R.E. Sheahan
With boots crunching in the snow, the sweet scent of pine lingers among the trees...Deanna stops, shades her eyes and looks around. "I love the smell of pine trees! Louise, I think this is the spot where we meet R E Sheahan but I'm not sure."
Louise shivers and zips her quilted, flannel jacket up to the collar. "Dang, it's cold out here."
A twig snaps behind them. Louise and Deanna turn to see R E walking easily through the snow towards them. "Hello Louise and Deanna! Thank you for taking the time for an interview with me. This
is so much fun!"
Deanna opens her backpack, pulls out a thermos and then three large mugs. "I have hot cocoa and baileys, ladies, to warm us up! Hey, look! All the readers found us and want to meet you, too!"
"Readers, come join us as we welcome R E Sheahan to our blog this week. And there's a giveaway at the end! Check the details below. Come on, there's a covered shelter with blazing fire over there for us."
Reader's Haven: Hi R E! Before we start the interview, we wanted to let everyone know R E Sheahan's book is featured on our main site! Now R E tell us a bit about yourself that our readers might not know.
R E: I love to dance! I started Zumba about year and a half ago
and loved it. About five months ago, I started Line Dancing. Great fun!
Three weeks ago, I joined a Flash Mob dance group.
I will participate in my first Flash Mob on Valentine’s Day,
in front of the Courthouse, with a crowd of people, and cameras. Eek!
Reader's Haven: Sounds exciting and fun. What made you want to become a writer?
R E: I’ve always liked to write. To use words to convey emotion,
to right a wrong or stand up for a worthy cause.
I also have a wildly inventive imagination.
A few years ago, the two ganged up on me. Out of necessity
to keep my sanity, I wrote about characters, worlds, and the issues facing
those places. I got their story down on paper, so to speak, and found I truly
enjoyed the entire process. That creative release is very satisfying.
Reader's Haven: Please share a bit about your new release, Storm of
Arranon-Fire and Ice, without giving away any spoilers.
R E: Fire and Ice is the continuing story of Erynn Yager. In this
second book of the series, Erynn learns more about the mystical world of
Arranon, above and below the surface, while continuing to understand her growing
abilities.
Things aren’t always as they seem.
She finds this is true with love, also, as Jaer has some
past secrets of his own that return to haunt them both.
Speaking of haunting, there are ghosts, and some of these
spirits are out to stop Erynn from completing her mission.
Erynn’s biggest lesson in this book is that she doesn’t have
to carry out these tasks on her own.
Or does she?
Reader's Haven: Do you write under a pen name?
R E: No. R E Sheahan is what I write under, R E being Robynn
Elisabeth. I chose my initials because I felt shorter was better and both
Robynn and Elisabeth are uncommon spellings.
Reader's Haven: What types of hero or heroine do you like best?
R E: Hmmm. Okay. I recently read a Dean Koontz book, (an author I
love), but was disappointed with his female protagonist in this story. She was
whiney, weak, and came across less intelligent than she actually was. The worse
part, she really didn’t change much by the end of the book.
So, I guess I like stronger heroes and heroines. Not
arrogant or perfect, but I want them to stand up for themselves and others.
When they make mistakes, I want to see them take responsibility and do the
right thing even if it’s difficult.
Reader's Haven: Tell us about a typical day in your life as a writer.
R E: First, I check e-mails, FB, Twitter, and Goodreads. You
know, get caught up on what’s happening!
Lately, it’s been on to editing and formatting.
I try to read everyday and do reviews of books I’ve
finished.
In the next day or two, I’ll be back to writing the third
book in my Storm of Arranon series. Well, I did a very rough draft in
NaNoWriMo, but it needs filling in and expanding!
Reader's Haven: Do your books have a common theme or are they all different?
R E: Since the Storm of Arranon books are a series, yes, they are
the same.
I do have more ideas for books, waiting their turn, that
will be different in they will be more contemporary, but still have that
paranormal or fantasy edge.
Reader's Haven: How long does it take you to write and then edit a story?
R E: I wrote books two, three, and four during NaNoWriMo the last
three years. Fifty thousand words in thirty days. So I guess I can write the
first draft in a month.
