?
I do not have an overall favorite book; I have a favorite “book of the moment” which currently is Jennifer Niven’s "All the Bright Places."  If you haven’t read it, you should.  It’s beautiful, inspiring, and will raise your awareness about a very real challenge we are facing: depression and suicide.

What genre do you read most frequently?
I tend to read a lot of non-fiction books based on whatever topic has piqued my curiosity.  I also love Young Adult and Women’s Fiction, and also regularly pick up books from the Mystery, Literature, and Sci-Fi shelves of the library.

How do you think you've evolved as a writer since when you first started?
I started writing when I was ten years-old; I had no idea what life was about and consequently, all my stories had massive plot holes in them!  I would like to think I have become better at tightening those.

How do you feel about the increasing popularity of e-books?
Electronic books are wonderful!  While paper books remain my preferred option, e-books make reading more accessible on so many levels.  Anyone around the world with a smartphone can download an app and start reading, enlightening the thirsty minds of people around the world who would otherwise have no access to books.  It is also a lot easier to carry around a couple of books at the same time without hurting one’s shoulder!

What are your goals as a writer for the next ten years?
I would like to finish the seven volumes of the Spirit Within Club series; I would like to see it continue being used in Brazil as part of an empowerment programme, as well as spread to other countries in the world.  I also am going to write a couple of young adult books (one is already in the works!) as well as some women’s fiction books (again, one is already in the works!)  I hope that with every new book that I complete, my writing will have become significantly better and an increasing number of readers will be inspired.

Is there anything else you'd like potential readers to know about your book?
The first volume in the Spirit Within Club series is currently being used by a non-governmental organization in its empowerment programme for preteens between the ages of 12 and 15.  It is a dream come true: to be able to contribute to the betterment of society through writing so directly!

Thank you for the opportunity to be interviewed for Writers' Interviews; I love hearing from readers, so if you pick up Spirit Within Club, please drop me a line on my Facebook page!

An excerpt from Spirit Within Club:

`Zafirah?’ 

She shook her head. 

`I’m very dizzy,’ she whispered. 

`I’ll take her to the infirmary,’ said the teacher, picking Zafirah up. `You all stay put until I come back, you hear? I want the two heads of class to make sure no one misbehaves.’
Silence fell until the teacher had disappeared into the school. 

`Poor Zafirah,’ said Laura in a mocking voice. `If she didn’t have to wear that ridiculous getup . . .’ 

I don’t like Laura. She isn’t the nicest person around. She and her group are some of the people who tease Zafirah constantly. 

`Stop it,’ I snapped at her. 

`And why would I?’ Laura said. 

`Because you shouldn’t talk like that about someone who is so devoted to her faith,’ Egan said in a calm, soothing voice. `You should do your best to help her.’ 

`Why?’ Laura said, looking disgusted by the suggestion. `I’m not Muslim. I’m Christian. I don’t wear head scarves. I don’t think that it’s part of worshiping God. Mom says it’s a form of repression that keeps women from achieving equality with men. I don’t have to support it.’ 

`No, you don’t,’ agreed Egan. `But although we are all different and worship God in our own way, the spirit within is the same. That’s why you should be supportive of Zafirah because she is worshiping the same God as you, but in her own way.’ 

Arwen gasped. 

`What?’ I asked, worried. 

`That’s it,’ he said. `That’s the perfect name!’ 

`What name?’ I repeated. I really didn’t know what he was talking about. 

`The perfect name for our club,’ Arwen said. `The Spirit Within!’

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Aaron Majewski, Co-Author of Bedmonsters Are Cool

Today we are interviewing Aaron Majewski, co-author of the young adult fantasy book Bedmonsters Are Cool.
 
Tell us a bit about yourself.
Well, I am the author of several self-published novels mostly of the humor or 'monster' variety; as well as screenplays, stageplays and short stories. I am from Winnipeg Manitoba, and I have a mild dislike of (otherwise known as hate) the ice and snow, so that um, well I get by somehow during the winters!

