We're in Alberta, Canada this week with Lavinia Thompson, author of "Spellbound by Fire", a dark fantasy novel and "She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle", a book and journal of poems. As you can see Alberta is a beautiful area to explore. We've set up a campsite and will build a fire just before evening sets in, near the water's edge, to chat with Lavinia. We have plenty of chairs, blankets and flashlights to go around. So pick a spot, pitch your tent and come join us for a spell.
Reader’s
Haven: Welcome Lavinia and thank you for inviting us up here! It's so peaceful and calm. Tell us a bit
about yourself that our readers might
not know.
Lavinia:
One thing most of my readers know is that I grew up in a home where domestic
violence and abuse was prevalent. It was always there, up until about 2004 when
Mom’s abusive ex burned the house down. In that house fire I lost my original
draft of my novel, Spellbound by Fire. I didn’t start it over seriously until
about 2008, about the same time that I realized just what kind of power writing
can have if utilized properly. I wanted to write to send out the message that
violence towards women, children and spouses in general, male or female, should
not be tolerated. Abuse is terror. It is a horrific display of power that when
disabled, reveals the monster as it is. Once I had Spellbound written, I
started on my poetry book, She Wasn’t Allowed to Giggle. A “personal purging,”
as one reviewer called it, of my abusive childhood.
Reader’s Haven: What made you want to become a writer?
Lavinia:
When I was younger, writing was an escape from the every day terror I lived
with. I’d sit in my basement bedroom, listen to the screaming and fighting
upstairs, then eventually turn on my music as loud as it would go and I would
write. Spellbound originally wasn’t a serious project, it was just a fantasy
world where I lost myself. At the same time that the abuse was happening at home,
I was also bullied at school, so writing became the only happy place I had. So
I never necessarily said “I want to become a writer.” It was always just there,
it was my escape. That escape turned into a life ambition and a dream. And here
I am!
Reader’s Haven: Kudos to you for following your dream and not letting your past drag you down. We see your experience has definitely made you a stronger person! Do you write under a pen name?
Lavinia: Yes I do.
Reader’s Haven: What type of hero or heroine do you like best?
Lavinia: I like a strong
female character- not the damsel in distress types. I like a female who can
stand up for herself, defend herself, persevere, but at the end of the day is
still a woman who can love. I like male characters that aren’t too masculine,
one who isn’t always the hero and has believable flaws. I like heroes and
heroines who are believable characters, no matter how much of a fantasy the
world itself is.
Reader’s Haven: How many plots do you include in one of your books?
Lavinia:
Many. In Spellbound, I think I finished with about 16 plots. There is such a
thing as having too many plots, but having the right balance keeps things
interesting.
Reader’s
Haven: And to entice the readers, we've included an except of "Spellbound" below. Tell us about a typical day in your life as a
writer.
Lavinia:
I’m not a full time writer yet (unfortunately) so I do have what some people
would call a real job. Yes, one of those places that pays you for doing stuff.
I clean hotel rooms during the day and write in the evening. I am usually
nocturnal but having a job screws that up a little. While I am writing in the
evening, I am usually simultaneously on Facebook and Twitter doing some book
marketing as well, looking for reviewers and interviews and so on.
Reader’s
Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they
all different?
Lavinia:
Right now my books have a common theme- stopping and preventing violence
against women and children. It is the focus of the Spellbound series and it is
what I was purging when I wrote my poetry book. She Wasn’t Allowed to Giggle is
a compilation of a bunch of old poems that survived the house fire and poems I
wrote in the last few years as well. I included some journal entries in prose
form as well, bringing together my life as a terrified little girl growing up
to be a haunted woman. I have a few more stories in the planning stages right
now that steer away from that theme though. Currently, aside from the
Spellbound sequel, I am working on a short novella (Working title: “Abrianna.”)
that focuses on the bullying of gay kids in light of the string of suicides
that has been in the media lately. Gay rights and discrimination is another
issue I have at heart, as many of my friends are LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual,
Transgender).
Reader’s
Haven: How long does it
take you to write and then edit a story?
Lavinia:
Well, Spellbound took me almost ten years but that’s because of circumstances.
When I really got down to writing it full time in the summer of 2009, it took
me about three or four months. Editing took me about four or five more months
as I was in college full-time that autumn. So just under a year, I’d say. The
Spellbound sequel has been slower, but I intend to get right back to that after
Abrianna is completed. I work on several projects simultaneously, so the amount
of time it takes to get one done varies.
