Thursday, September 8, 2011
Interview of Author Saydi Raen
Latest Book: Sinful Mark
Buy Link: http://www.secretcravingspublishing.com/SaydiRaen.html
Most people who know Saydi would say she’s a devoted hardworking individual who has done a lot in her short 26 years of life. She’s a mother, a writer, a student, a dreamer, a Cosplayer (the art of making and/or dressing up like video game characters anime characters, just about anything. It stands for Costume Play), an anime fan, a chef, a seamstress, a reader, a roleplayer, a video game nut and much, much more. So lazy this one is not, weird yes, lazy no. Her favorite hair color on herself is currently forest green which complements the fact, that as one sweet old lady put it, that she is drenched in freckles. Since she was a little girl the one dream that has always followed her was the role of dreamweaver, in other words a writer, someone who suggests a new world for the reader to be let loose into. For research purposes and of course the love of the written word, she devoured every book that she could get her hands on; she had to fight one dog who literally devoured books for some of them.
Ever since, she was that bright eyed little tomboy who’d rather play barbies with her sister for the story and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with the boys for the same reason. With family and friends to support her, she eventually put words down on paper, dripping with her own flair and enjoying getting to use it in school. Bouncing around between poetry and fiction, she soon tried her hand at journalism and wrote for a local hometown newspaper in a town she affectionately calls Silent Hill, WA. Everyone else just calls it the place where Nirvana came from; well Kurt anyway. The military called her away for several years causing her skills to rust and confidence to fade, but she still wrote as often as she could, if only for herself. Then when she was freed from the bonds of the military, she moved back to Silent Hill, back to the town where her confidence had blossomed. Remembering what a teacher once told her in a yearbook, “Saydi, I will look for you on the shelves of Barnes and Noble.”, she started on a piece that was close to her heart, just for Mr. McKay.
Making a valiant effort to complete the book, life just got in the way and it was shelved again, until the day a hand came out of the sky and handed Saydi an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. A theme she loved and had a story written prior that just needed to be applied to paper; tattoo’s. Then out of the blue the first new characters in years told her they wanted to be put to paper. As soon as she started the new characters' story, she was hooked and hasn’t looked back. Keep an eye out for this one, guys, she might surprise you! ^_^
Q: What’s the first thing you did when you received word you’d sold a book?
A: Danced around my living room for about 20 minutes, then I worried whether the person who bought it would like it.
Q: What part of the book is the hardest for you? Why?
A: The middle usually, because I know what is going to happen and I’ve probably written the scene a thousand times in my head and so I kind of bore myself with it. I get impatient and want it to be done.
Q: Who is your favorite character in your book and why?
A: I love all of them because they are such amazing people. Cho’s whole story needs to be told but everyone of my characters has a reason to be who they are at the time I am writing them and it usually I get sucked into their story. Kaleb and Taddy are some of my favorite new ones but I need to rewrite their piece now that I’m with a different publisher, you know actually flesh it out more. They have a WHOLE lot more than the tiny piece that few have seen. That is the problem I think, I always give people a sneak peak or teaser like Sinful Mark is and then have to go back and write the whole book, I need to get one that.
Q: Do all your heroes and all heroines look the same in your mind as you “head write”?
A: Would they all look the same if you drew them on paper? I’m lucky that I can remember what they all look like. All of them have different faces, voices, features, personality traits… so much so that I have a hard time making my ‘head writing’ fast, it is usually an explosion of sound, people, scenes, smells…then I have to sort it out.
Q: Do you eat comfort food when writing? If so, what food inspires your imagination?
A: Shrimp chips. Craziest things ever but they are delicious and addicting.
Q: What hobby do you enjoy when not writing?
A: I love to take pictures, I make dolly clothes, cosplay, I love to watch anime, go outdoors, play with my zoo (child included). I do a lot.
Tell us where to find you: website(s), publisher’s page(s), blog(s), Facebook page(s), etc. List them all!
As his deft hands danced with the movement of the needle, leaving behind the stain of ink in its wake, it sent little glimmers of calm and excitement in the same that built with each time the needle pierced her flesh.
The needle left her skin briefly to be dipped into the black ink once more and then it returned to satisfy the craving her skin had grown for the feeling. But his other hand, it never left her back only fueling the need for the pain of the needle to remind her of why his hand was there.
The figure on the bench stood, wiping her dagger on the cloth she wore as a cloak. Blood pooled on the ground beneath the bench, reflecting the moonlight, eerily red. She looked down as the light faded from the other’s eyes.
“Go with your instinct,” she muttered, stepping over the body and following the path to the main gardens.
She turned towards the moon, her eyes catching a glint of the silver light that made their striking blue stand out against the pale of her face, peeking from the shadows of her hood as she walked. Her footsteps carried her from the gardens passing what was once a magnificent country house for someone wealthy. Now all that stood was a smoldering shell of a building. Her thoughts were on other things though. Casting a glance to each side, she stepped into a shadow cast by a small camphor tree and disappeared.
She leapt from shadow to shadow exerting such silent speed that she seemed as quick as the wind. A smile tugged at her lips, knowing what was in store for her next. She turned to the left, near a grove of trees, and stopped short in front of a temple set on a hill and surrounded by ancient trees. Using experience that a normal person wouldn’t know, she climbed the stairs very carefully. She smiled, knowing these steps all too well and the dangers they held for the untrained, unlucky traveler. As if to make her point, her eyes caught a recent addition to the collection of those caught by one of the traps. She shuddered at the thought of spears skewering her or any number of other horrors she heard these steps hid.
The temple grounds came into view with only the glints of moonlight off the occasional statue or dewy leaf. Light shone through the rice paper windows, inviting to only the few who would approach this creepy, haunted looking shrine. Just the way she liked things, quiet and away from the world. She walked carefully and deliberately to what seemed to be a wall, and using a deft hand, the wall pulled away into a sliding door. When she closed it behind her, the panel looked the same as the rest of the wall around.
The floor creaked slightly, age and the weight of her moving across made the floor protest under her soft footfalls. She headed for the light peaking from under one of the doors and tapped lightly before sliding the door open. Deep, mocha brown eyes met her, staring at her from next to a small, short, wooden table. The table contained many things including several five-inch, wooden handled needles. In his hands were two inkpots ready, needles in them.
Anything else you’d like to add?
Never forget that as an author we are technically the gods of our own worlds. We create them, the people in them, and then we throw things at them to mess it all up and watch them fix it. Kind of seems cruel, since it is for others' amusement as well as our own, but it usually works out in the end. It makes us seem a little crazy sometimes (you know, that whole "having voices talking to you while your writing" business… happens all the time to me, Trinity won’t shut up about me finishing her piece…but heck, all I’m doing is telling her story…), but as long as you enjoy reading it I can handle a crazy god-like title and be proud.
Posted by Marianne Stephens at 12:01 AM