Describe the plot of your new book in a few sentences.
Basically a young lady rips a hole in time in space, unleashing her very own personal bedmonster on herself and her friends. Then she must come to terms with her heritage of witchcraft while working out how to stuff him back through that tear and close it up... all while definitely not falling in love with her best friend.

You know, classic coming of age stuff.

What made you decide to write a Young Adult fantasy novel?
I enjoy the genera, it gives me as an author the opportunity to explore ideas and situations which would only merit a passing mention in more 'mature' settings, and really is just fun to write.

Who do you think would most appreciate this book?
Anyone who likes their fantasy with a dash (or three) or humor, from teens to adults it has a little something for everyone.

What was it like writing with your co-author, Lorain O’Neil?
Lorain is a joy to work with, I think we complement each others strengths as writers (she loves to edit…as in slash and burn entire pages, and I hate editing)

She also pushes me to be a better writer; more in depth characterization, more on the nose dialog without being too ham fisted about it, just better polished work all around.

Who was your favorite character to write?
Oh Bedmonster, he or it as it were, was the perfect foil to the ‘strightman’ of Becca’s love interest.

What do you have in mind for your next project?
Lorain and I are working on a new fantasy novel, Terabithia, about a young woman's quest to find a mystical key which will put aright what has gone awry after the worlds of Fey and Humans collide.

Is there anything else you'd like potential readers to know about your book?
This book will absolutely positively without a doubt change your life in every single way!

Ok I am just kidding, sorry, but honestly it is just a good fun read. Sit down and spend the weekend with bedmonster’s antics, you will start your Monday with a smile on your face (and if not I don’t do refunds)

A Short Excerpt from Bedmonsters Are Cool, Chapter One:

He was hungry. He was very hungry. He was so HUNGRY.

The gnawing in his hunger-arm was a physical pain and had been for some time, he could no longer remember the last time he’d had a good meal, let alone been full.

The hunger drove him onward, made it impossible to be still. Loud rumbles from his eating-hands filled the air as he padded through the darkness of the Dust Bunny Caverns. The air was heavy and still and reeked of unwashed socks, moldy breadcrumbs (which his sub-species couldn’t digest), decomposing homework, and the acidic taint of Atomic Jazz.

Around him his sound-gathering arms detected the rustles of others of his kind, while his vibration-hairs detected the soft currents of the subworld’s power grid, the magical energy that filled his world and made the impossible probable. His seeing-hands could see nothing now though, because he was too hungry to manipulate light. Relentlessly he pushed on through the darkness on his walking-arms, searching, searching for anything that might sustain him for just a little longer.

His skin-shedder no longer believed in him or anything else that might come through a Door; he’d been unable to gather sustenance in that way for a very long time now and he was

reduced to trolling through the dregs of what drifted through Doors opened by others.

As he prowled through the caverns, BedMonster 1137465893 left his own kind behind, far behind, and moved into the unknown in his quest for food. This was a danger, for who knew what lurked within the darkness of the underworld? Who knew what prowled and stalked and waited for prey? But his kind were hunters, snatchers, and he knew no fear, being the greatest of his kind… okay, so no one else might have thought he was the greatest, but heck, what did they know?

BedMonster’s smelling-hands caught a whiff of something different, something that smelled like fear, and he was instantly alert. His prowling turned almost into a gallop as he climbed the cavern wall, running towards a small dark opening high above he wasn’t sure he was really even seeing. Reaching it, he entered into a low tunnel on his stalking-hands and began probing ahead with his snatching-arms outstretched, his long-corded muscles rippling, attesting to the power of his grip, the expert finality of his snatch.

He’d found something like a Gate into the Real, yet it was different. Too hungry to make his own light yet, he nevertheless saw ahead of him a golden glow emanating from a Gate-like disturbance of air. Gates did not normally glow... perhaps he should be worried about that he thought suspiciously.

Too late.

As he approached the Gate-thing, the golden glow suddenly turned dark red, a color that cried danger and the swirling pattern of disturbance became faster, faster, while the fear scent turned to one of triumph!

And then the light turned green.

*****

She’d friggin’ found it! Becca had exactly six and a half minutes left to get dressed, pack her book bag, get to the bus stop, but she’d found it. No way was she going to high school without her cell.

