1: Thank you so much for being here, Vicki Batman.
I began writing fiction about seven-ish years ago.
2: What inspired you to write?
On a road trip home with girlfriends, one wanted to play a question game. She asked, "Write the opening paragraph of a book using the word window." I had nothing and if I said something, I was paranoid it would be sh***y because deep down inside I'd never told anyone I wanted to write.
They gave me a reprieve to go home and send something out the following week. When I sat down, I wrote eight chapters. My friend said to keep going and so I have!
3: What do you like the most and least about writing?
I LOVE playing "What If???" I dislike the promotional stuff we have to do now.
4: What do you for fun and relaxation when not writing?
I'm a crafty gal J I needlepoint. Learning to crochet and tatting. I like long walks while listening to classical guitar. Go to movies. Watch tv. I read and read. Mmmmmm.
5: Which authors do you like to read?
My all-time fav is mystery author, Dick Francis. Linda Howard, Janet E, Sue Grafton, Elizabeth George, Luanne Rice, and my friend, Lori Wilde.
6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you? My sons say I'm a pretty cool mom.
7: Tell me about your current novel, where I can find it and your website/blog.
"I Believe," is my sexy novella with a touch of magic. "Twinkle Lights," a holiday story, will be available thru Muse It Up Publishing. Find out about me at: http://vickibatman.blogspot.com OR http://plottingprincesses.blogspot.com
8: Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?
Persevere. Write. Read.
9: Do you base your characters on real-life people?
Handsome, my hubby, says and does some crazy things--I know, who would have thought, lol--which have made it into my stories.
10: Where do you get your ideas and what inspired you to write this book?
If Handsome keeps saying and doing the crazy things, I'm set. I've been inspired by a tie, my grandmother's tomato cake recipe, lots of traffic tickets (okay, that was a story I heard), bad Valentine dates (yep, I did get a Dear John letter).
11: What are you currently working on? It's sorta a secret. I do have a bunch of short pieces I haven't sold and I am exploring.
12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?
Is this where I put in I was in a music video? Or was Miss Oak Lawn Moped? Or asked seven guys to a dance in high school? Ooops, that's a lot of secrets. LOLOL
Here's a bit from an unedited "Twinkle Lights":
"I don't believe it." Hands on hips, I stood in front of the large, white tent. No happy shoppers bustled in and out. No "All I Want For Christmas is You" blasted from a boom box. No holiday cheer at all.
Instead, a notice, which looked to be hastily scribbled, had been stuck on the flap with gray duct tape: Axel's Christmas Trees Closed. Heart attack. Pray.
I shook my head, saying to the nippy wind whipping my hair and unbuttoned jacket, "Poor Axel. This is horrible. Where will the funds for the Sommerville Hospital come from?"
My stomach kinked into a hard knot as I tucked my tote to my waist. I'd been buying my tree here since...forever. Definitely, since I was a blossoming idea in my parents' mind. Mom and Dad brought my brother and me the first Saturday in December every year for the family tree. Who could forget the ensuing arguments over the perfect one (Mom usually won), and the joy of trimming it.
All grown up, I continued the tradition. Axel had the most beautiful trees. The stand benefited the hospital, this year the children's cancer wing where his grandson had undergone treatment for leukemia. He always-always-always stashed aside a seven-foot Fraser fir for me. Nothing spelled Christmas better than a fresh, North Carolina Fraser fir.
Now what do I do? Where do I go? Should I call Axel's son and see if he needs any help?
I stared into the December sky. A blast of cold air hit my arms. Unprepared for the rapidly declining temperatures, shivers skittered on my body. I overlapped my arms.
Did I even want to go somewhere else? There were limited options.
Or should I take the plunge like the rest of America and get a fake one?
Ick. The very suggestion of an artificial tree sent pea-green queasies to my stomach. Simply, they weren't nature made, nor had the mind-blowing scent. Who'd choose phony?
Not me. Never, ever.
Returning to the flap, I lifted my hair off my neck and shook it out while considering what next?? for the bazillionth time. Unexpectedly, a light brush grazed my upper arm. A glance to my right told me a dark-haired man close to my age had stooped alongside me to read the sign. I tilted away, massaging the spot.
He straightened to an attractive, towering height and looked at me. "What happened?"
Thanks so much, Roseanne, for having me and happy writing!!!