Author Interview: Cathrina Constantine

A week or so ago, my friend Cathrina celebrated the release of her newest novel, Don't Forget to Breathe. It's a young adult thriller/mystery, with a clever premise and a gorgeous cover. I was intrigued by all this, and wanted to learn more, so I invited Cathrina for an interview...

BIO:

Cathrina Constantine resides in Western New York with her husband, five children, two Labrador Retrievers and two cats. When not with her family, reading, or stationed at the computer, you will find her walking in the backwoods with her dogs, conjuring up a new tale.

Cathrina’s published credits are Wickedly They Come, Wickedly They Dream, Tallas, and Don’t Forget to Breathe.

You can find Cathrina here: Amazon Page        Twitter        Facebook        Pinterest        TSU

INTERVIEW

LR: What’s the most compelling thing about Don’t Forget to Breathe, the thing that’s kept your butt in the chair through hours of writing and revising?

CC: I fell in love with the characters and the new genre. It was the fastest first draft I’ve written. 3 months. But then months and months of editing….

LR: Your bio says you took some time off to raise children (though I’d argue you were probably more ON during that time than ever before), then got back into writing. How’d you do it? If you had to recommend one writing resource, either a class or a book or a workshop, what would that be?

CC: Yes, I did write pre-kids and pre-computer age, but nothing became of it. I saved those stories and chuckle reading them. One day out of the blue an idea came into my head, I grabbed pencil and paper and began to write. Not until the pages started adding up when my son said, “Why don’t you use my computer?” That was my first manuscript, Wickedly They Come, which went into years of rewrites and editing.

I never studied creative writing or took any workshops, which I should do because my technical prose needs work. But I’m a reading carnivore. I’m self-taught and it shows in two drafts that will never see the light of day.

LR: Most of your work has a touch of the paranormal, which I think is cool. Does that reflect how you see the world?

CC: The mystical and inexplicable happenings I find intriguing. I truly believe there are dimensions all around us. Heaven and Hell. Good versus Evil.

LR I love the joint book reviews you and Nana Prah do – and not just because you said nice things about my book. J  How’d you get started doing them? Who chooses what to read next?

CC:  We loved BetweenThe Sheets! Nana and I connected after both becoming contracted with Black Opal Books. We were floundering authors, wondering how to make ourselves known. The Prah & Constantine Reviews were Nana’s brilliant idea. As far as how we choose what book to review, we sometimes take monthly turns or we discuss it.

LR: So, how’s the winter going up there in New York State? Are you getting any writing done between bouts of shoveling snow?

CC: Brrrr….frozen artic region. My favorite time to write is in the winter, especially during swirling snowflakes. Summer’s short, so I don’t like to spend my time behind a computer.

LR: What’s your favorite non-writing activity? Like, are you a closet marathon runner? Could you crochet a house-cozy if you had to? Maybe you secretly want to appear on Antiques Roadshow?

CC: Your questions are cracking me up! I do crochet and hand-quilt, but I never made a house-cozy. I recently started babysitting my first grandbaby. I love it. But my writing’s been tossed in the background. 

LR: What’s next on your horizon? Describe your current WIP(s) or other upcoming project.

CC: I just finished the first draft to the sequel, Tallas. Now the hair pulling edits. I’ve started two fantastical stories that I’m itching to sink my teeth into. And I have a short story in Crushing Hearts & Black Butterfly’s Anthology called Mystical Bites coming this spring.

BLURB

Sixteen-year-old Leocadia arrives home from school to find her mom’s bloody body. Unaware that the killer still lingers, she rushes to her mother’s side, only to be grabbed from behind and then everything fades to black.

After a year of retrograde amnesia and battling personal demons, Leo’s dreams are getting worse—she’s starting to remember. More bodies are discovered and they seem to be oddly linked to her mom’s unsolved homicide.

When Leo allows her friend, Henry to drag her into the haunted Lucien Mansion, misty ghosts appear, ghosts that just might lead to her mother’s murderer.

Will Leo let her memories threaten her into a relapse or, will she fight to find her mother’s killer – only to become his next victim?