“Get your ass moving!” her father bellowed from downstairs.

Make-up had to be forgotten (damn), clothes (had she worn these yesterday?) thrown on in abandon, algebra book dispensed with (she’d share Carlie’s who’d hate that but toughola) and she flew. Passing her father pulling out of the driveway to take Normie to daycare and himself to work, she raced toward the bus stop.

She missed it.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, she fumed. Rebecca Ann Westin you are such an idiot! What do I do now?

She walked slowly back to the empty house, defeated, entering its silence, weighing alternatives. She could call her Dad (No!) or she could... just stay home? Who would know? That mattered? She caught a glance of herself in the hall mirror and thought no one’ll probably even notice.

She was not pretty she knew, too tall, too gangly, with way too curly boring brown hair that refused to do anything sensible. One consolation, she had gotten rid of those godawful braces last year. Her teeth were white and straight now and she was going to make darn sure they stayed that way. (She loved her dentist. She hated her dentist.) Good teeth or not though, even with her mother’s assurances that her blue eyes were striking (even when she wore her glasses) and she was going to be beautiful, it hadn’t happened in sixteen years and she had her doubts.

I can just spend the day at home she moped in resignation. Alone.

And then Becca heard a noise upstairs.

*****

This is stupid, this is STOO-PID, she chanted through gritted teeth as she pushed open her bedroom door. The room was a mess of course (she being a teenager, Mom being away, and Dad being, well, Dad) and anything could be hiding anywhere. She gripped her mother’s old golf club and slowly entered the room.

A soft rustling and quiet thumping came from under the bed, its unmade sheets dangling onto the floor obscuring her view underneath.

Oh crap, she cringed, some rabid, chittering, gibbering (or worse, salivating) thing is gonna shoot right outta there and go straight for my ankles. I should call someone, but... I’m skipping school, they’re not exactly gonna be sympathetic.

From as far away as she could manage, Becca thrust out the club and gingerly lifted the fabric.

Okay, breathe now... get down on one knee and just look.

Nothing was there unless you counted massive dust bunnies and small mounds of discarded pantyhose... oh, so that’s where those went.

And then... at the very back, against the wall, something stirred. A hiss, something uncoiling in the shadows.

“DON’T KILL ME!” Becca shrieked. The hiss and the movement ceased abruptly, leaving her unsure whether she had actually even heard them in the first place.

Then something moved, maybe even... glittered?

There’s definitely something there, she decided grimly, it’s suspended off the floor and it’s swaying in the breeze from the air vent. And you know there’s only one way you’re gonna find out what that something is. I am so dead, I am so dead, I am... stop that, you are a big girl.

Carefully, slowly, Becca slid the golf club toward the glimmering darkness. The club met a soft resistance.

GIANT FREAKIN’ COBWEBS! FROM GIANT FREAKIN’ SPIDERS!

Don’t be a moron.

Becca started swishing the club back and forth and found herself getting angry.

Oh show yourself you—

Instantaneously a sparkle of soft golden light appeared and whirled around Becca’s golf club. A sinewy arm shot out of the faintly glittering light, sporting a purplish-gray six-fingered hand that clamped down on the club and pulled. Becca screamed so loudly that her vocal cords nearly ripped, and as she was yanked under the bed the thought that ricocheted through her horror-struck brain was I’m gonna die FOR CUTTING SCHOOL?

Another followed dimly on its heels: Does this mean I can skip the lecture for not making my bed?

*****

The light enwrapped him, melding against his body like a coating of paint, which was not normal for any usual Gate, certainly nothing like a Door. It seeped along his hair coating his hands, his arms, grasping him firmly, carrying him along. BedMonster sensed fear, knew he approached prey, but that prey seemed oddly angered and confused as well. He couldn’t process what was happening to him. A vague shape appeared in the distance and BedMonster 1137465893 reached out to it, heard a scream, a scream that vibrated throughout the small world that was his Gate-like encompassment. He grasped that dark shape and pulled, felt it drag against the palm of one of his snatching-hands trying to get away, trying to leave him behind. He knew that would lead to his dissolution so immediately he twisted, slowly birthing into a small dark space.

