And today I have the lovely and talented writer Carol Bond as my featured author.
So glad you agreed to this, because I happen to know already you have a great book and you are a wonderful person. It makes me all warm and fussy inside to be able to showcase you and your book which is about to get published. Now let’s not dilly-dally away the precious time of my readers and get on with the interview.
Tell me, what is the title of the book you would like to talk about?
The name of my book is – The Unseen Promise. It is the first book in the Tarkeenia Sagas.
I must say that this is a really great cover. (personal opinion, but I like it a lot.)
Did you have difficulty coming up with the title?
If you would have to change the genre, what would it be then?
If for some reason I could not longer work in the genre of Fantasy, then I would change to Historical. Not the mushy kind of love and sex, there is certainly enough of that to go around. But true historical–violent, in your face kind of story. There is so much room to move in this genre and I believe it to a fascinating place to wander about it.
What don’t you like about writing, or whatever you need to do marketing wise?
The learning side of the after birth of writing–post writer is a frustrating time for me. There is so much learning and the time spend on social media to not only understand, what is needed to execute a successful marketing campaign, but to maintain a name in such a busy community is exhausting. I think that it is a must if you wish sales but it certainly takes away precious writing time.
Tell me, when your muse is visiting and you’re on a roll, what would seriously drive her/him away?
It is swimming for me. God bless the up and down of lane swimming. I realized 14 months ago that not only can I exercise in the gentle strokes but I have found my mind clears in a form of meditation. I am able to see clearly the workings of my book. Problem solving and extended plots. Character formations and the bliss of my fantasy world.
When I am out of the pool the world encroaches upon this world with its whining and wanting. Don’t get me wrong, I can still put myself somewhere away and write, but it is clearer in the water.
What does your muse look like?
My muse is not solid – it is a form of happiness. It used to be a negative emotion that I would draw on to write but I found out that writing in a negative mind set is deconstructive and produces poor quality work. I find when I am settled my writing flows. So no exact description for me.
Do you ever speak to your characters and do you get along all the time?
Oh for sure – I am currently working with about 40+ characters, each with individual personalities of course. Some have accents; some are evil and others generous and loving. There are those that are odd and creative, while others permeate greed and selfish behavior. They of course, don’t all get along with each other for they are exist to bring tension to a story. For me, we are family and I would not be at all surprised to see myself in many of them. I must say that there are also, a number of characters who reflect people I know. What a better way to develop characters, than to draw from what is around you.
Can you name the food and drink that will surely get you started?
Nothing to say on this question, I don’t use food or drink to get the juices flowing.
Would you be able to come up with an excuse on why you haven’t written a whole day, and have me believe it too?
Here’s one – I get up and move off to work, a full day merchandising for Sony and Universal Pictures. On my feet from store to store and when I am done, it’s time for shopping. Not the luxury kind but food and such. Then home we come, feeling like I’ve been put the wringer. Now for the chores – cooking a meal, reporting for work, a bath cause I really need one after the day, look after the dogs, give a bit of time to my best friend and man, setting up for the next day and wacko – off to bed.
Is that good enough?
Hahaha, that sounds an awful lot like real life and no excuse at all, but I’ll buy it.
And finally why would you ever want to live life behind a keyboard slaving over a manuscript?
Oh the bliss of writing – living in a world that is all mine. Since I can’t pilot a ship off the current one I am residing on, writing is the next best thing.
A short spiel about me
I am not an exciting person by any long shot but I am steady and true. My word is important and my adorable charm is another lol. I am a mum with three very grown up adults of my own. I live in Adelaide, Australia and living upside down to the rest of world, leave me with the blood rushing to my head.
My hard party days are behind me now, fading into the sunset and giving me a chance to breath again. I love to read and write. Having discovered that the simple things are the most pleasurable is a fortune worth more than gold.
Let me see – my view of secrets are, that I don’t have any. Lol and that is practically the truth. Secrets are more trouble than what they’re worth so I bare myself to the naked truth as often as I can.
Synopsis of my book
Even an Immortal feels the bite of boredom, and for brothers and sisters that don’t get on, it makes living on Tarkeenia, a dangerous place to be. Ten Gods argue about whether or not a new world, for their own amusement, should be created. And with so much Wild Magic in one place, it would have been remiss to not safeguard its potency. Father with his blazing eyes, might chase stars and scatter suns on a single thought, but saying no to his children was something, the God found almost impossible to do. Still, their asking was a dangerous game. So, with a snap of two illusionary fingers, Father conjured a moon and it became the key. Another snap and it cracked it in half – he called it the Pata Batu. The Wild Magic was sealed and with it all who live beneath.
Tarkeenia struggles between the light and the dark, good and bad, ups and downs, in fact, being anything other than boring will get you into trouble. Ten Gods, each with an agenda of their own, plot and plan to their hearts content.
Tragedy and pain follows Roedanth, from Crows Nest to the Halls of Coowic where the Magi live. Torn from his simple life as a Coppersmith, Roedanth is named murderer and thief. Is there no one he can turn to for help? Sentenced to the stake for burning, on the orders of the King and Biscop, the young man pleads to the heavens for deliverance.
Drakite, the darkest of all Gods, cruel and malignant laughs as he gathers the young man’s words into his bony hand. Words spoken in ignorance are binding nonetheless, tying him tight with a promise unseen. Leaving Crows Nest, Roedanth makes his escape and stumbles into Widow’s Wood, unprepared for what lay ahead with the mad Magdeline. Her vengeance can only lead to his death. Another escape and this time the young man falls in stride with two unlikely travelling companions. Coal – the fire sprite and Brar – a fed up and frustrated Jaroona.