I then spend about two to three months expanding,
describing, and making the story presentable to my beta readers.
When the manuscript is back from the beta readers, I edit.
This whole process can take a month or more.
Next, the book goes to my editor. This process takes the
longest, another month or two. My editor is tough, but she gets the best story
out of me!
The book now goes to the proofreader and when it has been
returned,
I read and edit once more.
Adding up the time, I would say it takes about seven months
to have a finished book.
Reader's Haven: Do you have to be alone to write?
R E: I can write either way. I finished book one while Parker,
six years old at the time, watched Disney Channel in the family room where I
was writing. I like that low level background noise.
Reader's Haven: How do you go about naming characters?
R E: Sometimes names come in dreams, or they’ve just been in my
head for a while from who knows where! (There’s that imagination again!) I also
use a Gaelic dictionary, or a Gaelic names guide to fashion a name for a
character.
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?
R E: Good question! I don’t have a visual image of my characters
in mind as I begin to develop them. As we get to know each other better, and I
learn more about who they are, and why they are, they take on their own
characteristics. Then I see them in my mind as I write. The best way I can
describe this is—It’s like a movie in my mind. I can slow it down, speed it up,
rewind, and change dialog or action until I’m satisfied with a particular scene
and the characters. At this point, I may insert an actor I have seen and like
for one of my characters. It just helps me visualize.
Reader's Haven: How do you pick locations for your stories?
R E: I grew up around forests, lakes, streams, and mountains. As
a kid, my friends and I played in the woods all day. We rode our horses through
meadows and along mountain trails and played imaginary games as we went. I
became familiar with the forest, the land, and the animals. So anything to do
with forests, I feel comfortable writing about.
Reader's Haven: What are you working on now and what should readers be
looking forward to from you in the future?
R E: Yipee! I hope to have book three, tentatively titled Storm
of Arranon-Allies and Enemies, ready to publish by late this summer! Book four,
no title yet, is in rough draft, (NaNoWriMo), format and I will be shooting for
a release date about this time next year. Book five is rattling around in my
head, waiting for NaNo this year.
I had planned at first to have only four books in the
series. Hmmm. Now there are five.
Several readers who enjoyed the first book have questioned
about a certain character possibly having his own book(s).
Intriguing!
Reader's Haven: Where can readers find out more about you and your books?
R E: Readers can find me and my books on the following sites:
***CONTEST***
One Ecopy and one print copy of each book, Storm of Arranon and Storm of Arranon-Fire and Ice to one lucky commenter! Enter the drawing by leaving a comment. Let R E know you stopped by and remember to include your email address so we can easily contact the winner. Thanks!
Please note Storm of Arranon is in print and Fire and Ice is eBook.
Excerpt from Fire and Ice
Chapter 1...
A HIGH PIERCING SCREAM RIPPED through icy air and echoed
along the dark intersecting tunnels. The shrieking faded and died.
Possession was a painful adjustment.
For the one being possessed.
Dhoran smiled. He felt the corners of the host’s lips jerk
in a reluctant response.
Resistance is useless.
The cowering consciousness slid into a dark recess of their
now shared mind, making room for the new, dominant one.
Destiny was on Dhoran’s side. This healthy athletic body
suited him. It hadn’t been necessary to go through numerous candidates before
finding an appropriate match, raising suspicion. The Shifter sent to lure an
inhabitable being to where Dhoran’s spirit-self waited had done well. He’d
found the perfect vessel on his first attempt.
I will reward him. Allow him to . . . play with these
surface dwellers.
The host’s memories swirled, mingling with Dhoran’s. A short
life so far, but full. Intelligence, pride, and a fierce drive to be of service
propelled an unselfish soul. His knowledge remained for Dhoran to draw on,
providing necessary information on these foreign surroundings.
Dhoran stared down at his new body. Sensations dead for
nearly two decades rushed through him. A strong, regular heartbeat pounded in
his chest, radiating warmth to his extremities. Beads of sweat tickled his
smooth skin. Cool air moved in and out of his lungs. He trembled at the simple
yet intricate workings of life he’d taken for granted, and inhaled deeply. The
familiar scent of damp, musty soil permeated his nostrils. A light sweetness
lingered in his mouth, and he licked full lips, finding more of this spicy
syrupiness. His tongue darted across even teeth blunted with flat surfaces for
grinding. He frowned.