Blurb
Never again: those were the two words every innocent witch waited to hear after the nefarious Black Guards took over the country of Nevermore, savagely hunting and torturing witches for 35 years. Twenty year old Janey Black never thought they would rip through the little village of Tia Justace, but they did just that.
Spellbound is an adult fiction novel that explores the cycles of violence against women and the lives it affects. Janey loses everything she has ever known in one day when the Black Guards execute the aunt who raised her, after making a fateful promise to her aunt Olivia that she would never give up. She finds herself alone until she is rescued by chance by a witch rescuer named Shane and taken to a witch refugee camp. Soon, Janey is helping rescue tortured witches from the infamous Warbeck prison and learning the truth behind her own past from Jill, an old friend of her aunt’s. Janey discovers the legacy her aunt left in helping create the series of underground tunnels and portals that saves the lives of women and children everyday right under the noses of the Black Guards. Through the agony of torture and bloodshed she is shown the humanity of love and kindness; how it is the key to breaking the cycles of hatred and violence. Even in Billy Eagle, the man she loves, there is a child who never got to grow up, his own innocence shattered after witnessing the death of his mother as a seven year old. They both find themselves stranded, with only each other to count on in spite of their reckless flaws.
Through the despair and hopelessness that seems to hang like a black cloud over Nevermore, Janey needs to find a way to survive and live on through her aunt’s lasting and impacting legacy, to find the day when the two words would be the one thing to bring down the Black Guards… Never again.
Reader’s Haven: Wow! That's a strong excerpt and will certainly draw the readers in to the story. Do you have to be alone to write?
Lavinia:
Most times, yes, though right now my fiancé and I share our writing and editing
space, so often he is right beside me while I am writing. I don’t mind it too
much.
Reader’s Haven: How do you go about naming characters?
Lavinia:
Depends on the character. Main characters get a bit of thought put into their names.
I look through name books or websites until a name will just jump out that fits
that character, and then sometimes I take the name’s meaning into
consideration. For secondary characters, I usually just a pick a name.
Reader’s
Haven: Is it easier to write about the characters if
you find pictures of them before you write or do you write then find character
pictures?
Lavinia:
I write and then find character pictures. A character starts forming in my head
weeks before I start even planning. The main character is usually the first
thing to come to life from a story. I get into their head, place them in
potential scenes, get their voice into my head and picture them. And then when
I feel comfortable with them I create their character profile and the story
goes from there.
Reader’s Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?
Lavinia: I created the
fantasy world for Spellbound. I don’t even remember when I did that. It just
seems like the world was always in my head. Nevermore is a place I go to when I
need to escape. For my other stories, it’s really just a matter of which
location seems to fit the story. My crime-fiction, Magic Touch, is set in Vancouver because of
certain places in the city that fit the story.
Reader's Haven: This is why writing is so fun; describing these settings in a story so the readers can escape there too. Lavinia, thank you again for visiting with us this week.
Readers, Lavinia is giving a copy of Spellbound, winner's choice of eBook format, to one lucky commenter. Please be sure to leave your email address in your comment so Lavinia can contact the winner. We'll draw the winner on Jan 28.
You can find Lavinia hanging out on these sites:
Purchase links:
On Smashwords, Lavinia's short story "Travis" is free for a limited time. Go up and get a copy!
Excerpt: "Spell Bound by Fire" - Chapter 11
Before the first tear could slide sorrowfully down Janey's
cheek, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Jill stood above her, a sweet smile
across her face as she sat down in the grass beside Janey. Gertie stood up and
wandered off wordlessly towards where other women and children were waiting for
care.
“Well, you're alright,” Jill said without asking, though
Janey wasn't so sure. Taking the deepest breath she had in what seemed like
days, she set her head in hands.
The screams still
resonated through her mind, screams of the one she couldn't save, from
somewhere in the dark where she shrieked something unbearable. The growls that
lurked in the bushes before the yellow eyes showed themselves as what they
really were, encircling the girls in a protective pack around the blood stained
dirt, then the howls that resonated through the night, the mourning in their
cries for the ones who were suffering. They were beautiful in their brutality,
stunningly sombrous with the blood glinting off their sharpened teeth...again
and again it flashed through Janey's mind...the mutilated bodies of the Black
Guards, the horrid ripping of skin and the morbid tearing of hearts from their
chests, torn to pieces and avenged with the blood spilled in savagery.
“I guess,” Janey replied dismally.
There was an inconsolability like that of a child forced to
look at her life ahead without her mother, the unbreakable bonds forced to snap
in one unexpected moment. It left her hollow within, the wounds that wouldn't
heal like the punched-out holes in the moon. The wolves had saved her life but
she was staring down a lifetime ahead of her and she didn't know what to do
with it.
