Hello Ryssa, welcome to my blog…again! It’s always a pleasure! Iv’e got a few questions for you today, I hope you enjoy answering them.
What is the most important lack in your life?
I really thought this one over, Victoria. I have to say the biggest thing I lack in my life is twelve hour maid service! Oh, and a chef.
How do you react to a bad review of one of your books?
This is a hard one. I read a lot of one star reviews on Amazon. You’d think that the issue coming up again and again would be bad writing. But it’s not. The most frequent theme in the one star reviews is betrayal. Readers talk a lot about feeling betrayed by an author because they don’t think the author stayed true to a character (in a series) or to a story (in stand-alone novels). So, when I read a bad review of my writing, I try to look for what it was that made the reviewer feel that way. I take that and learn from it. On the other hand, sometimes people just don’t like the stories I write. *shrug* And that’s cool.
Do you ever write Naked?
No. But it sounds like fun!
Are there any occupational hazards to being an author?
You mean besides gorgeous shape shifters and vampires invading your daydreams? No. None that I can think of. Seriously, one of the occupational hazards is self-doubt. It attacks me the hardest when I’m in the middle of a piece. Right when I’ve gone too far to quit, I start thinking it’s a dumb story, or nobody will want to read it, or I should have written it from a different angle. That’s what happens. But the true occupational hazard is failing to realize that self-doubt that comes to every author . . . it’s just part of the process.
What was the name of your first computer?
Oh. This is embarrassing. The first one was “Robbie” for Robbie the robot from Lost in Space. But to make up for it, I named my next one DreamWriter. The computer I write on today is Aladdin. I’m sure there’s something Freudian there, but I don’t know what it is.
Is there a snobbery directed against erotic writing from other authors?
I experience it as a sort of “reverse” snobbery. My stories get comments like, “that’s pretty good . . . for erotica”, as if romance authors occupy some mysterious nether land of “almost-writers”. Hey, as long as they think it’s good, it’s all good, you know?
What are the most important attributes to remaining sane as a writer?
This is my list, in order, from lowest to highest:
Eat right and sleep. You know how a ball of yarn looks after a kitten’s done playing with it? That’s how my plots start looking if I don’t get enough sleep.
Practice. Ever hear the old joke about Carnegie Hall? How do you get there? Practice. I practice write about six days a week. It helps me stay in touch with my writing. And it really helps when I have those “I don’t know what comes next” moments. I just write. And there I amâ€”in the next moment.
Read Stuff You Love! When I feel the magic of a good book seeping into me, it inspires me to make my own magic.
Take time out to play. It’s all about the fun. I don’t forget that.
Share. A good friend to share the triumphs and defeats that go with writing is invaluable. Em Woods does that for me. Here’s to you Em!
What’s new and upcoming for you?
My newest release, coming up on September 24th is Hunter Angel, Midnight Gamble, part 3 of my Immortal Pleasures series. Azriel is a Hunter angel. His status is Unforgiven. In the mortal realm, he is a relentless Hunter who rids the world of angelic beings who have broken their vows.
Until he met Zane, Azriel’s life was a long eternity without hope. But, now that he’s met Zane, he wants more, he wants to have something he never thought he’d have: love.
But for an Unforgiven Hunter, there’s only one way to have a mate: he must earn his way out of his Unforgiven status. Azriel’s instincts lead him to a battle that will be the ultimate midnight gamble, winner takes all. But will he win? Or will he lose Zane forever?
Azriel moved through the city wrapped in night rhythms of jabbering tourists, glaring neon, and streets clogged with slow traffic. The Renegade was awake. All Azriel had to do was find him and dispatch his screaming headless body. The Council would understand.
His black on black eyes traced the night, looking for the Renegade’s trail. Azriel had tracked him to the city, then lost him. The crowds made a meaty hunting ground for a newly escaped Renegade. He would be trolling the night, searching out new allies, new lairs, new minions.
About twenty blocks ahead, near an alley, a faint light shimmered like white bone through muddy water. Azriel eased through the mortals around him, carefully avoiding their touch. If he brushed against them and they felt the Hunter urge rising in him, it would frighten them. Their fear would draw the Renegade the way dead flesh drew carrion. Azriel had too much on the line to risk that. His left hand itched for his sword. A moment was all he’d need.
Brilliant white light intruded into his dark intentions for the Renegade, and with it came alien thoughts, strange ideas. Should he consider mercy? Was there any creature unworthy of forgiveness? Azriel gritted his teeth and said, “Get your healing ways out of my head, Raphael.”
“And allow you to bring trouble upon yourself?” a quiet voice said beside him.
Raphael, Archangel of Healing, appeared beside him, materializing onto the sidewalk as if he belonged there. In patched jeans faded almost to white and a denim shirt that had seen better days around World War II, Raphael was inches shorter, but tough and wiry. Azriel could never escape the feeling that in a fight, they would be equally matched. “Whatever trouble I get into is my business,” he said.
“Is that so?” Raphael’s face took on a puzzled expression. “I thought it was Michael’s concern as well.”
Raphael might go around the world healing mortals and doing whatever miracles he did from those statues, but with his own kind he was as ruthless as any warrior Azriel had ever gone up against. He stopped and leaned against a wall between a closed coffee shop and an open newsstand storefront, the kind that sold magazines married men hid deep in the closet.
Hooking his fingers through two belt loops in his jeans, Azriel stared at the sidewalk just to Raphael’s left. There wasn’t anything else to do. The Archangel outranked him. “This assignment isn’t from Michael,” he muttered.
“I see,” Raphael said, his voice as soft as if he’d asked about feathers shed from a wing. “Your commander hasn’t approved a new Hunt. So the White Council has given you their approval, then?”
“No.” Talking to Raphael was like talking to a lawyer. Short answers gave him less to work with.
“And so you’re out walking to take the evening air?”
“Very good.” Raphael smiled and brought his hands together like a teacher talking to a well behaved class. “Then shall we walk in the park, and enjoy the scents of night blooming flowers together?”
Azriel almost smiled back. He almost said yeah, flowers. That sounds good. Except the park was in the opposite direction of the Renegade’s trail. And the smiling Archangel with the diamond-hard blue eyes knew that. Azriel was sure of it. “I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”
“Then you won’t mind if I go with you?” Raphael made the question sound like a command.
“Splendid.” That radiant smile again, the one that could light up the far side of the moon. “Where shall we go first?”
Raphael had worn Azriel’s patience paper-thin. “Don’t ruin this for me,” he said. “He’s a Renegade. If I can bring him down, I have a chance with Zane.”
“What you have a chance for,” Raphael said, the smile gone as if it had never happened, “is a sentence to wander the Dark Realm eternally.”
Azriel repeated the lie he’d been telling himself. “The Councilâ€”I’ll make them understand.”
“The Council has enforced their Law over all beings for eons,” Raphael said.” What possible chance do you think you and Zane have against that?”
Where can we find you on the web?
My blog: http://www.ryssaedwards.net/blog/
Warning! *Free Read Ahead* Check out “Spinner” my contribution to GoodReads’ Hot Summer Days.
I’m Ryssa Edwards and . . . thank you Victoria for having me!