There will be no rip and tear to this bite.
Dhoran raised his hands and glared down at the shape and
size of them. Static popped. Blue currents snapped and wound around his
fingers. His abilities seemed to be intact. But he missed the thick claws and
taut muscles that had rippled under the glossy red-gold scales of his body. He
recalled how his naked skin had glowed and shimmered in the firelight. With an
unsteady reach, Dhoran touched the back of his neck. Long hair clasped in a
metal clip replaced the heavy mane that had grown on his head and along his
spine. He closed his eyes and growled, angered at the loss.
Dhoran’s true form had been exotically handsome to females
from the surface and his underworld. His body had exuded a singular power and
grace, evident in the reverence and fear of those subservient to him. His large
gold-green eyes had missed nothing, and his notched ears had discerned even the
slightest resonance. When he smiled, thin lips slid over sharp teeth.
I would have won the girl over in my previous form.
An icy wind whistled through the warrens.
I must be near an access to the outside world.
Dhoran shivered. He’d forgotten how bitterly frigid the
surface of Arranon could get. He preferred the comfort of his underground
kingdom. He sighed and nodded, the motion stiff and halting. The temporary
sacrifice of warmth would be worth the results.
When Zander Tourani’s daughter joins me, enhancing my power,
I will inspire fear throughout the galaxy. No one will dare attack Arranon
again. With help from the daughter of my only equal and one true enemy, Arranon
will be mine. Forever.
Tourani’s daughter was young, little more than a child. Her
inexperience would make her pliable to Dhoran’s will and unwise to the wiles he
possessed. He would convince her of the importance of forming a . . . merger
with him. For the good of Arranon, she would agree to a union. The recent
invasion of a marauding alien society would add credence to his proposal. He
offered the means to keep her home world safe.
First, he had to find her.
A similar ploy to join forces for the safety of Arranon had
nearly worked on her father.
Or had Tourani’s compliant manner been a ruse within a trap?
Yes. Tourani would consider self-sacrifice a noble end.
Tourani’s deception had triggered his own death, as well as
Dhoran’s.
Foolish. Tourani knew I would return. My spirit remains
strong. My power will never die. Will there still be those eager to do my
bidding awaiting my . . . re-birth?
Black, oily shadow shapes slithered toward him, silent in
their fluid advance. Shifters hissed and bowed their submissiveness. These
creatures would obey him without question.
Dhoran tried his voice. “Camorra nah.” The timbre pleased
him. He held up his hand, the movement uneven. He growled deep in his throat at
the host’s continued resistance. “I will use the predominate language of the
surface.” He had no difficulty controlling speech. The tone coming from him was
deep and soft, appealing to his ear.
The assembled Shifters deepened their bows and trembled at
the sound of their master’s voice.
Good.
“Return to our
underworld. Advise your brothers to find the girl.” Dhoran’s command demanded
fulfillment. “The one who does so will gain my approval and an ample reward.”
He chuckled, the rumbling more growl than mirth.
Without a scuff or scrape of flesh on stone, the Shifters
disappeared, blending into yawning shadows and leaving the faint stench of
putrefying flesh hanging in the chilled air.
Dhoran took a step forward, the action unyielding. He fought
for control of this body, arching his back and rolling his head. His arms
flexed and extended in a convulsive twitch. A low snarl issued from deep in his
chest. “Obey me. You have no choice.” He bit down, slicing the tip of his
tongue. The salty, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His muscles burned
with resistance. He increased the pressure, an internal struggle against the
possessed being’s last push of opposition. “I will command this body. When I
have accomplished my goal, I may return it to you. If you behave.” A final snap
of determination resonated, vibrating through his core.
The fight was over.