Live your life, be
happy...remember me as you loved me...
Jill sat silently for a few moments, as if debating what to
say. Her hazel eyes saddened at the sight of Janey, one more girl brutalized by
the Black Guards. Gertie had bandaged Janey's wrists again, did what healing
she could, but as Janey rubbed her arms she knew that some wounds wouldn't be
healed.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Jill asked. Janey
shook her head.
“I don't know. I don't even know what to do,” she said, the
harrowing hurt tearing at her haggard heart in ways she never knew she could
feel. Jill put an arm around her shoulder.
“The hardest part is moving on. It's not something that's
easy to get past. But I'm here if you need anything, OK?” Jill told her. Janey
bit her lip.
“Really?” she asked as that weak, unprotected feeling washed
over her again. She never knew just how safe she had been with Olivia, not
until she was gone and the fact she was never coming back was as real as the
life before her.
“I would never let Olivia's niece go undefended. Your aunt
meant a lot to me. I don't have the conscience to simply let you go it alone,”
Jill told her. Janey pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them close with
every memory slipping into the atrabilious corners of her soul.
Dark nights when Janey
would wake up, screaming from her nightmares, that dim candlelight in the
darkness when she would awaken and Olivia would be at her bedroom door to
ensure she was alright. Olivia's soft hands would wipe away the tears as Janey
cried at one more hurt in this life. They'd sit up nights on end to talk,
laugh, cry or just be with each other. As much as Janey told herself it
couldn't be true, the loneliness tearing her up inside was the livid truth
showing itself as a reality. Closing her eyes, she could feel her aunt's hands
on her face one last time...
“I'm so sorry...”
“Janey, some things will never heal. It's a fact we have to
face. You may never be completely healed of this ordeal but you have to move
on. I knew Olivia well enough to know that's something she would have taught
you. It's what she did after Wolfe died. It's all you can do now,” Jill explained.
“So what do I do?” Janey asked, fallen so far in the
downcast of emotions she felt as if she’d never be able to move from there, as
if she’d stay forever where she could be miserable with herself. Jill let out a
little smile.
“Janey, dear...stick with me. I'll find things for you to
do.”
***
“There you go, bring your elbow up just a little
more...perfect...” Jill said patiently, adjusting Janey's arm up by her face.
Janey stared into the middle of an old navy blue Nevermore
flag, a great silver unicorn prancing in graceful ripples across the old silken
fabric. The bow sat intently by her face, her dark hair flowing all around her
and her elbow high as she glared down the middle of the elegant body, the
sharpened point of the arrow a deathly edge in the radiant sunlight.
Gracefully, Janey released the arrow. The bow sat empty in
her hand as the arrow plummeted the invisible heart of the exquisite creature
on the flag, pegged viciously to the tree. Janey let out a breath at the same
time.
“Excellent! You are a natural, my dear,” Jill commented with
an approving smile, stroking Janey’s matted hair.
“Thanks, gets easier every time,” Janey replied, staring
into her target.
“Indeed, and we've only been at this for just under a week.
Good skill to know, though. You can be as discreet as a wolf and just as swift
to the attack,” Jill told her.
“Nice,” Janey said, lowering the bow to her side as she
strolled to the tree and roughly pulled the arrow from the unicorn's fabric
chest. The flag blew back to life briefly upon the warm breeze before settling
against the tree trunk again. The navy blue of the flag was faded to a shade
that nearly matched Janey's eyes. She sauntered back to Jill, her bare feet
brushing the fresh green grass beneath her and the tiny yellow wildflowers that
were showing their happy faces in the daylight.
“That looks like a pretty old flag,” Janey remarked
offhandedly as she reached Jill's side. Jill stared into the stunning creature
prancing, its left leg lifted regally and its spiral horn dangerous and
mystical.
“So it is. It'd be over forty years old. It was the nation’s
flag before the Black Guards took over Nevermore and changed it,” she explained
with a subtle sigh. Janey frowned curiously.
“What do you mean?” she questioned. Jill looked over to her
quizzically.
“Do you not know of the takeover years ago?”
“Not much besides the fact that the Black Guards rule
Nevermore right now,” Janey replied. The story had never really mattered much
back in Tia Justace. All anyone knew was that it was happening and there was
little they could do to stop it.
