Hi,
Welcome, Kristin Wallace. It is good to have you on my blog today. Your book Imagine That sounds interesting. I have put this book on my to read list.
Short Blurb:
Children’s author Emily Sinclair was supposed to be the next
J.K. Rowling… Until her second book flopped and her imagination went on the
fritz. So she sets out on an epic adventure to find inspiration again. A
journey that leads her to Covington Falls and a “happily ever after” with
rugged, blue collar house painter Nate Cooper.
Full Blurb:
Children’s author Emily Sinclair was supposed to be the next
J.K. Rowling… Until her second book flopped and her imagination went on the
fritz. So she sets out on an epic adventure to find inspiration again. Till a
dead car lands her in Covington Falls, Georgia. Soon Emily is taking up her
quest, looking for inspiration driving a mobile library van, as a companion to
a crotchety old woman and her insomniac dog, and as a very ungraceful baker’s assistant. Of course, what really sparks
her romantic fantasies is a valiant hero, though he yields a paint roller instead
of a sword.
Rugged, blue-collar Nate Cooper has spent most of his life
avoiding the printed page. These days he doesn’t have much use for fancy words
and certainly not for a slightly off-center writer on the lam. Not when his
mother is battling cancer, his little brother has morphed into a teenaged ogre,
and God seems to have taken a vacation.
On paper, these two would seem the least likely pairing, and
a happily ever after nothing but fantasy. But with faith and imagination Emily
and Nate are about to write a new chapter that will lead to unexpected love.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
A
stomach-churning thunk. A
disaster-laden chug. A scary,
threatening gurgle.
Emily
Sinclair’s hands clutched the steering wheel as she guided her how-could-you-give-out-on-me-now convertible to the side of the road.
With a last ominous blunk and splutter, the car gave up the ghost.
She
switched off the engine, waited a few seconds, and then turned the key again.
Nothing.
Not
surprising. As if anything glug-glugging
like an octogenarian trying to cough up a lung was going to restart with so
little effort.
A
cranky yowl went up from the passenger seat. Emily glanced over at the pet
carrier and sent the fat Persian inside a confident smile. “Don’t worry,
Wordsworth. This is why modern man invented cell phones.”
She
fished her phone out of her purse. A blank screen stared back at her. Pressing
more buttons did nothing.
Dead.
Dead as
her car.
With a
sound of disgust, Emily tossed the useless phone aside and stared out the
windshield at the deserted country road in front of her. The very deserted country road that
stretched around a sparkling blue lake and disappeared into the back of beyond.
The kind of road featured in all the best horror stories. Emily’s mind conjured
up every one, along with the opening line in the newspaper article.
Once-famous children’s
author found mangled to death. Quest to locate her lost imagination and revive
faded career ends in disaster… as her mother predicted.
Muttering
an oath, Emily climbed out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she
could. What a fix. And ironic. There were rules about writing. Not grammar
rules, like where to put commas or when to use a semicolon. No, the unofficial
rules for fiction writing. Chief among them is that an author should never
start a novel with the character driving or thinking. No, readers wanted action
right off the top, and the car could never break down.
In
college, Emily had written a short story where the heroine’s car stalled in a
typical these-people-will-murder-you-in-your-sleep town. Emily’s professor had
written cliché in bold, red pen
across the page. Not satisfied, she’d added boring
cliché, underlining the boring
with three thick red lines. The critique had stung. The fact that it had come
courtesy of Professor Vanessa Sinclair, Emily’s mother, had been like ripping
off an old bandage.
Emily
was breaking all three cardinal rules of writing at once. Though technically
the driving rule didn’t apply. Same for the sitting rule. She was thinking,
though. Thinking her entire life had become a cliché, so what did it matter if
she broke her mother’s precious writing rules? She was a one-hit writing
wonder. A flash in the pan. A big-haired eighties’ rock band that had scored
one giant hit and then disappeared into the oblivion of those nostalgic ‘Where are they now?’ music specials.
Emily
sighed. If one had to break down somewhere, one could do worse than… what had
the sign said back there? Covington something. Covington something, Georgia.
Muted afternoon sun shimmered off the surface of the lake. She lifted a hand to
ward off the eye-watering glare and focused on the water. In her previous life,
the golden flecks of sunlight reflecting off its surface would have transformed
into a million different kinds of fantastical creatures. Or maybe something
nightmarish would charge out of that bank of oak trees across the lake.
Unfortunately,
Emily was stuck in her real life, and her imagination was on the fritz.
Well,
at least she wouldn’t die of water deprivation while she waited to be rescued.
Speaking
of rescue.
A car
had appeared, winding around the curve of the lake. A big ole’ country truck
calling to mind hoedowns and hay rides. A big ole’ rusty truck, Emily realized as it drew closer. Burnt red growth
spread out across the hood like a marauding band of Vikings overtaking a
defenseless village. She imagined rust was the only thing holding the vehicle
together.
The
truck slowed and Emily tensed, torn between elation at being found and wariness
regarding exactly who might be behind the wheel of the ancient rattletrap. The
glare off the windshield made it impossible to see inside the cab, however.
The
tires veered off to the side of the road and stopped, sending up a cloud of
dust. Emily waved her hand, choking on the airborne dirt. Her mouth felt dry as
if she had licked the ground. The door opened. Work boots emerged. Brown and
roughed-up and covered in… paint. A man stepped out, and Emily steadied her
hands against the car to keep from falling over.
Mr.
Darcy. No, Heathcliff. Only instead of a cravat and breeches, he was dressed in
faded jeans and a black T-shirt, which seemed molded to an impressive chest.