Dhoran walked with long easy strides through dim corridors,
warrens chiseled by time, elements, and natural cataclysm in the primeval
granite. His shadow glided from behind to ahead in the spaced lighting centered
at the tunnel’s apex. The click of his boots against stone was music. Icy air
caressed his cheeks. The unfamiliar but recognizable scent of trees, spicy and
sharp, assaulted his senses. His heart rate increased, nerves tingled. He
slowed and stopped.
I am close to the surface. How long has it been since I set
foot in that hostile environment?
Dhoran’s musings took him to the moments before his
premature end. He had steadily rebuilt the forces needed to begin a final
battle and seize what he believed was rightfully his.
Arranon.
Years of careful preparation had his armies in place, ready
to attack the world above. Then Tourani interfered, overthrowing Dhoran and
ruining his strategy for domination.
Dhoran’s breath hitched in with the comprehension of
precious time wasted, passed in a temporary death. Anger flared. Lights above
him popped, extinguishing in a crackle and whiff of scorched wiring. Electric
tendrils snapped and pulsed outward, wrapping Dhoran in a deep- purple glow
that reflected off uneven stone walls. He closed his eyes and pulled in the
throbbing current. The cavern went black, but the quiet buzz of static
remained.
Calm. Breathe. Calm.
The snapping hum quieted, and a preternatural stillness
filled the dark. Dhoran’s eyes opened and he smiled. With planning and
patience, a most gratifying revenge would be his.
He continued to an alcove with tunnels leading off in
several directions. His murk-accustomed eyes detected a faint natural light
seeping in from an opening to the cold, sun-bright realm. The soft glow chased
away thick slices of darkness. The way to proceed from this intersection was
clear to him.
Go to the left.
This was the direction of the possessed one’s work and he
was due there soon. The route led him to a daylight-filled bay. Dhoran
squinted, turned his gaze away from the cursed brightness, and grimaced when
his vision cleared.
Snow. Cold. Wet.
He didn’t know which was worse, blinding white snow or
brilliant sunlight. Warm firelight suited him. The way a fire’s warmth
encircled him and muted flames danced against the dark.
Large flakes swirled in three massive openings behind . . .
Interceptors. Fighters.
This information took a moment to filter through a shared
mind, a side effect of the recent possession that would soon pass.
Dhoran nodded. The knowledge that these sleek, white forms
were warring aircraft, accompanied by a feeling of awe and respect, came from
the buried psyche locked away in a prison of flesh. He stopped and stared at
the cold deadly force before him. His thoughts turned to Tourani’s daughter. He
was anxious to find the girl and begin his conquest of her and Arranon.
From around the closest fighter, a petite female in a heavy
white jacket, pants, and boots emerged. Long, curly red hair surrounded her
face and draped her shoulders. Dhoran tipped his head and studied her.
Odd, she doesn’t wear her hair in the traditional style of
Arranon, clasped at the back of her neck. The color. The curls. This too is
unusual.
Recognition of the female caused a flow of admiration and
gratitude from the host’s mind.
Ah, she is not Arranon. She is from Korin. Erynn Yager. She
is important to Arranon, though. A pilot?
“She’s only a child. And an outsider,” Dhoran scoffed in a
low, menacing voice. He remained unimpressed as he studied her.
How could one so young be this accomplished, this
distinguished? Why is she here?
Turned in profile to Dhoran, Erynn gazed up from the green
glow of the device she held. Ice-blue eyes brightened under long lashes. She
smiled at a dark, powerful young man approaching her from the far side of the
hangar.
More information surged from a collective base of knowledge.
Jaer. An Anbas Warrior. One of Arranon’s elite.
Dhoran’s attention returned to Erynn.
There is something familiar—
He spun toward the exit.
I must find out more about her.
For now, he was due at his duty station.
Being late may bring up difficult questions, and that is no
way to start my first day as a human surface dweller.
About the Author:
When R E Sheahan was a kid, she often imagined 'what if' on how the TV shows and book plots could be rewritten and the whole story could be changed.
Once upon a time, during adulthood, R E was a paramedic/firefighter. Still pondering this ordeal, during down time on her job, she daydreamed and started writing down her ideas.
That was three years ago.
Now R E has two published books and many more in notes waiting to come alive.
R E Sheahan lives in Northern Oregon among the breathtaking Cascade Mountains.