“Well, my dear,” Jill
started as she pulled an arrow from the grass beside her and set it delicately
in her bow, “this whole ordeal with the Black Guards started forty years ago,
by a man with the name Ulric Al Tedesco. He was a vile man, loathed women with
every ounce of his filthy being. I remember the rise of the Black Guards,
starting out as just a small political group out to put witches and, in my
opinion, women in general, to shame. No one knows a lot about his upbringing,
but most figure his father had a lot to do with his prejudicial views. Yet, as
the nation would soon find out, he would drive what was then a mild witch scare
into complete hysteria.”
As she spoke the last few words, with her bow raised and
ready, she released the arrow to watch it dig itself bitterly into the wood.
Janey watched her wander over to the tree and yank the arrow from it. Janey bit
her tongue thoughtfully as Jill rejoined her.
“In the beginning, the Black Guards mainly staged protests,
had some witch burnings and otherwise sorry excuses for witch hunts that gradually
become more severe. King Terence and Queen Alanis had a horrendous time keeping
them at bay,” she continued as she stared into the flag again. Her
reddish-brown hair fell brightly around her shoulders. It blew ever so slightly
on the breeze whispering through the trees, her dark brown eyes glaring darkly
as she spoke.
“Then, 35 years ago and five years after Tedesco started the
Black Guards, that all changed. On the wedding night of the King and Queen's
only son, Prince Noah, the Black Guards attacked the palace. King Terence was
captured, unarmed and unguarded, forced to watch the Black Guards burn his wife
alive before they murdered him too. Prince Noah and his bride, Kassandra,
escaped that night, to this day rumoured to be in hiding,” Jill explained
nonchalantly. It must have been a story she knew all too well, reliving the day
often and wondering if Nevermore would ever have a rightful king again.
“Wow...” Janey pondered for a moment. Tapping an arrow on
her shoulder, Jill continued.
“Tedesco took over the palace after that. No Prince or Royal
Family left meant that the kingdom was free to take. Massive witch hysteria
followed. Thousands of women were arrested, put on ridiculous trials, tortured
and executed. Trivial gossip became enough evidence to arrest a woman. Under
torture these women would name names to avoid more suffering, and those women
would name names for the same reason and it would go on, each woman putting
more women into the same position; can't blame them. As you and I know, torture
is unbearable enough let alone being asked stupid questions at the same time.
Been through pretty barbaric torture myself, stuff I won't even get into. But I
couldn't tell you how many met their execution as a result of me. I don't
remember the names I've named, nor what happened to them. I sure feel terrible
though. Nothing will bring them back. Their families have to live without them
but I live on because I implicated them into something they never did. It never
ends...” Jill explained quietly. Janey thought she saw a hint of shame flicker
in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure.
Watching Jill's aging face in the flickering sunlight, Janey
could see the years of agony, guilt and fatigue dripping through the lines on
her fair skin. She was no older than Olivia had been but her ongoing fight
against the Black Guards seemed to age her faster. Janey was beginning to
understand why the woman did what she did. Janey herself knew that she never
wanted to be the reason another woman died senselessly.
“Tedesco was killed by Prince Noah about six years after the
royal wedding. Noah barely made it out of there alive. He disappeared once
again, leaving the kingdom this time to Tedesco's right hand man and best
friend, Norbert Bagan, who, four years later, was killed by Olivia. Now the
kingdom is ruled by Norbert's good for nothing son, Marcus Bagan,” she
explained with a dull tone to her low voice.
His presence dominated
the room, his black hair sweeping his shoulders menacingly. His dark eyes were
intent upon Olivia.
“So...you killed my
father, did you, bitch?” he said slyly.
“I met him...in the prison, right after Olivia confessed,”
Janey blurted suddenly, the shadows of her bruised and agonized face darkening
to a vengeful anger. The very memory of his sly, drawling voice as he stared
down Olivia with despicable hatred brought back the anguish boiling in Janey's
blood. Jill glanced at her with an expression that was not surprised at all.
“Well,” she sighed, picking up two more arrows, handing one
to Janey before setting one in her bow, “of course he would have wanted to at
least look at the woman who killed his father before she was executed.”
Jill drew the bow again, setting it beside her thinning
face. She let it go, with a dramatic pull back of her hand in the air, her eyes
glowering intensely as the arrow shot the heart of the fabric unicorn one more
time. Janey sighed as she drew her bow and arrow, staring straight at the heart
of the ragged and frayed flag rippling softly on the breeze. Her hands were
shaking as she envisioned Marcus standing in place of the tree, his cold heart
the middle of that flag, her fingers swiftly let go of the arrow as her eyes
followed it straight to the heart of her vision. Silently, she made herself a
vow.
Take what you want from me,
Marcus. You will suffer for this I swear...I have a promise to keep.
