Did you choose your genre or did it choose you? It chose me; however, my writing contains multiple genres. I dabbled with a few different genres, but all of my stories came full circle, heading back to fitting into science fiction.
Did you enjoy language arts in school? Did you have a teacher that particularly encouraged you to write? I loved it. Then again, I loved any subject that didn’t deal with math or chemistry. I didn’t have a specific teacher who encouraged me to write, per se; however, in tenth grade I took a class called: “What are Words Worth?” The basis was Greek roots and their meanings. That’s when my passion for writing began.
It’s five o’clock somewhere…Let’s have a drink! What cocktail best describes you and why? I’m game for any drink that masks the taste of alcohol. If you get me drunk enough, I’ll just start asking for drinks with dirty names.
On my desk I have a rhino that my husband gave me to remind me I’m rhino-tough, as you have to be in the business. Is there anything you have that you use to remind you of that? I have a pathetic stuffed patchwork cat named Stitches. He’s a mess of colors and patterns, but I love him. I think he serves as a reminder to me that when life falls apart, you simply put yourself back together and move forward.
I have two muses, Arwen and Bronwyn, they have very distinct personalities. Can you share a bit about your muse? My muse doesn’t have a name and her appearance morphs periodically so I can never explain what she looks like. She’s loud, obnoxious and when she wants me to write, watch out!
It seems we all endured English and/or World literature coming up in high school…What was the worst book you were ever forced to read and what about it turned you off? Lord of the Flies and reading about Piggy’s demise at a young age.
You have a million dollars that you must donate to one charitable organization. Which one would you choose and why? Reading is Fundamental because everyone deserves to get lost in a good book and it’s an important aspect of education.
Do you have one of those pesky day jobs, or are you a full-time writer? If you do have another career what do you do and do you enjoy it? I work in medical billing for a few different radiology practices. Honestly, I like it. Each account is different and provides a challenge. The studies are fascinating and my coworkers are like family. It’s a nice balance because numbers are a left-brained environment while writing is right-brained.
Due to the world we live in, most editors will tell a romance writer they have the moral obligation to protect their characters from scary life altering things, thereby being obligated to the reader. What are your thoughts on this? Do you protect your characters and how? The story usually propels itself, so my characters are on their own to protect themselves and one another.
Romance has come a long, long way since Fabio graced the covers regularly…it seems the hinges are off the proverbial door. How far is too far in your mind? Are there things you simply won’t write? Well, from a sci-fi perspective, my characters propel the book, so in most instances the story ends up containing what fits and what’s real to them. There have been scenarios where I’ve had to tell a character “no”, but they usually fight back and win.
I’ve been asked, as has my husband, if we do “all that stuff in my stories.” Do you get asked this and if so how do you handle it? Gosh, I hope not. My characters are injected with substances that alter their DNA and wind up with superhuman powers. I don’t think we’d handle it well.
Wine or beer? Raspberry beer
Satin or cotton? Cotton
Fries or tots? Tots
Cake or pie? Pie
Steak or burgers? Steak
Candle light or pitch dark? Candle light
Thank you for interviewing me! I had a great time! J
She wrote stories as a child, but became more serious about her passion during her twenties. In her spare time, she likes to read, splash in mud puddles, smell bookstores and eat Honeycrisp apples. Yearly, she participates in NaNoWriMo and has mentored others through the program. Due to her dedication to National Novel Writing Month, she is part of an amazing writing group.
Born and raised in Washington State, Sarah still resides in the area. Her life is richly filled with her supportive, yet swashbuckling husband and their golden Nugget.Website / Facebook / Twitter
Amelia's grandfather, Marius Benedict, once headed The Physician Coalition, an elite group of doctors who threw the Hippocratic Oath out the window. Years ago, they used a low-risk medical research study as a front for their experiments. Without their consent, innocents were injected with JackRabbit7, a hazardous substance used to alter their DNA. The victims were left with less-than-desirable super-human powers or excruciating death. Years after he disbanded the group, Marius has a new plan and is reforming The Coalition.
Max, a mysterious stranger from the Insurance Agency, offers to help keep Amelia safe. He introduces The Agency as an underground government organization that contains and eliminates those who intend to harm the world. To protect The Agency, the truth of their activities are concealed and replaced with sugar-coated stories in the media.Over the course of the next week, Amelia has to accept the truth and learn who can be trusted. At midnight on her 23rd birthday, a contract between The Coalition and The Insurance Agency will expire, giving Marius full rein to approach his granddaughter and finish the project he started with her so many years ago.
Something felt wrong.
In the living room, an ottoman rested on its side and a magazine lay open on the floor. A colorful article advertising Las Vegas blared from the pages. From the corner of my eye, the screen of Connor’s cell phone caught my attention. I watched it periodically blink, communicating new messages awaited.
I went to the kitchen next and found the latest stack of mail on the island. The top envelope made me cringe when I saw the return address. It was another letter from the State of Washington. This one was addressed to Amelia Brooks.
My identity had been an issue for years. Since age 18, I submitted multiple requests to change my last name from my grandfather’s back to my parents. With each attempt, the paperwork came back denied, stating my name was Amelia Benedict or another obscure surname starting with the letter “B”. Double-checking each field, I clearly filled out the forms to read Amelia Hamilton, but was contradicted every time. I determined it a sick way for my grandfather to haunt me from the grave. The latest correspondence would have to wait.
A broken wine bottle and bandage wrappers were on the counter next to the refrigerator. Droplets of dark fluid created a path from the bottle to the sink, making me shudder. The room began to feel too warm and nausea flooded my stomach. I grabbed a rolling pin from the island, gripping it so tightly my knuckles hurt.
“Calm down, Amelia,” I said. “There’s a logical explanation and no one is going to hurt you.” I forced my mind away from childhood memories of a basement.
Swallowing hard, I tiptoed across the living room to the bedroom. As usual, the door was cracked open. I held the pin over my head, ready to attack in an instant. From where I stood, I couldn’t see more than the corner of the dresser and a beam of soft light. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. A flashlight rested on the nightstand, pointed toward the ceiling. As I scanned the room, my jaw dropped and my heart paused.“Connor?” I dropped the makeshift weapon at my feet.