When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I was in grade school
when the writing bug hit. I was praised for my stories
and then given the opportunity to write and produce a school play. I was forever
hooked, and while I wrote for my own pleasure well into adulthood, it wasn't
until I met a writer that I thought I began to pursue it earnestly. The first
item I had published in a magazine was a poem. After that, my first book was born.
How long does it take you to write a book?
Too long, at least
according to some, I once wrote a rough draft in 72 hours, and I mean a very,
very rough draft. It's not the initial story that gives me a hard time it's the rewrite. During rewrite is when the
research is done, the characters back-stories created, the timeline is established, and the red herrings created.
There's a lot to writing a convincing murder
mystery. You have to have plenty of possible doers, and enough clues that when
the reader gets to the solution they can say, "I should have known!"
With formula writing and the quick turnaround available now some would say I'm
slow. I would say I'm sure.
What is your work schedule like when you're writing?
For
that first draft, the house becomes a mess, the laundry piles up and no one
eats unless they do the cooking. I barely sleep. For the second draft, it's a
much quieter time and life is lived. Once the first edits come back though, I
go back to the bad habits of the first sentence. My family suffers for my art.
What is your latest release and what's next?
On
September 23, I published a collection of
short stories, When Zombies Attack. I
like to write all genres and horror has always been a preference, Stephen King
is one of my all-time favorite authors. This month I finished a short in the genre
of speculative fiction, an alternative timeline called Ever-Ton. Also, Curiosity
Quills Press will publish the third book of my Murder Trilogy, Murder &
Obsession, in March of 2016. I'm dedicating the month of November to finishing
the first draft of my latest WIP, Dark
Motives, a new murder mystery.
Yolanda Renée
The Keystone state
couldn't satisfy my adventurous spirit, yet Pennsylvania will always be home.
Alaska called to me and I answered. I learned to sleep under the midnight sun,
hike the Brooks Range, and traveled from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez.
When I left the corporate
world to seek my next adventure, writing, this beautiful state and its most
primal spirit, inspired me to feature Alaska in my newly published mystery
trilogy. The wonders, mysteries and incredible beauty that are Alaska have never left
my soul.
A love
for all things Stephen King helped inspire the writing of my newest release
When Zombies Attack Tales of Horror & Romance. Because let's face it folks
relationships run the gamut of sublime to murder to sheer terror.
The story weaves a rich
tapestry of love, obsession, mystery, and murder…
Life is full of many
journeys, and I look forward to the next adventure on my bucket list…
Racing in the Indy 500…
Drumming to my own beat…
OR, keeping a pet dragon
in my back yard.
After all…anything IS
POSSIBLE!
Links
Blogs: Defending the Pen
Twitter:
@yolandarenee
LATEST RELEASE:
When Zombies
Attack is a
collection of short stories, flash fiction, and poetry with over thirty
individual pieces. Starting with zombies and ending with a flesh eater. There
is horror, romance, murder, and mystery, a little for every reader.
- Can a survivalist survive a zombie hoard?
- Can an angel in training beat the Devil?
- Would you voluntarily jump into the fires of hell?
- Is murder ever forgivable?
- Will love finally triumph over death!
- On Halloween night, a sexy witch gets
more than she
planned for!
When Zombies
Attack is a fun romp through all things forbidden, love with a touch of horror,
and all those things that scare us!
Excerpt:
Angie unmuted the
sound on the television.
Mary Jane Finney
reported. "Police are telling all residents of Pennsylvania to stay away
from the nuclear power plant. Something has gone terribly wrong – and that’s
all they will say. On the eastern side of the Susquehanna River, the military
is patrolling. No one is getting in, and no one is getting out. The status of
those in the red zone is unknown."
Angie muted the
television and tried to digest the news. She lived in the Red Zone; she could
see the stacks of the power plant from her front window.