Heath stretched up a good six-plus feet, towering over her puny five-foot-two
frame. A lock of dark chocolate-brown hair brushed over his forehead. Their
eyes met. Since she was already thinking in clichés, Emily’s mind offered up a
million of them to describe his eyes. She could start with gray, but no way did
such a mundane word do them justice. Slate, storm clouds, a roiling sea, glazed
pewter. Devastating, and framed by thick sooty lashes no man had a right to
possess.
He
stopped a few feet away, and Emily had the fanciful notion he was trying not to
frighten her. Like she was a skittish filly about to bolt.
“Hi,”
he said. “Car trouble?”
His
voice was like his eyes. Smooth and deep, like honey in a cup of hot tea.
Emily
nodded. How could she speak when every male literary fantasy she’d ever dreamed
about had unfolded from a rusted-out pickup?
“You
okay?” he asked. “You didn’t have an accident? Knock your head on anything?”
“No.
Just a car that decided to die,” Emily said, finally finding her voice. “Along
with my cell. Although that’s my fault since I didn’t charge it last night,
even though my mother is always nagging me not to forget, since I’ve taken it
into my head to wander the globe on an
aimless search for purpose and meaning. Her description anyway, but if
you’d lost your imagination wouldn’t you go to the ends of the earth to find it
again? She doesn’t understand, though. Although maybe she’s right. I mean, here
I am stuck in Covington something, Georgia, with a dead car, a dead cell, and a
dead imagination. Although if I had
an imagination I know I could come up with something fantastic about your
truck.”
Emily
slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by the verbal diarrhea she’d just
unleashed on her hapless rescuer.
The
stranger stared at her for a moment, and then did the most unexpected thing. He
grinned. “What was that?”
Her
butt thumped against the hood of the car as her legs gave out. Oh, Heath had a
smile on him that could tempt any fair maiden to let down her hair. Or anything
else he wanted.
Buy Links:
Barnes
& Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/imagine-that-kristin-wallace/1119886610?ean=2940149785476
Tell us about your book and how the story came to be.
The idea for this book really stemmed from a question. I was watching previews at a movie theater and one came on for the upcoming Harry Potter book and I thought, “What would happen if JK Rowling couldn’t come up with another idea for a book?” Of course, by now she has written other books, but none of them have had the success of Harry Potter. So I had my heroine facing the same dilemma. She had this amazing, best selling first book but the second book pretty much flopped. Now she’s stuck for a new idea so she sets out to try and recapture her imagination. Her journey brings her to Covington Falls.
What three words best describe your main character?
Quirky, endearing, determined.
Do you have a method for creating your characters, their names and what do you think makes them believable?
I don’t
know if it’s a method. I generally have an idea for a “type” of character. What
I like to do when I first come up with an idea is sit down and write one or two
chapters before I do any real plotting. For me that’s when I find the
character’s voice and their distinctive characteristics. It’s when I “fall in
love with them” in a way. The name is important. My heroine is a children’s
book author but she raised in a very literary family with parents who are
professors and authors themselves. Her name is Emily Jane Sinclair and of
course she’s named after Emily Bronte & Jane Austen. She writes under E.J.
Sinclair. I will also do character
studies to flesh our their backstory and learn their history. All that helps
make them well-rounded characters.
Do
your characters follow your plot path or do they take on a life of their
own? Do you keep them in check?
I
make an outline so I know the general direction, but my characters do
often like to go their own way. I mostly let them.
Have you
ever suffered from writer’s block? If so, how did you over come it?
Sure.
Happens all the time. Why do you think I wrote a heroine who is suffering from
massive writer’s block? LOL
If
I’m really stuck sometimes I walk away for a while. Think about something else
and try to work out a solution in my head. If I get really stuck on a scene I
might skip ahead to a later one that I do know.
What
types of books do you like to read?
I
love humor so I gravitate toward anyone who writes humor well. I like
contemporary romance as well as historicals. Some of my favorite authors are
Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Kristan Higgins, and Julia Quinn.
What do
you like to do when you aren’t writing?
I read a
lot. I’m also a singer and musician. I sing in my church choir and worship
team. I love going to movies as well.
What’s
next for your writing? Are you working on a new story?
I’m
working on the next Covington Falls books (the 4th). It’s a Christmas-themed
book so I’ve been stuck on Christmas since December. Of course, I’m also
mulling around ideas for a new series, but that isn’t full formed.
What’s
the best piece of writing advice you’ve received?
There
are so many little things people have taught me. It’s hard to pin down one
“best” thing.
Where can
readers find you and your books?
My website
is http://KristinWallaceAuthor.com I’m also on Facebook and twitter. All three of the Covington Falls
book are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Growing up Kristin devoured books like bags of Dove Dark
Chocolate. Her first Golden Book led
to Laura Ingalls Wilder, Nancy Drew, C.S. Lewis and the Sweet Valley High
series. Later, she discovered romance novels and fell in love all over again.
It’s no surprise then that Kristin would one day try her hand at
writing them. She writes romance and women’s fiction filled with love,
laughter and a leap of faith. She is the author of Covington Falls Chronicles,
inspirational romances set in a quirky, Southern town with a character all it’s
own. When she’s not writing her next novel, Kristin works as an
advertising copywriter. She also enjoys singing in the church choir and
worship team and playing flute in a community orchestra.
Covington Falls
Chronicles: Marry Me (Book 1); Acting
Up (Book 2); Imagine That (Book 3)
Connect with Kristin:
Website: www.KristinWallaceAuthor.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/KristinWallaceAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KWallaceAuthor
Buy Links:
Hi and thanks for hosting me today!
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