The scream echoed around him and he reached out with all his senses, contacting the prey, bounding towards it eagerly. He was under a bed, his natural striking place, and he knew exactly what to do. He careened into the human, hands snaking around and grasping firmly, finding all those places he liked to strike, and scooped up great globules of his sustenance as the prey screamed and struggled beneath him. He had not fed this well in years.

But something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

It was Day, in the Real.

Bedmonsters didn’t do Day.

BedMonster whimpered and fled.

*****

The overlarge hand seemed vaguely gorilla-like, gray-tinged, with purple embedded deeply in the tissue, and six large fingers almost human but for their immense size and strength. The hand clamped onto the golf club and pulled. Becca’s head and shoulders were yanked under the bed as she screamed.

HELL NO I AM NOT GOING UNDER THERE NO WAY! Slamming back on the club with all her might, Becca experienced a weird tingle surge down the back of her spine, across her shoulders and into her arms. The sensation streamed across her hands leaving a faint trace of heat and a metallic taste in the back of her throat. Something seemed to undulate down her arm, jump to the golf club, travel its shaft and flow into the golden light under the bed. The light changed to green, an emerald color like deep ocean, not a safe, soft green, but a dark, scary green, and a part of Becca’s mind whispered green means go, green means open.

Pulling hard, Becca struggled backwards and managed to rock herself back onto her haunches. Without warning the golf club was released and Becca found herself launched, flying across the bedroom landing on her rump, hearing the ominous crunch of her cell phone in her jeans pocket. And then the thing was upon her.

It was a ravenous beast, all hands, hot moist breath, powerful arms, and fur, fur everywhere as it pressed itself against her. Atop her. Pressing her down beneath its weight. It was rummaging she realized in stark petrified terror, it was looking for that perfect place to grip and tear.

And then it was gone.

The beast retreated with a soft cry, leaving Becca disheveled, trembling, but (to her bleak amazement) intact. Under the bed something moved and the light faded. Whatever had pounced on her was huddled under the foot of her bed trembling and whimpering. Becca squatted and edged nearer to gawp at the creature.

The thing under Rebecca Ann Westin’s bed was clearly some kind of animal; it had too many limbs (at least eight she could see) and was furred, about the size of a large dog. For one ridiculous moment Becca thought of her father’s Australian Terrier, Melvin, but this is no dog. The beast had orange-brown fur, oversized six-fingered hands ending in blunt fingernails something like a man’s but much bigger, and most certainly much stronger. Becca was sure the creature could have torn her to pieces if something hadn’t caused its hasty retreat back under the bed.

Becca stared directly at the monster’s eyes –it had two– both perfectly round, each rimmed in gold, but with centers the exact same blue as her own set into the palms of two hands!

BedMonster stared right back.

“What are you?” Becca croaked.

“What are you?” came the sneering response. Its voice was small, afraid, somewhat human, but decidedly not.

“You talk!” As the thing had no head, no clear front or back, this astonished Becca.

“Of course I talk! I’m a bedmonster! Now what are you?” it sniffled, its bravado seemed to be wavering, as if it were in pain.

“Bedmonster? As in nightmare-under-the-bed? But those are fairy stories, ghosts and goblins!”

“Bedmonsters are nothing like fairies, and certainly not like any smelly old goblin, and there are no such things as ghosts. Bedmonsters are the great hunters, the stealthy snatchers, we go where others fear to tread!”

Becca wanted to point out that the bedmonster was currently cowering and whimpering under her bed but that seemed somewhat impolite so she said instead, “You speak English.”

“And modern Greek, some provincial backwoods French, and Latin. Fluently. What’s your point?”

Now the thing was petulant.

“But what are you? I’m sorry, but I still don’t know what a bedmonster really is.”

“A bedmonster obviously is the thing you fear in the dark, the thing that creeps under your bed at night, so when you feel that silent shift of air and know there is a malevolence beneath you, you lie still and quiver and hope that my kind do not come for you.”

It sounded like it was quoting something, or someone, else. “Now again, what are you?” the beast demanded.