She nervously got
off the couch, knocking her drink over. Between getting a towel to clean it up
and running to the window—there was no contest. She turned on the porch light
and hurried to the picture window. She threw open the curtains. The stacks were
black— ominous. No blinking red lights to warn low-flying planes of their
presence, no billowing steam clouds that spoke to their activity, and no LED
lights illuminating the ground and maintenance buildings. Just two black towers
marring a pristine moonlit sky. These two
monsters had spewed something noxious, something deadly. Angie felt the panic
start with a tingle in her toes to a tightening of the muscles in her legs then
to her gut, compressing her innards into a tight ball. Her hand rested on her
chest where a heart pounded like a jackhammer, skipping several beats. Her
lungs fought for air, and her mind screamed for answers.
Suddenly small
explosions sounded.
FIRST BOOK OF
MURDER TRILOGY
Tagline
After a
gritty detective becomes involved with a beautiful widow suspected of murder,
rumor and obsession obstruct his quest for justice.
Blurb
A killer
plays cat and mouse with a young widow against the snowy backdrop of an Alaskan
winter. Branded a black widow after the suspicious death of her millionaire
husband, Sarah Palmer flees Seattle for Anchorage.
One of the
police department's best and brightest detectives may just be in over his head,
especially when the facts start pointing to a conclusion he isn't willing to
face. With a killer on the loose and a climbing body count, Steven can't afford
to hedge his bets—or his life.
Is Sarah a
victim or a very skilled manipulator? With a killer on the loose and a climbing
body count, Steven can't afford to hedge his bets-or
his life.
Excerpt
Debra pulled up the collar of her jacket and stared out at the Arctic gale
battering the city. "Well, it’s do
or die. See you tomorrow," she said to Ginger, her best friend.
"Deb, you’ve nothing to prove." Ginger’s words were barely audible
over the sound of the storm as Debra opened the door.
She stepped across the threshold. "Yes, I do. I have to prove I’m
as tough as any Alaskan!"
Debra waved and leaned into the wind, wishing she had listened to Ginger
and bought that ugly parka. Instead, she braved the stinging wind and sleet,
resolved that Alaska’s elements would not beat her this time. Her mood quickly
shifted from determination to irritation when the cold air tore at her clothes.
Sharp fingers of ice brutally needled her
in places familiar only with warmth.
"I hate this place!" she grumbled.
Determination pushed her forward when common sense should have won out
and sent her back inside. You can do this. Halfway through the alley,
Debra spotted her car. A co-worker had cleared the SUV of snow. Thank
god for friends. Debra pushed the remote button on her key chain to start it
and felt a sense of accomplishment. Now all she had to do was master the drive home.
Her joy was fleeting, as hands clamped down on her shoulders.
"Hey, wait a minute!" She barely had the words out before a
gloved hand closed over her mouth. Utter helplessness and cold steel, slicing
deep, registered in her mind as reality changed from surviving a winter storm
to sheer terror.
"Oh, God." Debra wanted to cry, but her stifled screams became
gurgles, as she choked on blood.
Released from captivity, she sank to the ground like a deflated balloon.
Her hands, finally free from immobilizing fear, reached for her throat. Lifeblood
poured between her fingers, and her final seconds moved in slow, deliberate
steps. Debra fell back into a soft pillow of snow. Oh, God! Please, don’t let
me die. She screamed in her mind because her larynx no longer worked.
A shadow appeared. Debra tried to raise her leaden arms skyward, to reach
for rescue, but they fell limply at her sides when she realized her attacker
stood above her.
"Why? Why me?" She tried to speak, but her jaw only jerked
lamely. The words bounced soundlessly in her skull. Critically weakened, she
fought to cling tightly to the life being so savagely stolen from her.
She stared up at the falling snow,
but could no longer feel the sting of its chill. The arctic air rapidly
extinguished the last embers of her life. Tears froze on her eyelashes, and
snowflakes—numerous and unrelenting—began to cover her with an icy blanket. Blood
poured from the open wound, sending spirals of steam, and Debra’s essence,
heavenward.