EXCERPT 

I trekked farther along the tracks. Using the heightened berm to observe the area, I could scarcely make out the tombstones that pocked the ground amidst the fog; it looked eerie and lonesome. Then spotting remote figures, I counted three. It could be kids looking for a place to party in private. I crouched and balanced on my heels to monitor the dark shapes and wondered if one might be Henry.

They traveled behind a large monument, losing sight of them. To the left a prowling cat distracted me when suddenly, a blood-curdling scream scraped into my bones, clutching my heart.

Available from AMAZON!

Writing for the YA Crowd by Christine Hughes

 

And so, my dear Rancourtesans, I'm taking a break from my blog vacation (blogcation?) to introduce you to another of the fabulous writers whom I've met through Black Opal Books. Christine Hughes is gearing up for the big release of her first novel, TORN, and I'm pleased to have her here to talk about writing for young adults. Keep reading, cuz you'll see there's a sneak peek at TORN down below, and it looks awesome. Thanks so much, Christine, and all the best with your release.

Peace,

Liv

Thank you for having me on your blog! I am very happy to be here.

When I was writing TORN, I had to remember my protagonist, Samantha, was not an adult. Sure, she was experiencing adult situations and adult emotions but she was 17. The reactions and mannerisms of a 17 year-old, no matter how mature, are going to be very different from the reactions and mannerisms of someone five, ten or fifteen years older.

As much as I wanted her to be able to hold a conversation with the vocabulary of the kids from Dawson's Creek, I wanted her to be real. Don't get me wrong, I've met students with high level vocabulary but there is something jaded about using words for the sake of using them. And I wanted Samantha to be regular teenage girl with regular teenage girl issues and doubts. It was bad enough I was dropping fate on her shoulders, I did the best I could to make her as real as possible.

I was an English major in college and was a middle school English teacher for some time so I’m no stranger to the phenomenon that is Young Adult Literature. YA is like this thing, this creature that infiltrates the minds of young men and women, occasionally crosses over into grown-up land and opens up worlds.

When I decided to write, no question – my first book was going to be YA. I loved crafting my characters to fit the idiosyncrasies of the intended audience. I knew the message in the pages would need to rise to the level of a thought provoking, conversation starter and I truly hope I’ve been able to do just that. Only time will tell, of course. With that said, writing YA is not easy. It’s hard to forget sometimes that teens aren’t snarky for the sake of being snarky. It’s hard to remember that Mean Girls is just a movie. It’s hard to process that these kids discuss adult issues, deal with adult problems and unfortunately have to grow up faster than I remember having to.

The point is, my two cents on writing YA is this – remember these kids are so much different than when many of us grew up. They know more, they see more and they expect more from a book that “happily ever after”. They want variety. If you can give them something to think about, something to talk about and something to share, they’ll read your book and pass it along to their friends. 

TORN will be released June 9, 2012 and is currently available for pre-order at Black Opal Books.

Bio: A former Army brat, Christine Hughes moved quite often. She spent much of her time losing herself in books and creating stories about many of the people she'd met. Falling in love with literature was easy for her and she majored in English while attending college in New Jersey.

Not sure where her love of reading and writing fit, she became a middle school English teacher. After nine years of teaching others to appreciate literature, she decided to take the plunge and write her first novel. Now at home focusing on making writing her new career, she spends her time creating characters and plot points instead of grading papers.

Music has become an integral part of her writing process and without the proper play list, Hughes finds the words don't flow. At least a few times a week she can be found at the local Barnes & Noble with her Mac and headphones working on her next novel.

Torn Blurb:

With the sudden, mysterious death of her father, Samantha discovers her life isn’t what it seems. Not only isn’t she the normal teenage girl she thought she was, Sam must now take her father’s place in the fight between two groups of fallen angels—the Faithful and the Exiled—in a race to save humanity. In addition to dealing with the devastating betrayal of her friend and her feelings for someone she is forbidden to love, Sam must also fight the growing darkness within her as she struggles to make a choice between fighting alongside the Faithful or succumbing to the temptation of the Exiled. Both sides require sacrifices Sam isn’t sure she can make.

 Chapter 1

September

The Cabin

Run, Samantha. Don’t look back. Just run.

