Tag Archives: small town

Interview With Chelsea Bolt, Author of “Moonshine”

What is your book about?

My book, Moonshine, is the tale of a young woman who has lost everything she loves. Having resorted to living hidden in the mountains, she is filled with many emotions and struggles to find her place in society, if it still exists. Meanwhile, two young men, Finn and his less than serious cousin, Clay, stumble upon Isis and her hideout. The novel follows the adventure that these three find themselves in. With small town tragedy encompassing them, they uncover the truths that have been hidden. Along the way, they meet much older and wiser guides that help these three young people through their own journeys. Various incidents make the relationship of these three stronger, even when the opposite appears to occur.

How long had the idea of your book been developing before you began to write the story?

I began developing the idea for Moonshine when I was sitting in Biology class in 10th grade. Eventually, I sat down with a spiral notebook and started writing about a month or so later.

Tell us a little about your main characters. Who was your favorite? Why?

Moonshine has three main characters: Isis Underwood, Finn Hazzard, and Clayton Hazzard. Isis has three primary characteristics: impulsive, brazen, and jaded. Finn can be best described as a silver-tongued fellow with a charming smile. Clayton Hazzard is simply, simple; he wanted no part in this venture he was thrown into. Of these three, my favorite character to write was Isis. She has so many layers, I haven’t even discovered them all yet. Her reactions are interesting to write, she has a whole spectrum that never land at the same place twice.

Who is your most unusual/most likeable character?

My most likeable character is Jeannie Seymour. She’s a guiding light for Isis, unaffected by Isis’s sassy tendencies. She, like Isis, has interesting past that has shaped who she has become. I wasn’t aware of how likeable she was until people asked me more about her.

What was the first story you remember writing?

The first story I remember sitting down to write was a paper I wrote in 7th grade about a group of dogs living in a junkyard. It was just a fun little short story. Our teacher wanted us to use dialogue in a paper she assigned, and I remember that as punishment for being so talkative in class, we had to write an extra two pages. At first I saw that as a punishment, but now I see that assignment as a blessing; that’s when I realized I could write an entertaining story.

Do you have mental list or a computer file or a spiral notebook with the ideas for or outlines of stories that you have not written but intend to one day?

Sitting in my desk drawers are cheap 90₵ spiral notebooks. Whenever I start to think of a storyline, I jot a few words down and doodle a few sketches of key themes I want to hit on in the piece.

What one book, written by someone else, do you wish you’d written yourself?

The one book I wish I had written would have to be Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain. It is a beautiful piece of literature and I try to read it every winter. The tale of Ada an Inman is such a wonderful love story and I wish to be able to one day write something half as moving.

Describe your writing in three words.

In three words my writing is: honest, homespun, and heartfelt.

Do you have a saying or motto for your life and/or as a writer?

My motto for life is: “You never know what’s just around the river bend.” Think about it: you never step into the same river twice.

If your book was made into a TV series or Movie, what actors would you like to see playing your characters?

If Moonshine was made into a movie I would like for Clare Bowen (Scarlet O’Conner on Nashville) to play Isis, Robbie Amell (Stephen Jameson on The Tomorrow People) to portray Finn, and Reid Ewing (Dylan on Modern Family) to act as Clayton.

What is something you never leave home without (apart from keys, money and phone)?

One thing that I never leave home without is my trusty Dr Pepper Lip Smackers lip balm. If I ever do happen to forget it, my lips feel naked and severely chapped.

What is your favorite place, real or fictional? Why?

My absolute favorite place in the world is my grandparents’ house. Their home has so much character and so many stories behind it. There is a story for everything in that house.

Where can we learn more about you and your book?

It’s available from Second Wind Publishing: http://www.secondwindpublishing.com/#!chelsea-bolt/c1rby and Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords,

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Chelsea-Bolt/689158317846614
Twitter: https://twitter.com/theonlybolt
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/theonlybolt/

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Excerpt – Death in a Small Town by H.V. Purvis

This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my new murder mystery, released September 6.

 

John slowed the airport rental car to a stop in front of the building. He did not get out. He was not sure he could. He sat there. The motor running. His heart raced. It was cool inside the car, but beads of sweat covered his brow. He flexed his fingers. Make a fist. Then straightened his fingers. He did this over and over. It was an exercise his shrink had given him to regain control of his nerves. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his mouth. He had flown from DC. Driving still tied his guts in knots. He rarely drove anymore. He rarely even left his apartment anymore. Now that he was here, he did not know if he could make himself go inside.

He knew before he left that this trip was going to be difficult, but it was something he had to do. He owed it to Stan. Now he sat in the car, his hands shaking, his heart racing, feeling sick to his stomach. His leg throbbed, even though the doctors said it should not. He cursed at himself and stared out the side window at the hundred year old southern colonial which loomed over the business end of a street of impressive older houses.

John had grown up further down this street. All the lawns were immaculate. He remembered that on Saturday mornings the older ladies, in their “working in the yard” clothes which looked just as nice as their “going to the store” clothes, would put on their straw hats and tend their roses and flower gardens. His hands shook as he raised the soda he bought after leaving the airport. It was warm, but he took another swallow, trying to work up the courage to turn off the engine and go inside.

He smacked the steering wheel with his hand. This is stupid! I’m a grown man, for God’s sake! He stared at the double front doors of the colonial building. A gut wrenching dread knifed through him. He looked away. There were too many ghosts in this town and particularly inside that building. He had spent the last five years avoiding those ghosts. He reached for the keys. His hand stopped short.

Horrible memories of his last visit to this town ripped him apart, but he owed Stan. They had been best friends since first grade, played football together, double dated together. When John went off to college, Stan joined the Parkwood police department. After college, John joined the bureau and moved to DC. Stan was always the one who reached out to make sure they did not lose touch. After the wreck, he called John in the hospital every day to check on him. At least once a week he drove the two-hour round trip Chapel Hill to visit and sit with him. Now Stan was dead. John leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.

Someone tapped on the window. John jerked upright. He had been lost, drifting in numbness land, and the tap startled him. His heart pounded harder. He looked over and saw his sister, Helen, standing in the street. Traffic moved slowly to go around safely. No one honked a horn. No one stared angrily at her. No one raised a fist or middle finger. Most of the people did throw up their hand, but it was a friendly wave. This was the way people were here.

Hoyle Purvis

Author of Extinction            http://www.hvpurvis.com, facebook page H.V. Purvis, twitter @hvpurvis

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