*****
SECOND BOOK IN MURDER TRILOGY
Tagline
World damnation is a psychotic man’s goal, but two
obstacles stand in his way, greed and a dedicated detective.
Blurb
Catching Alaska’s most notorious serial killer as a
rookie made Detective Steven Quaid a hero, but falling in love with the victim
of his last case tarnishes that status. While attempting to repair both his personal and
professional life, he stumbles upon an unusual case–and an even more
extraordinary foe: a man who believes he
is Lucifer. An insidious man who delivers Quaid the ultimate choice: save his fiancée from an assassin’s
bullet or stop the sacrifice of a young girl.
Excerpt
From a lair of downed tree limbs and forest debris, a man watches a
young woman. He chronicles her every move. From the moment of her arrival, and
through the three hours she works to record the scenery on her canvas, he
barely moves a muscle. He is content—comfortable. His camouflage is so perfect
that deer graze just inches away.
Tomorrow, you’ll be mine. Your blood will assuredly be purer than the
sweetest honey on earth. His stomach rumbles
and his saliva flows in anticipation of her taste. His unbridled joy almost
costs him his concealment when a celebratory growl escapes his throat, and the
doe takes notice. He stills himself and waits.
The woman looks directly at him. Seconds tick by in uneasy expectation.
She sees me. He swallows hard, almost dropping his camera. She smiles. His body
flushes with excitement.
His smile broadens, and then evaporates. No. He takes a deep breath,
closes his eyes, and relaxes his muscles. The Scriptures have foretold of our
first meeting. Patience, my queen, my love.
His hands drip with sweat; his heart pounds. He shuts the camera off and
carefully lowers it to the ground. She shows no fear, and he sees every move as
flirtation. Using the sleeves of his shirt, he dries his hands, mops his
forehead, and turns the camera back on. He calms the urge to go to her. He
stays silent, motionless, but vigilant.
A cool breeze
rustled the leaves, and a haunting melody flowed among the treetops. Sarah,
busy and intent on finishing her work, stepped back when a bee disturbed her
concentration. The bumblebee darted around the flowers she had just painted,
looking for nectar in the colors. She watched with amusement but, too quickly,
the small creature flew off to find the real thing. The distraction caused her
to realize how long she had worked without a break. Sarah put her palette down,
stretched her stiff muscles, and surveyed the scenery. Something in the trees
caught her attention, and a chill trickled down her spine, but concern became a
smile when she spotted the doe and its fawn, grazing contentedly.
Her attention once more on her work, she stared in disbelief. The scene
depicted did not match her surroundings. Sarah’s intent had been to capture the
sunlight filtering through the trees, the waterfall, and the multicolored
wildflowers covering the banks—the serenity of nature on a picturesque morning
in the mountains of Idaho.
Instead, the soft light had somehow become fog, seeping in from a
foreboding and dark landscape. The multicolored wildflowers were all blood red,
the blue sky a dark gray, and, to her shock, there was someone in the
background. Sinister orbs glowed from a dark shadow hidden in the trees.
Apprehension seized Sarah. She scanned the area around her. Alarmed, she
searched the woods for any sign of Steven, or for the phantom that haunted her
painting. Steven had promised to join her for
a picnic lunch. That hour had passed. Worried, she gathered her materials and
hurriedly made her way back to the cabin.
*****
THIRD BOOK IN THE MURDER TRILOGY
Coming in March 2016
Murder & Obsession
Tagline:
Flames burn
between a hardboiled cop and a gifted artist
but soon extinguish as another man’s obsession ignites into an inferno of
desire, driving him to destroy the object of his madness…
Blurb:
Love is never easy, but for Detective Steve Quaid and his fiancée,
Sarah, their road to happiness is laden with minefields.
Steven’s countless hours reconverting his grandfather’s cabin into the
perfect honeymoon retreat for Sarah soon becomes a bloody crime scene detailing
her death. Accused, Steven escapes into the Alaskan mountains, biding his time
to find the truth…
Who killed his beloved?