I repeated this mantra over and over again as I sprinted through the trees. Focused, like my life depended on it and knowing that one day it would, I ran. Through the damp woods, past branches that tore at my skin, and hurdling over logs, I ran. My breath mingled with the crisp fall air but I didn’t feel the cold. I felt nothing but the pure and relentless adrenaline that pumped through my veins. As the sun rose and cast its broken beams through the trees, I ran. With only a single thought: I have to get there.

I knew he was following me. He was close. So close. I couldn’t let him catch me.

My legs carried me over slick moss and rotting bark. I flew over downed trees, grabbing for branches to help me over. I was fast. Faster than before. Faster than yesterday. My focus was singular. The task at hand was all I could think about. Get through, Sam. Faster, Sam. Jump, Sam.

I swore I could navigate those woods with my eyes closed. I could see the next obstacle that lay ahead of me yards before it came into view. And when I concentrated hard enough, those obstacles began to disappear.

I burst into the clearing and could faintly make out his barely labored breathing behind me. He was so close I could smell him. I dug in and pumped my legs faster. Always faster. I knew I was going to beat him this time. I had to. I closed in on my destination. All I had to do was jump. I had to make it over the water. Over the creek on the other side of the clearing.

Samannnnnnthaaaa…. Run!

The intrusive voice pulsed through me and drowned out the mantra in my head, breaking my rhythm and I stumbled over a rock I was sure hadn’t been there yesterday.

Damn it! The eerily familiar voice that had settled comfortably in my head like a squatter, had the worst timing It teased like a schoolyard bully and I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t. I had to run. I was almost there. Come on, Sam. Fifty feet. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Almost there. As I braced my body for the jump over the swollen creek, he caught my ankles in mid-air and dropped me to the ground with a bone jarring tackle onto the muddy bank.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled.

I fought back, jumping up the way I was taught, fists at the ready. I caught him off guard, for the first time, with a jab to the chin and a roundhouse to the stomach. Then I did a back spring, landing well out of his reach and quickly regrouped. The grin on his face as he rubbed his chin told me I surprised him with that one. And now I was in trouble.

“Lucky shot, Sam. Nice kick. Too bad this one’s on me.” His cocky bravado triggered an extra jolt of adrenaline inside me. He’s not gonna take this round. Not this time.

For a few seconds we circled each other, anticipating the other’s next move. He crouched and lunged at my knees. I jumped to grab the branch above me and he missed, sprawling out in the dirt. But not for long. He was on his feet again before I’d even let go of the tree, his eyes merely blue slits of predatory focus. I had a total of three seconds to figure out my next move before he lunged again, targeting me mid-waist.

Instinctively, I dropped to the ground, and sprung forward, drilling him into the trunk of the nearest tree. Rain had started to fall, shrouding the sound of my movements as I quickly disappeared behind the brush. I needed to work out how to nail him with an element of surprise.

He growled in frustration but his annoyance didn’t matter. I was winning. I could feel it.

My hands and knees were scraped and dirty. My hair was a tangled mess and the sudden rise in humidity brought on by the rain wasn’t helping. The scent of decaying vegetation around me did nothing to mask the stench of my sweat.

His voice taunted me. “Come out, come out wherever you are. You can’t hide from me forever. You think you can camouflage yourself from me? I can smell you.”

Think, Samantha.

He was right. I couldn’t sit there all day getting soaked in the rain waiting for him to find me. Through a small gap between the leaves, I could see him looking, scanning the trees and underbrush. Then his eyes focused where I crouched. I needed to act, now.

The forces of nature seemed to heed my need for action and the sky erupted, complete with booming thunder and darting strikes of lightning. I belly crawled behind bushes until I was on his right. His eyes still boring into the spot I’d just vacated, he took a step forward.

I slowly stood and crept up next to him. He turned around and I caught his cheek with a right hook but he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I yelled, in surprise and  pain. The look on his face made him almost unrecognizable and for a moment I was paralyzed as the maniacal voice stole through me once again.

Samannnnnnthaaaa… Run!

He took advantage of my shock and swept my legs out, dropping me face first into a vat of mud.

So not how I had envisioned this ending.