Specks roam the land, flesh eaters to be feared and hated. They hunt the weak and the strong, turning everything in their path to dust. At their side, walks Ro’Brar, an exiled Mage from the Halls of Coowic, and as the Nest cross over the Murdock border. War and death take on a new face.
Father was the oddest of Specks, he lusts after a human woman – a dark skinned Benzine beauty from the Spotted Clan. Pellimac smells of the sun and open skies, of fresh earth and horse dung. Is it love that keeps her safe, locked away in a dark hole from the hungry horde? Is it love that gives Father, something he wants, children of his own?
Born of Speck and man, the twins Kitty and Hi’ayman share traits from two worlds. A little something from their human mother Pellimac, who in captivity is fast losing her mind and from Father a lot of Speck. How they hate Ro’Brar and his grandiose plans, Kitty more than most despises the Mage. She fears the shift of power within the Nest. But despite her brother’s urgings, she seeks to destroy the Mage and his foul magic.
Murrdocks dislike humans; it’s ironic because they are themselves a blending of animal and human. In fact, they hate humans so much, that they have closed the borders to Kinaloch. Now the King is sick, dying, struck down with a strange and sudden infliction. He burns hotter every day and to counter his illness the Murdock must ask the Halls of Coowic for help. Magic must be fought with magic, but while Prince Pec seeks a cure, Bollag, the royal’s rival seeks a crown. If he can produce the body of a dead King and that of the son, then the council would have no choice but to give him the throne.
Pellimac – daughter of the Horse people is insane. Her mind is lost to a world of filth and darkness. Nuumandrai – Chief of the Spotted Clan must make a choice. He can no longer endure her fits of madness, and bargains with the dwarf healers from Machobe to find her a measure of peace. Buckets of glass, an exquisite and rare commodity in exchange for their help, how can any capitalistic dwarf refuse such a generous offer? Waiting in the dark, sniffing the air waits Father. His love has returned.
Every Mage strives for balance in a world bubbling with Wild Magic, while remaining true to their Calling. However, there are always exceptions to the rule. Kahlu, second chair to the Halls council has very specific plans and they include his new pupil Roedanth. Happy endings are never guaranteed and with the Dark God – Drakites’ devoted attention to the young man’s wishes, how could there be?
The lives of man and monster hang in the balance, subject to the whims of Gods. Can Tarkeenia survive the tug and pull of the very spoilt and very wicked? Can those lost to the dark find a way back to the light? Is it possible to forget, or to forgive and begin again? All these questions and more are answered, as the reader walks the many paths of Tarkeenia.
My best shot from The Unseen Promise
Kitty licked her lips. Her tongue slid out into the night air for the hundredth time, this waiting was unbearable, and her hunger, cramping like a gnawing rat, hurt so. If she didn’t feed soon, her belly would distend and the pain. Dear Lord, the pain would cripple her. They would find her then, of this, she was certain. It was this fear that spurred her on.
She had developed a fondness for human flesh, the sour rusting taste of hot blood made her mouth water. Voices drifted through the walls of the stables, the straw jabbed her, the smell of dung made her nauseous, and she was oh, so hungry now.
‘Where are you?’ she growled. Roedanth had been gone too long. What the hell! She was hungry.
From shadow to shadow, under the watchful eye of the Pata Batu, in the blue and rose hues of the evening light, Kitty made her way towards the voices.
They grew louder and, some -what younger. The room bathing in yellow light was filled with children. Fledglings soft of meat and clean; very clean blood. She couldn’t help herself, Kitty raised her eyes over the window ledge and saw, with eyes wide a mouth-watering buffet.
Twelve boys and girls talked and laughed, some stretched out on their cots wriggling their toes, while others swapped stories in a gale of theatre play. All were oblivious to the danger as Kitty watched on.
Through the window and over to a tall nightstand, it was the perfect cover. Down went a fair-haired girl, she couldn’t have been more than eight years old, it was a clean kill and her whispering moan went unnoticed. Using a little of the girl’s sticky blood, the Speck slithered on her belly to the next cot. This time, a boy drew his last breath on a name, he cried ‘Mother.’ Kitty laughed at that, flecks of blood sprayed onto the bed sheets, she didn’t know her mother, so what did she care?
A child noticed a spreading pool of blood; it floated on the floor, creeping towards the feet of the youngest, Bella Hiela. She, of course, screamed and then screamed some more, a small hand found her mouth and stuffing it full of fingers, she began to cry. The noise, awful in its entirety rose in pitch over a squabbling pair of older boys.
“Cut your screaming Bella! How can we hear ourselves yell with all that cat-calling?” One of the youngsters shot off a ‘boo hoo’ and stopped short when he saw the blood. “What’s that? What in the hell is that?” His voice shook with panic.
“Barney, you sound like a girl…” but his friend’s laughter drained away as he was pulled off the cot, he disappeared under the bed.
Kitty’s head poked out from where the boy had just been, she grinned, her razor teeth stained red and her pink chin hair dripped blood, drip, drip onto the floor. The remaining children, all white faced with pants probably full of shit, opened their mouths in wide O’s and sounds, a terrible chorus of distress and fear began to sing, even Kitty had the grace to look shocked as she took up the charge. Out whipped her hand; strong fingers grabbed the closest child, poor Bella Hiela, her throat, ripped away wasn’t screaming anymore.
She made short work of the rest. In the room littered with mangled flesh and blood soaked sheets, Kitty felt full. For the first time in weeks, the half cast felt happy. This time when she licked her lips it was to clean them of blood.
Okay, now we know about you and the book, but where do we go to buy it?
Ooooh, we can’t buy it just yet because you’ve signed with a publisher a few days ago and it will be published soon? What great news! I knew it was a good one and had no doubt you’d land a deal with it. Fantastic!
But where can we stalk you? Erm, I mean, follow, befriend and whatever you and the progress on your book’s publishing?
The Unseen promise site