“I’m... a girl. My name’s Becca.”

The light about BedMonster seemed to flicker just for a moment, almost in excitement, when Becca said her name.

“Yessss,” it hissed. “You are. Well you are a nasty girl, a naughty girl, fearing me under your bed in Day, opening some weird-assed Gateish thing, drawing me here. Don’t you know bedmonsters shrivel up and die in sunlight?” The bedmonster now sounded aggrieved, and blinked its watery blue eyes once.

“Me? I didn’t bring you here.” It was then that Becca noticed BedMonster was slowly creeping toward her, staying well away from the slant of sunlight streaming in from her mullioned window. “What do you eat?” she demanded suspiciously.

“Human flesh. Specifically, when I can get it, yours.”

“ME?!!”

“Not you, the stuff that sloughs off you. Bedmonsters exist in an asymptomatic-symbiotic relationship with people.”

A whatsit now?

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” a voice demanded from behind Becca who jumped up so fast she actually whirled in midair.

“Aunt Andrea!”

“What were you doing down there?”

Becca was speechless, her eyes darted back to the bed but its sheets were once again dangling onto the floor.

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Interview with Serena Kearney, Author of Pneuma

Today we are interviewing Serena Kearney, author of the sci-fi / young adult romance novel
Pneuma.

Tell us a bit about yourself. 
I love straws! I love desserts...mmm red velvet! I love animals! My cat, Bongo-Bongo is majorly spoiled! I live in North Carolina, NC GIRL ALL THE WAY! Whoooop! I love to drink tea in the mornings and I love to watch movies and am an avid gamer! LOVE NINTENDO!

How long have you been writing?
 I have been dabbling on and off ever since the year 2000, but I didn’t start getting serious until around 2012. I didn’t start to think about really publishing until 2014.

Describe the plot of your new book in a few sentences. 
She does everything she can to protect the ones she loves. She finds out who her real family is. And she has to battle with herself to keep everyone else safe... from her.

Who do you think would most appreciate this book? 
Teenagers. Or anyone who loves sci-fi and an epic love story all in one!

What inspired you to write a young adult sci-fi romance? 
I have always loved any fiction, whether it be sci-fi, paranormal, magic, zombies, anything like that. I believe there is more out there, whether we all want to admit it or deny it. And romance... I am a SUCKER for romance and love stories! I just love falling in love with their relationships and seeing them grow and go through tough times, but still being there for each other. Because it’s like real life, real love. You have to go through those things, and if you are still together in the end, then you can get through anything together.

Who was your favorite character to write? 
Re-reading some of the stories, I would have said my main character Estelle Caldwell, but actually, I really like how I did Dennis. He can make you cry and laugh at the same time.

What genre do you read most frequently? 
Any type of love story, it HAS to have romance, otherwise I can’t focus. LOL! Any type of romance, whether it be dystopian, paranormal, or contemporary. I am ALL about it!

How do you think you've evolved as a writer since when you first started? 
Oh man... I remember my first draft... it was kind of horrible, but once I re-read it and evolved and re-wrote, I am actually satisfied now. I always find out that I still have a lot of growth to expand my writing more, but like I say, “the draft is never complete as long as the author lives.”

Are there any aspects of your writing that you've been practicing?
 I feel like I have the basics down, but there is still always errors with grammar and punctuation, mainly when I get into a scene is where I make the most mistakes... but that’s life, right? =)

What was your favorite class in school, and why? 
My favorite class was actually Art class. When I was younger, I was into drawing mostly, and in the class, we drew a lot and did crafts and they had all the supplies, so it was a win-win! Plus, my teacher pushed my imagination limits, which I found hard at the time, but am grateful for it now.

How do you feel about the increasing popularity of ebooks? 
You know, at first, when they were new, I was against them. I thought, hey, I want a real book, not an ebook, but now... I LOVE ebooks! I can just carry my tablet and choose any book I want and read it anywhere!

A brief excerpt from Pneuma: 

Fate. Please be kind. Will he still remember me? Will our first and last kiss be one and the same? Please remember me. Please be with me.

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