A seasoned woodsman, he outsmarts even the cleverest of trackers. All
but one…
Mauled by a grizzly, a half-dead Steven barely escapes.
But will he live to bring the true
murderer to justice?
Excerpt
Powerful
arms carried her; the same arms that
moments ago held her under the ice-cold water of the Koyukuk River. Sarah
screamed for help. Her abductor laughed. She cried
again, and louder, the effort scarring her throat like a flame swallowed but
not extinguished.
"Shut
up, bitch, there's no one out here going to help you." The monster
laughed, and the sound kept her from descending fully into the depths. She
grappled for lucidity. Seconds later, he threw her like a sack of shit onto
something hard. Her head smashed into metal. Darkness threatened to consume
her.
A
slammed door rattled her brain in an explosion of sound and pain; she fought to
clear the haze obscuring reality. Sarah
struggled for movement, but her arms were tightly bound at her sides. Her eyes were open,
but all she saw was darkness. Panic climbed from her toes to her chest and
every muscle tightened in fear. Her lungs struggled for air. Her old nemesis,
claustrophobia, fought for control of her senses. She coughed, and foul river
water exploded from her mouth and flowed down her neck and chest. Fighting her
deepest fears, Sarah knew she had to suppress the panic surging through her
gut. She prayed for strength and willed the desperation gone.
With
control over her breathing, she achieved some semblance of awareness and
realized she lay on the backseat of a vehicle, her naked body cocooned securely
in an animal hide. She felt the cold of the Koyukuk on her skin. Her hair, a
mass of slime, was like melting icicles against her back. Her body flamed with
a chill that burned so deep she thought Freon flowed through her veins. Panic built
until oblivion consumed her.
Minutes
later, she came to and slowly reaffirmed her location, but wondered if they'd drugged
her again. Struggling against the beckoning
darkness, she used every ounce of courage she could muster to pacify each synapse
telling her life depended on fight or flight. She realized her head now rested
on the lap of a stranger. His arms held her firmly in place while the vehicle
bounced over rough ground. Welcome To My
Nightmare by Alice Cooper blared from surround-sound speakers. Her captors
laughed and sang as though Alice Cooper had penned their theme song. Blackness
won again, but the next time she came to, she heard clearly the voices of the
people responsible for her anguish.
"God
damn it. What fun. Went like clockwork. The boss will be pleased."
She
recognized the voice of the man who abducted her, Yurij, an ugly brute, a
Russian, who spoke perfect English and had the manners of a flesh-eating troll.
His
girlfriend, Gladys, had the same hostility as her fiancé. She responded with
irritation, "We’ve done what he asked. Tell me it's over and we don’t owe
him anything else."
"Once
we deliver the girl, it’s over. Our future, our family, is all that matters,"
Yurij said.
With
those words, Sarah remembered details. Memories—cloudy, violent, and terrifying—rushed
forward. The air warmed, and her body shook involuntarily from chills that
generated deep inside. The arms around her tightened, and the man who held her
leaned close. He uncovered her face. She recognized him as the only kidnapper
with any compassion.
"Be
still, or they’ll drug you again. You'll be safe soon. Don’t fight. Do what
they say." He tightened the blanket around her and rubbed her arms to help
ease the shivering. He wrapped her hair in a towel. His efforts to make her
comfortable failed. "Keep cooperating and everything will be fine," he repeated, as though she had a
choice.
She
focused on his deep brown eyes, but the drugs they'd given her stole the last
remnants of her resolve. "Please tell Steven to hurry."
The
darkness summoned and she unwillingly surrendered.
*****
2 Comments
Hi Julia, great formatting! Thank you for the opportunity! I still remember our dinner discussions and all the plans you had for the future. It's wonderful to watch you achieve those - unstoppable woman that you are!
ReplyDeleteRenee it was awesome blogging with ya. I look forward to working with you in the future! You rock!!!
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